Own It!

Nothing prepares you for that life-changing event. I’m not talking about the little details that happen every day and are seldom noticed. No, I’m talking about that moment when you can’t ignore it. The instant it happens, it demands your complete and utter attention. A solitary moment that affects you down to your very soul. Me, I was blindsided in the doorway of a restaurant on a random Wednesday night.

As a transgender-person, we aim to get to that moment when we take our first steps out into the world presenting as our true selves. Mine happened on the night of 15 May 2019.

I had already been on my HRT, Hormone Replacement Therapy, for two years. My co-workers were all female, and they had known about me shortly after I started my HRT. I was blessed in the fact that they were all caring and supportive of my transition.

One day, a couple of them were talking about how great it would be for all of us to go out for a girl’s night. Having never been part of one, I was giddy at the thought of doing this. We agreed it was a good idea, and the date was set. And because two of us were married to women, they were invited as well.

Once the height of my excitement wore off, I was hit with one of the most important questions a woman asks herself when an important event is coming up. “What do I wear?”

Up until the night we were to get together, I had never ventured out presenting myself as I truly am. Throughout my HRT, I continued to present male and play the part everyone outside of my work knew me to be.

After casually asking my co-workers, a not-so-casual number of times, what they were planning to wear, I had a plan. With the help of my beloved spouse, we determined I love the dress styles from the 1950s. And after a bit of frantic searching online, we found a reasonably priced dress that would be delivered in a decent amount of time before the girl’s night. Or at least that’s what I thought.

Every day I was getting more anxious about the mere fact that I would be out amongst total strangers going to dinner as if it were something I regularly did. Not to mention doing full makeup for the first time in over a decade. And now it was the Friday before the big night and my dress had not been delivered.

Thankfully, the dress finally arrived Saturday. I rushed it over to a co-worker’s house and she helped me tailor it to fit a bit better. I was amazed that everything was ready to go by Tuesday night.

The next day at work, we were all excited about getting to go out. It was all we talked about during our breaks throughout the day. One of my colleagues lived close to the restaurant, and it was decided that we would all meet up at her house and carpool to dinner. This would also help give me time to change from my male work clothes into my beautiful dress. Because my wife worked a little later than we did, I laid out all the details to ensure we would get there in enough time for me to change and be ready to head out.

The end of the workday came. We all scattered in our separate directions to change and get ready for the outing. My wife got home shortly after me and we frantically ran around the house making sure we had everything we needed.

My beloved wife hates to be late. Sadly, I would be late to my own funeral. We also feed off each other. When she becomes anxious, I become anxious. I was already a wreck before she got home. Add in our frantic running about the house, I am at this point, an emotional tornado. We sprinted from the house with our arms filled, threw it all into the car, and started the drive to meet up with everyone.

We arrived in a whirlwind; I ran into the house with my arms full of clothing, bags, shoes, and God knows what else. I darted into the bedroom my co-worker’s wife said I could use. And I begin my dressing process. The bra goes on, the slip, the dress, the jewelry, the heels. I rushed to the bathroom with make-up and a brush. I get my hair done semi-decently. I finished my foundation application that I had begun in the car during the drive over. I then began on my eyes, but my hands were shaking so terribly, I could not do it.

I almost started to cry when I was saved by one of the ladies bringing me out of the bathroom. She sat me down and another placed a Jack and Coke in my hand. Then those wonderful, amazing, women started helping me like a professional racing pit crew. My hair was adjusted, and my eye makeup was applied. Another Jack and Coke was issued to me, and I drank it down as fast as I downed the first.

I should add that I am not a drinker. I don’t normally drink alcohol. Never cared for the taste of it. So, I’m not joking when I say that I’m a real lightweight when it comes to having adult beverages. Unfortunately, it was revealed during one of our work conversations that if I were to ever drink, I do have a fondness for Jack Daniels. Normally, having two Jack and Cokes like that, I would be a little snookered. That night, I didn’t feel a thing. My guess is that the adrenaline racing through my body never gave the alcohol a chance.

My colleagues finished, and I looked in the mirror. I loved the woman I saw. I felt pretty for the first time in a long while. But my heart was racing like I was in the middle of a marathon.

We all shuffled out and drove to the restaurant. I was worried the entire time. In my head, I quickly deprogrammed myself from the male traits I had adopted throughout my life. Growing up my natural mannerisms appeared too feminine. So, to protect myself, I learned how a guy did things. Now, I was basically trying to deprogram forty-nine years’ worth of maleness within a fifteen-minute car ride. I felt less than confident.

We parked, got out of the car, and walked to the restaurant. I was holding my wife’s hand the entire way. She knew that despite my terror, I was determined to do this for myself. We approached the doorway. Everyone else went inside while my wife and I paused. We took one another step before she stopped me on the doormat.

I turned to look into her eyes. She knew this was something I wanted all my life. She could see the terror in my eyes. She squeezed my hand and told me to take a breath. I closed my eyes and followed her command. The franticness of the week vanished as I let out a breath. I opened my eyes back to hers. She smiled and said, “Now look at this place. Look at your friends.”

I did.

“Own it.,” she said as I looked around the restaurant. She continued, “This is your night. So, own it.” She squeezed my hand again. I looked into her eyes and her smile.

That was it. Her words smacked my core like a hammer to an anvil. The realization that washed over me was simply rejuvenating.

Own it.

Why should I be nervous about how I am seen? This is my happiness. This is where I want to be and what I want to do. I struggled for too long not to own this night and enjoy every single second with my friends. I turned towards our group and walked towards them. I owned it all. We had a wonderful time, and I never wanted it to end.

From that moment on, “Own it.,” has been a life-changing way of thinking. I could feel the heavy cloak of forty-nine years of fear slide off my shoulders. My confidence is strong because I now own it. I own my transition, my life, and who I am as an individual making it in this world.

I am proud of being a Transgender-Woman. I own it. I have a group of truly awesome people who I respect and admire. And they love and support me for who I am. I own it. Even all the hate that is so rampant in this country today, I own that too. If it affects me, it’s mine to own. I also own how I choose to react to that hate. Sure, if I receive anger or hatred, I could respond similarly. Or I could choose to find a way to educate and change that person’s feelings. Opportunities like that don’t always exist. However, if you immediately respond with that same hatred and don’t look for that opportunity, you’ll never find it. We all must own how we decide to be.

I never would have imagined that two little, prosaic words, when linked together and verbalized, at a precise moment, would have such an overwhelming effect.

“Own it” is the best advice I’ve ever received. It has changed me for the better. It’s changed the way I see the world, and more importantly, it’s changed the image I see in the mirror. It’s my summary of the Serenity Prayer, my battle cry, my mantra, my motivation, and my motto. Own it!