The last time I wore a dress, it was for my brother’s college graduation. It was the summer in-between my freshman and sophomore years. I had put on weight and my one pair of dress pants did not fit. I had not worn a dress in five years; not since my father’s funeral. I borrowed an Indian hand-block wrap skirt from my ex-girlfriend.
I had just come out to my mother. She was upset and angry. I wore the skirt to placate her. I could answer “Why do you have to be a lesbian?” better than “Why do you have to dress like a man?” I did not want to ruin Jon’s graduation. The dysphoria was unbearable. I swore I would never make that mistake again. Continue reading