Passing, in our transgender world, is being taken for the gender one feels one is, regardless what messages the, at times contradictory, body may give.
Me - my passing is about 100%. It's quite amazing. Though even when I thought of myself as a woman with a female body people would often take me for a guy, all my life. But now, with a slightly changed voice, a different upper body, the clothes, it's really funny, and very enjoyable.
There I am in Istanbul airport; the post-operative compression garment I have (had) to wear with metal hooks sets off the alarms. A security guy steps forward, runs his metal thing over me, then his hands over my upper body, and has no idea.....
Got into all sorts of conversations with guys which I would not have done before, including one with some Turkish chicken farmers about the attributes/assets of the stewardesses. Not very PC, but one can have fun sometimes.
Coming home from Tbilisi, the ground staff, with my female passport and female boarding card (saying 'Mrs') in their hand each time said 'have a good flight, sir'. (Bit of a frightening thought in terms of airline security, really).
I suspect, though that the young guy in Belgium who helped me to find a nice suit, might have noticed a 'lack' when I tried on the rather tightly-fitting trousers....
Me - my passing is about 100%. It's quite amazing. Though even when I thought of myself as a woman with a female body people would often take me for a guy, all my life. But now, with a slightly changed voice, a different upper body, the clothes, it's really funny, and very enjoyable.
There I am in Istanbul airport; the post-operative compression garment I have (had) to wear with metal hooks sets off the alarms. A security guy steps forward, runs his metal thing over me, then his hands over my upper body, and has no idea.....
Got into all sorts of conversations with guys which I would not have done before, including one with some Turkish chicken farmers about the attributes/assets of the stewardesses. Not very PC, but one can have fun sometimes.
Coming home from Tbilisi, the ground staff, with my female passport and female boarding card (saying 'Mrs') in their hand each time said 'have a good flight, sir'. (Bit of a frightening thought in terms of airline security, really).
I suspect, though that the young guy in Belgium who helped me to find a nice suit, might have noticed a 'lack' when I tried on the rather tightly-fitting trousers....
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