The Seeds That Bear A Bitter Old Queen

[cd332.livejournal.com]

the following is something i wrote down regarding transvestism and aging. i am aware that there are many aging gay men who do not dress and are referred to as bitter old queens. i wonder if the phenomenon of bitter old kings exist in ftm trans*. i'd like to hear thoughts on the subject and on whatever i dashed out below.
cheers,
cd332

i am reading my friend richard's entries and the phrase, "Bitter Old Queen" jumps right out at me from all his other observations. i have often wondered about the circumstances, the journey, and the turns one takes to arrive at this all too familiar state of being to begin with, just as "queen" denotes a particular mind set and attitude, the youthful form of this position, a "princess" makes its own demands in social interaction.

why are there so many bitter old queens? and how does one stay cognizant and vigilant in avoiding the pitfalls of becoming one? i ask myself these questions as an aging transvestite maid. does every exchange need to end with repartee and sarcastic, acerbic wit? i would be quite afraid to turn into someone who thrives on that sort of joy in life. still, i have to believe - from what i have seen- that among even the most bitter of old queens, there's a private self that is loving, sensitive, and caring.

i guess with each mounting disappointment in life, one begins to cherish and insulate one's diminishing sense of optimism and innocence with a hardened shell of protection. what better way to guard against further disappointments than with a mantle? a life of transvestism is a lifelong practice in rejection.

being a single tran*, in my view, is to be acquainted with what the existentialists have taught us as a perpetual, lifelong loneliness. there is a continuous dialogue with the mirror which most, if not all, tv's are aware of. it may be okay to weather out the lack of acceptance from peers when the reflection still speaks sweetly. what happens when that which looks back at you is no longer pleasing enough to drown out the voices of dissent?

the day when i arrive at a fork in the road, and i am called to choose between to road offered by the protective haven of bitterness and the other, of reckless inspiration and hope, i may very well opt for the latter. transvestism, for me, is a search for a new language, a new expression. the route of bitterness is a beaten path. a third childhood within a second childhood is a most original invention.


there is a sense of disintegration that begins the day the reflections in the mirror refuse to cooperate.

we can accept this sense of disintegration.

or we can choose a sense of discovery.