Why do so many of us dislike being photographed? Why do we feel uncomfortable before a camera? Quite simply, we fear the resulting image will shatter our self-image and document the probability that the rest of the world looks at us with the same critical eye. To make matters worse, we are inclined to believe a widely accepted myth: "The camera doesn't lie."

Nonsense.

Think about it. A photograph captures an image in 1/1000 to 1/60 of a second. This is like trying to describe a beach by preserving a grain of sand. It is not surprising that our encounters with the camera are more likely to capture our anxiety than our soul. It is no accident that a favorite photograph (despite technical and artistic flaws) is often a "snapshot" taken candidly by a friend. Freed of the inhibiting intimidation of a stranger with a camera, we are serendipitously caught in the act of being ourselves.

Most crossdressers I have known avidly engage in self-portraiture. Far from being onanistic, they are hopefully pursuing confirmation that their visual persona, so carefully developed, satisfies the standards of femininity they set for themselves. Even better if this image should appeal to the rest of society.

In portraiture, we are not afforded the wild abandon of candidness, but are forced to react to a stranger and his camera. No wonder crossdressers fear the worst. It is up to the photographer to rise to the occasion, and free us from our natural anxieties, to be ourselves, so that the camera does not lie, but rather captures us as others see us, usually with more acceptance than we allow ourselves.

As an icebreaker, to win the confidence of otherwise anxious and inhibited subjects, I often proudly share photos I have taken of crossdressers. Amazed that these images are indistinguishable from "real" women, they become more at ease, optimistic that I have the ability to flatter their own "peculiarities". All the while I am merely freeing them to be themselves before me, a stranger on the other side of the camera.