Due to my own personal and educational backgrounds, as well as my long-time, self-propelled interests in people whom I feel are completely misunderstood by the vast majority of the narrow-minded, self-absorbed, and judgmental masses of society, who prefer to allow others to do their thinking for them, I feel in my liberality and open-mindedness that I am somewhat of an activist for those who are misunderstood. That attitude and my great empathy are two of the reasons I so enjoy being an outlet -free of judgment, ridicule, and censure; full of acceptance, understanding, and support. With me, the world of fantasies is wide open for exploration, investigation, and development. So, crossdressers, come on in!
This little tirade leads me to a discussion on my adoration and love of crossdressers. Oh! What a diverse and colorful population crossdressers are. So many people make snap, stereotypical, broad judgments – almost all of which are totally off the mark. Yes. Crossdressers do share one thing in common: All were born with male genitalia and have a desire to dress in clothing designated as female attire. However, their individual differences far exceed their similarities. (It’s like saying all people who have naturally blonde hair and enjoy black coffee are all the same.)
I must also add that, to many of those who enjoy crossdressing, it is quite the serious engagement – and most often a lifelong passion. I am frequently enthralled with the history, development, and idiosyncrasies of each individual CD, hearing about everything from the time they initially became fascinated with (often their mother’s or sister’s) panties, pantyhose, and/or stockings… to their first dressing experiences… to their adolescent CD trials and tribulations… to their dressing from young adulthood forward…
Almost every crossdresser I have ever met has a most unique story, which describes so many mixed emotions and secret behaviors surrounding this phenomenon that evolved into an integral part of who they are today. Talk about a rollercoaster ride of excitement and angst, elation and sadness, expression and suppression, agony and ecstasy. The allure and experience of developing that part of one’s self that burns with a longing to dress -what should be an enjoyable and self-liberating act- is all too often corrupted by the nagging evils of guilt, shame, embarrassment and isolation, perpetuated by a society of puritanical, self-righteous, hypocritical, and judgmental busybodies. The only shame that should be involved here is the *finger wagging* shame on those people who wish to guilt and censure someone for something so inherently harmless and self-fulfilling.
Well, I -for one- thumb my nose at such behavior! In my world, the proverbial red carpet is always rolled out for crossdressers, and I welcome them all with open arms and a hearty welcome. I stand armed with empathy, acceptance, understanding, and support – and I’m not afraid to use them! In fact, I insist on it.
As far as I am concerned in my corner of the world, I am the Queen, my kingdom is Diversity, and my crossdressers make the most fabulous -and well-dressed!- handmaidens and court, where dressing to express oneself is not only encouraged, it is expected!
