Actress decomposes offstage

Oh let my character dissolve, away from public performance.

Oh let my opinions dissolve into a chaos of contradictions.

Now that I am naked, why have I opened this window?

Come chase me through the maze of constructed identities.

Dishy Debbie's dinner dialogue

I am wearing a mid-length, slim black dress, tights and black high-heels.

I am two inches tall.

I am standing in my dinner.

I am clambering through sensual mashed potatoes, wading through soothing warm gravy, rolling cherry tomatoes purposefully along my plate, posing as the tragic romantic as wisps of spinach wrap themselves around me.

'Hey there, Deborah, how are you doing down there?'

'I am buffeted by emotions, rich and unpredictable as ever. Life is always a storm, always an adventure.'

'Is it?'

'Yes, down here, in the realm of authentic momentary feelings it always is. You can know little of this, my dear. The best you can do is think up stupid metaphors and eat supper.'

Deeper femme

I seem to be feminising at a rate of knots.

I am reorientating my perspective on myself from a base of identity and (tentative) community, as opposed to proud individualism.

There are three levels of  identification:

1) Crossdreamer. I having thrived on identifying as such  for nearly a year now.

2) Trans. (Whether crossdreamers are by definition transgender is a moot point I don't want to argue here.) What I mean here is possessing a sense of inner femininity which is not just a sexual stimulation at the notion of being female.

3) Female. I baulk at this. I don't honestly presume to have an affinity with those whose characters have been so influenced by actually having women's bodies and having been brought up as female. Yet if 2) is vaid, it does imply some 3) within me. Lovely!

Paradoxically, it is in the realm of the sexual that I feel most like 'a natural woman' (incidental, ironic Judith Butler reference here - please ignore if you don't know what I'm talking about). I am becoming increasingly aware that I have always responded sexually in an instinctively feminine way, which was not consciously adopted behaviour to produce the crossdreaming thrill of acting feminine.

Here I must mention my lovely new friend Heather. I think Heather is a brilliant writer. She is full of wise thoughts, and is also a mistress of feminine erotica. She has written stories - this one in particular - which present a very female sexuality, very much from the inside; relishing the scenario as a woman would, with the thrill of crossdreaming transgression only implicit in the background, perhaps disposable altogether. My enjoyment of her articulation of female sexuality has made me appreciate that I share the sensibility. Her heat (get it?) is mine. The stories include explicit sex, but are sensual and gentle in nature, not hardcore in character. They appeal to me more than stories of transformation or crossdressing, in which gender transgression is foregrounded.

I hear the muffled sound of alarm bells, being rung by my natural sense of caution. But oh, I'm just loving it, this embracing of inner femininity; and, in this tough, frustrating life, feeling really good is quite a rare and precious feeling that should be valued and cherished. And the feeling is deep and poignant too. Poignant especially when I re-view my past from the perspective of a trans inner identity. I'm planning a Mirror Sister post about this, so do watch that space.

Love to you all, sisters,
Debbie x x x  

Debbie says 'yes'

At Crossdream Life forum earlier today I described myself as androgynous.

Why do I feel that that was a boring description? Why do I feel a little impatience with it? Why 'I suppose so (sigh)'?

Because right now it's exciting, sexy and powerful to be female, female, female. I'm fed up with the qualifications:' it's not the whole of me', 'I'm not saying this...', 'I'm not saying that...'.

This is Deborah's descent. Not a static position, a descent into increasing femininity, as I access more fully the female deep within my psyche.

There is a danger that I am getting carried away...

Yet I am proud and pleased to be happily acknowledging something that was lurking uneasily within me for so long. Somewhat actually thoroughly soft and sweet and good-natured, although also strong.

This experience is sexy but it's also a deep and important reorientation of my identity.

It's so much more interesting than watching television.

Just say yes, girl, just say YES!

Sliding into sisterhood

Am I a girl?

Seriously?

I have never claimed that my autogynephilia definitely indicated any femininity within me beyond itself. Nor, though, have I insisted that I am a regular masculine man.

Until recently I have kept my antipathy to masculine values away from my crossdreaming sexuality, which was thoroughly segregated from the rest of my inner self.

Does integration of these indicate a feminine centre?

A man with a feminine centre is not like a woman. A woman has been brought up as female: this greatly influences how she is, regardless of centre. I have been brought up as male: this has greatly influenced how I am. A large part of me is the product of this influence. I do not disown or dislike this part.

Is there such a thing as a feminine centre? (I know what postmodern gender theorists think about this - hi, wxhluyp, darling - how are you?) Perhaps there isn't, but perhaps there is? Maybe human life is more thoroughly gendered than I have appreciated - like the French language, where every word is given a gender. So my sensitivity does derive from my femininity?

It's possible.

The case against would claim that I am sliding into a dangerous, sex-driven fantasy. Ooh, that sounds quite exciting, doesn't it?

Or perhaps my descent is reaching a firm base of identity which explains much and connects me with others who have grown from such a base. That sounds nice, and it might be true.

I almost didn't write today, but I did

As an 'inner woman' I am stronger and more instinctive than I might seem. And I seem to feed on creative writing.

It's almost as if Mirror Brother is merely my channel. A channel who sometimes doesn't feel like working. That's fair enough, bro - we understand each other well.

Just now I had an image of myself in a wind tunnel, resisting being blown away by clinging tightly to a post.

I didn't blow away.

Expressing myself as Deborah indicates an optimism , a sense of self-expression, indeed of life, as worthwhile. Mirror Brother often does not accord with this sense.

Being Deborah is also connected to masturbation. Of course I do not deny the validity and importance of sexuality, nor the validity and importance of my particular crossdreaming sexuality. Yet masturbation is an undignified activity, stimulated by undignified thoughts. This is true for most people (everybody?), not just crossdreamers. Nevertheless, the role of Mirror Brother's sexual stimulation in Deborah's existence can provide a discouraging context for Deborah's writing/existence. One part of this self-doubt is 'why not go for the sexual stimulation more overtly, be explicitly erotic? Why be so inhibited, presenting Deborah as as a reflective intellectual?'

Writing as Deborah also has a context of the internet. The internet offers a broad life now, but a lesser-dimensional one. There is also something compulsive (and hence not really satisfying) about it.

But fuck all that. I write because I am Deborah. I write therefore I am. I am therefore I write.

And I (Mirror Bother/Mirror Sister combined) always feels better for having created a fresh post.

Many thanks for reading me. My love to you all.

D x x

Tears

Here I am again, saying 'hello'. Saying 'Thank you for reading. I'm flattered by your interest. If you really like reading me expressing myself, the least I can do in return is to give you a bit more of it.' x x

Here I am again, in front of my dauntingly blank canvas, with a freedom of expression that is somewhat intimidating, almost overwhelming.

I refuse to confine myself to a role that narrows this existential freedom - e.g. commentator on trans issues.

Writing is an assertion of active being. Of being alive, and - as Deborah - of being a crossdreamer, and of being an inner female.

The depths of my psyche are all pink and fluffy!

I could do some masculine assertion - 'this is my opinion! this is what I think!' - but I don't want to. I don't have to have an opinion to speak to you, do I, friends?

In fact right now I feel a little bit like shedding a few tears.

No particular reason. I'm just a sensitive person in a harsh world, that's all ('all'!). So naturally I feel like shedding a few tears every so often.  Maybe you do too?

Love and kisses from Deborah x x x