This will most likely be my last blog post here. I started it in January 2012, and I suspect my brains have said all they need to (at least on the subject of “adventures in crossdressing”).
This year also marks about 10 years of Twist going out in public. I first came out to my writing group, where one of my friends suggested “Twisted Sister” as a pseudonym, after the 80’s band. Somewhere along the way, this mutated into “Miss Twist”.
I came across the advice from Dita von Teese on finding our style and developing confidence:
You can be a juicy, ripe peach and there’s still going to be someone who doesn’t like peaches, so you can either submit to someone’s criticism of you, or you can get on with the business of being your own amazing self who attracts other like-minded people that appreciate you.
Through Twist, I made a ton of friends I’d never have met otherwise. But cross-dressing was never a deep part of who I am; compared to some of my friends, I’m just a gender tourist – they’re proper ex-pats. For me, it’s cosmetic; for others it’s part of a process of figuring out their real gender identity, and they face a struggle for acceptance:
The trans woman in the public restroom is not saying, “I’m here to invade your space!” – she’s saying, “please take me in, I have no other place to go.” We’re not conquerors or invaders, we’re refugees.
The past couple of years I’ve noticed my wardrobe’s not had any new additions, and everything’s looking a bit… tired. The wig that’s been about half of what makes Twist ‘Twist’ was starting to fall apart. I had a choice: get a new wig, or keep it going?
A different wig somehow wouldn’t feel like Twist any more. I mean, I look pretty much the same in every photo that’s taken – and I kinda feel like Twist should look like that forever. (I can’t imagine an elderly Twist.)
I’ll keep going out as Twist – meeting up with friends – for as long as I can. Last year in Edinburgh I went on my local march against Donald Trump who was visiting Scotland at the time (“I’m here to chew gum and signal my virtue – and I’m all out of gum!”). I learnt not to march in heels, by the way…
Otherwise, I don’t feel that urge, that pressure to go out in girly mode. It’s quite a relaxed state of mind.
Twist always has been and will always be a part of me – don’t think you’ve seen the last of her!
Until next time (whenever that may be)…