Janey's Story:
Many ask about my motivations and whether I would be "trans" if it didn't grow hair. I am working on an article for publication that is entirely true so I am going to put it up as it is being composed:
Nightmare in Frederick, or the Game is Far from Won, my transgender brothers and sisters and others....
By Janey Doe:
I am going to go slowly lest this turn into a turgid, breathless account that seems too awful and improbable to believe. This is the Free State of Maryland after all and I used to be so proud to be a resident. It was May of 2015, a scant few weeks before the world at large learned about the remarkable Cait Jenner. It was mid-morning and I was out of the shower and in the process of estrogen placement which was a DIY method of initializing a transgender transformation from male to female or as we all call it, becoming an MtF. I had discovered that menopausal creams containing all three of the main metabolites of estrogen, Estriol or E1, Estradiol or E2 and with both blended 80/20 in a ration of Estriol to Estradiol. Estriol is far weaker in its effects than is estradiol. Estradiol is generally what MtF's are referring to when we say estrogen. There's a third form intermediate in strength named Estrone but it's far less relevant for MtF's than is estradiol or the Spirit of the Goddess as I refer to it in my more spiritual Wiccan religious system.
This term MtF is confusing because some among the heteronormative as I non-disparagingly call them, use estrogen for personal purposes that may or may not be associated with transitioning as a male to female. Goddess bless all the FtM's out there as well or Female to Male individuals who are essentially doing the same but in the other direction. Some times MtF's essentially meet in the middle and become androgynous or non-binary or gender fluid or gender queer which all mean about the same thing, but queer, unlike "tranny" is not yet a word, that I have "taken" back for my own purposes. So when I say "tranny", it's a term ultimately of praise for me, and self-acceptance, and a light-hearted way of acknowleding my allegiance even if some dislike my calling myself an XY-male and I agree that that is imprecise as well but so is gender.
My feeling is that most heteronormatives are with us, the gender imprecise, and younger folks might not even see non-binary folks as being much different than "hippie" types as they often use HRT in the quest to achieve chimerical forms in terms of mixing female and male attributes in accordance with both gender and body dysphoria. Maybe one thing I also should add is the term "transfeminine" which seems to roughly mean male to female as well but perhaps more so in terms of look and attitude but someone might quickly correct me as some of my folks are wont to do. Me? I don't sweat pronouns and I tend to disparage the "pronoun police" and no, I do not have any "dead" name, thank you very much. Print both of my names in my obituary and I promise, I am proud to be both male and female in aspect and outlook.
Because until recently it was very, very difficult to acquire MtF hormones, many of us begin as Diy'er's, meaning we order different meds off the internet without RX to help us transform. We have some but not much control over external results, if you will, without surgery and many of us fight to squeeze that last little bit of femininity in hair, face and figure. MtF Diy'ing is completely legal pretty much everywhere unlike FtM Diy'ing which may constitute a serious federal crime if testosterone is possessed without a prescription.
I started Diy'ing roughly eight years ago and it's been a remarkable ride and I have had what we often referred to as a "Second Puberty" now lasting about eight years similar to ages 12 to 20 among cis-females. We all have different goals from HRT but one issue is that once one's body or head or limbs change in size or hair loss commences, this can created extreme body dysphoria so our community tries to pitch in and counsel each other and since spring of last year during Covid with all of the isolation, I began helping on different online fora, often for hours and hours a day as I have a good memory and am a speedy typist.
I am known on the two most trafficked reddit sites related to MtF HRT and also on a huge English-language site related to stopping hair loss and if possible, regrowing hair as many MtF's find that HRT substantially improves hair and it might result in substantial improvement even for people with essentially completely uncovered scalp, i.e., cueball status as I refer to my former self. Now my hair is essentially completely regrown. This give me status and many people both male and female contact me for hair advice and both online and via direct message, I help them all, people from all over the world including youths who cannot obtain puberty blockers. I am currently age of 56 and many folks tell me that I have had an amazing transformation especially at a relatively advanced age. My mirrors agree and as one of my quirks, I give all praise to Goddess above.
Anyway, as I applied Biestro cream to many different areas of my body, the front door in the adjoining room essentially slammed open and a handful of people walked in rapidly and with authority as I stood there naked, desperately seeking cover. My only choices were the Washington Post (six years since I have gotten the physical version which I adore) or an afghan. I opted for the afghan as the six people embraced arms in a chain holding me within them while singing and touching me. This is known commonly as assault or "offensive touching" and it would soon devolve into "false imprisonment" which means not being able to leave an edifice or area or even a car, when the person or people detaining do so without legal right. Basically you can only "imprison" felons legally but it's rarely a wise decision.
This is known as a "forced intervention" and in Maryland, they are illegal for everyone if falsely imprisoned and specifically when used to coerce people under 18 to undergo "gender realignment" or basically attempting "to heal" people exhibiting gender dysphoria back to heteronormative, if you will. I was close to 50 and a lawyer and they weren't exactly trying to convert me back but it was close enough.
One of them was my pastor, a behemoth of a man and I was able to go beneath his arms as I fled to my bedroom shaken to my core. My life would never be the same and I knew it immediately. I showered and got dressed and locked myself in my bedroom. I couldn't leave because they were blocking the doors and they had also "stolen" my car and moved it elsewhere. Then a knock on the door came through and it was a "wellness" check by the local police. Pretty scummy, I thought in terms of equating my medical marijuana use with agents of suicide. Goodness, if interventions can induce suicide how can people hold them without a therapist or even a psychiatrist monitoring? The answer is that they never should be held if the person objects but legally since my ex-wife brought them in, the criminal or tortious civil element was far less clear. This intervention was tragically out of sorts and it ended up destroying both my immediate familal relationships and most of my extended family relationships as well. Harrowing describes my experience and I have had PTSD, often rampant PTSD for the six-plus years since.
The horrible thing is that such "intervenors" can be incredibly defiant about their actions and either their rights or duties "to save" family members but this was one case where nobody ever claimed that they would do it again, although my pastor's statements came very close to that. This intervention included one "runner" who was from an online "intervention company". She had no training at all and as I soon discovered, was only paid, like a bounty hunter, when she delivered a person to any of the numerous treatment centers popping up everywhere since ObamaCare made psychiatric treatment essentially available to all, insurance or not. Many such centers are run almost like mills with limited therapy outside addiction relief and it can be the case that a person might not be able to leave without a psychologist's or psychiatrist's approval. In one state, something called the Baker Act was infamous and I noticed that many patients were terrified of being "Baker Act'ed" meaning sent to a center where you had to be held or could be held up to four days without any hearing in a court of law.
The police then strongly suggested that I at least go downstairs and listen to the group of mostly family members including my ex-wife, mother, father, step-mother, pastor and the seemingly vacant "runner". I don't blame them for anything as they were caught in the middle and theoretically they could have fined me $100 for my marijuana use but by this time, arrests were rare but still possible so downward I despondently trugged behind the two officers, I think it was. There's a police report but it's far too painful for me to revisit.
Out of respect, I shall further refer to the ringer as the coordinator which actually makes her seem even worse. She began immediately babbling and asking me "why I didn't work?" Well, I was a stay at home parent and part-time lawyer with two sets of twins to monitor so I just ignored her question. It immediately became clear to everyone that we were on our own since this woman was essentially vacant and vapid in terms of possessing any people coordination skills and this is crucial if not critical to having any intervention being even somewhat successful.
Speaking only for myself, in my case, I also had aspects of dual personality syndrome, not disorder please since I enjoy this aspect and the "illeism" that surrounds it. That means I often refer to my male ego with my born name and to my female ego, who is currently in control for the most part, as Jane or Janey since Janey seems more in accordance with this personality's personality. Legally, Jane is the name that I changed it to via court order. My male personality can still use the born name under the common law of Maryland and actually this is legal for transgender folks too but it wouldn't be on one's identification, along with my new gender designation of female.
I am no savant but I also have essentially your classic absent-minded genius sort of personality accompanied by ADHD that makes me a wonderful generalist but also makes it very hard for me to fit into traditional work modes. Child rearing was perfect for me and was by far my best way to make a family contribution but it turned out that the intervention was essentially about my family being disappointed that I was not earning a large salary like my ex-wife. I could have gone through the tax benefits and the ADHD but since everyone appeared to be talking loudly if not screaming and some of us crying, this was neither a conducive time nor place for this.
So as not to unduly extend this rendition of the hapless human condition in terms of providing negligent "help" which can scar people forever or put them into a downward spiral as would soon happen to me but to be honest I had been spiraling to the bottom for a couple of years. Lack of sleep, disappointment, the aging process and yes, feeling that I should have been earning commensurate with my degrees and intelligence levels had largely destroyed all of my self-esteem. I was a follower of precepts related to pacificism and ego-elimination and ego elimination can be quite dangerous. I won't diagnose others but one hero of mine was Brian Wilson and his essentially solo album Pet Sounds. He was said to have experienced rapid ego dissolution that made it difficult to function.
And so was I. Once you ego goes and in my case something similar to male menopause and what seemed an immediate loss of my looks as I struggled with both crippling dermatitis on face and scalp and incipient baldness. There's only one cure for male pattern baldness and it is estradiol. That's it. In the history of the world only estrogen, along with perhaps castration, can halt and reverse male pattern hair loss and I adored my hair and even what was left of it. Hence, my awkward initial steps in using menopausal creams on face, scalp and then other areas. I was both fascinated to see what might happen and fully cognizant that "I was ready to jump ship" as I call it, from being chemically male to being chemically female. This means with typical adult female levels of estradiol, testosterone and its stronger variant, DHT which is the most hated of all hormones, universally. It does very little except to cause chaos in life after it serves two purposes, differentiation of sexes after conception and then initiation of secondary hair growth meaning beard, underarm, legs and pubis in terms of location.
What many teen boys discover far too early is that excessive vellus or body hair growth and beard growth are correlated highly with loss of scalp hair and this can happen as early as 13 according to some who post on DHT boards. One acquantance went by the handle of Balding since 15 and while MtF HrT can do wonders for hair for XY's, hair is very difficult to get to grow again once lost.
Being young helps but not always and this is why puberty blockers are so controversial because once certain things happen, that can make "passing" as a female difficult if not impossible. I don't mean to get into a debate about passing equalling being more female because it's simply not true but not being able to pass can be dangerous for MtF's and can lead to being hassled, ridiculed or even sexually assaulted. At 5'6" and ahem, 147 pounds, I make an easy target now and there are men who search out MtF's specifically and they often prefer for us not to pass bizarrely enough, especially since passing makes us invisible to them unless we want to be visible. This is very important safety-wise and all MtF's are aware of this. Urinating in the men's bathroom late at night at a rest stop can be dangerous if not well lit or attended.
As we proceeded with my intervention, things broke down into chaos. To my Southern parents, marijuana use might have just as well meant that I was leaving needles strewn about the house and it was pointless to debate with them especially since my step-mother proceeded to tell me that unless I left the house immediately for "treatment" that I was "out of the family" and cut out of "their" will. This was intense pressure followed by a threat to get an order against me.
For what, I thought. The police had been in the other room the whole time. Plus, I don't fly unless I have to go across ocean and I won't go through the reasons why trains are a better choice for many if not all but I was in no conditon to fly as my family had essentially "broken" me, once and for all. "Be careful, I warned them, you might not like what comes out of me if you break me" and yet, they persisted. Could I actually divulge my growing obsession with estrogen and being transgender? Did they really want to know?
My ex-wife wrote and then read a beautiful letter of love to encourage me, complete with her crying and getting low on her knees to beg and cajole me. I still have it and it is available upon request as the saying goes. I adored this woman with all of my being but since I had had a free fall in ego, I had been actively promoting for her to leave me and find "someone" else. She was my confidant, friend and only means of support so I was clearly not thinking clearly or had actually progressed to the breaking point of declining self-esteem. I told her that I had been called to be a "pariah", the lowest form of Indian caste and I informed her that the world needs some people to be "losers" and apparently that was going to be me. This had been some months back and we embraced and she promised me "to see to it that I not die alone in a ditch, far from my beloved children". Irony abounds as we shall soon see.
I noticed that my father kept looking at his watch and my step-mother seemed to be in an urgent hearing for me to either go or stay. I soon learned that they had an appointment with a lawyer to seek an order to remove me from my own home, the one that I picked out and paid for in cash and had remodeled for 15 years lovingly. I never said I wouldn't go and then my step-mother essentially ordered the police officer to have me arrested for marijuana use. He told her no, that they had taken my one tiny plant as was standard at that time since the medical marijuana bill had been passed in 2014. Before that, usage for medical use was a fine of $100 with the burden on the user to show that it was for pain. I had broken six ribs six months earlier and that's a pain difficult to bear without some meds and I don't use opiates except short-term as this appears increasingly to be unsafe. Marijuana saved me. I can't deny that it also soothed me and also made me much more open about my extra personality which literally appeared to be fighting tooth and nail with my male self, to get out and to be acknowledged by my ex-wife but Janey was far from circumspect at this point and things were strange.
None of this involved the children; it was compartimentalized and essentially a struggle to let my wife know about Janey but I just couldn't bear the humiliation of admitting that I wanted to be softer and voluptuous and renewed spiritually and physically and only estradiol could do that for me and boy, it has.
Estradiol saved my life, my focus, provided meaning and goals and targets to set and reach in terms of being the best "Jane" possible, a male to female version of a trophy wife, at least so I could get back into the ballpark of being as adorable as my ex-wife who literally appears to de-age year by year, was.
I would later spend two miserable years, trying to be "male" for my wife and children, largely alone and isolated by the family outbreak into intervention factions, and my anger with my father for unleashing all of this. Yes, it was done and controlled by my ex-wife but my father promised me that "just do this, what you wife asks and I promise everything will turn out okay" Don't worry about the children or money or anything else. Just get well". Famous last words for me as I proceeded a week later to take his "advice" if not threat but clearly under duress, PTSD and the influence of strong psychological medications indicated to prevent me from devolving into suicide.