My sister called me a week ago (May 2024) to say she’d read my book. She expressed appreciation for how hard this revelation must have been, but then focused on the feelings of isolation that came through in my writing.
In July 2020, when Marcie came out, everyone was isolated to one degree or another due to the Covid coronavirus. My isolation though was different1. Not only was I experiencing the impact of lock down, but I couldn’t discuss this major disruption in my life with others.
I was blessed in that Marcie came out to me almost as soon as she realized her desire to explore presenting as a woman. I didn’t need to deal, then or later, with the knowledge she had kept this important part of herself hidden from me. She admitted to trying on one of my dresses, but only once. She knew then she had to tell me. For reasons I explain in “Inside My Husband’s Closet”, I knew she was telling the truth.
As with most, if not all, folks who are LGBTQ+, she initially didn’t wish to share this information with others, only with me. In our current culture this is referenced as being “in the closet”, hiding your sexuality or gender identity from others2. This was an appropriate decision for her, due to the many challenges and personal risks of informing others of her desire to explore her gender identity. See Sharma2 for greater detail.
However, she also asked me not to share this information with others. While I understood the reasons for her request, this was a decision into which I had little input. Thus I was not only physically isolated from my friends and colleagues due to Covid, I had to monitor my conversations as well. As described many times by the contributors to Virginia Erhardt’s book “Head Over Heels”3, I now was also “living in my husband’s4 closet”.
Yet, understanding the reason for this made the decision no less difficult to live with. Watching Marcie emerge from her cocoon was often entertaining (e. g. watching her learn to walk in heels) and I wanted to share with friends. At times I just needed a shoulder to lean on when I was trying to fathom what all of this meant for me, for us.
I’m inquisitive by nature and there were few places I, as a cisgender wife, could look for information specific to me. What could I expect from her? Did all cross dressers5 eventually transition? This lack of resources left me frustrated, alone with my questions.
Because of professional confidentiality, Marcie didn’t object to me talking with a counselor. Having the opportunity to tell my story to someone else mitigated my intermittent uneasiness. Unfortunately the counselor available through my work insurance had little knowledge of transgender folks and even less of what a wife such as me needed in the way of support. Thus my sense of isolation was not particularly relieved, but I was comforted knowing if things got worse I had somewhere to turn.
Most helpful in relieving the sense of isolation was getting out of the house, together. Many trans women prefer to go out by themselves. This wouldn’t have worked for me. Being ‘forced’ to stay at home alone would have made things worse. As it was, the first time she did venture out alone I spent most of the time worrying about her, how she was, when would she come home. Going out with her may have been stressful, but we were able to talk about it later and even find humor in the experience. We were learning from each other how to be a same-sex couple.
We even took a vacation to Cancun. I know; it was during Covid. But the trip had been planned for a long time. We knew how to protect ourselves in public and the resort was naturally socially distanced. I actually felt safer there than at our local grocery store at home.
This change of scenery was helpful in easing my sense of confinement. I had people I could talk to without caring what they thought about Marcie. Well, I did care somewhat, but I wasn’t constantly on the alert thinking someone I knew was going to come around the corner and recognize us.
Marcie’s concerns about telling others started to ease after about a year. I though was hesitant at first. While I wanted to talk with others, I didn’t know if this would make it worse. Open discussion of transgender topics was just beginning to emerge. I was afraid of moving from not having anyone to help me understand my new situation to being the one helping others to understand. So I waited.
A few months later an opportunity came for me to come out to a close friend. She understood. She’d had LGBTQ friends in college. I didn’t have to explain. Her and Marcie bonded almost immediately. Just this one friend eased the isolation. I now had someone with whom I could share both the good and the bad.
Slowly I began to share with others, who were all long term friends who lived at great distances. I found that even talking to them on the phone helped. Two of the three knew someone in the LGBTQ community reducing my need to discuss Marcie in detail.
Thus in the middle of our second year on this journey I felt much less secluded. Lock down was still in place, but with fewer restrictions. In this second year we also attended Fan Fair, a week in Provincetown, MA where we could meet and socialize with other trans folk and especially their cisgender partners. I could share my experiences and learn from theirs.
Once we moved to the southeast and Marcie came out socially (See Blogs 3 and 4 on social transitioning) our social circle contracted due to location, but not because of her being trans. Surprising to me, we have felt little to no social push back here because of her gender identity. The political realities need to be dealt with, but they are not isolating as we are together in that struggle with many others.
Memories of isolation do remain. I was indeed in her closet, until she began to adapt to her new presentation of self. My timeline followed hers. A sense of having “left the closet” came about when I no longer felt the need to keep her secret, when I was free to acknowledge I was married to a woman named Marcie.
My next post will be in approximately three weeks. The planned topic is on always being in a state of waiting for something else to happen.
[1] As well as that of many others whose spouses came out during Covid.
[2] Sharma, S. (2023). ‘Living in the Closet’: What it really means for LGBTQIA+ Mental Health, https://www.calmsage.com/what-does-it-mean-to-live-in-the-closet/.
[3] Erhardt, V. (2007). Head Over Heels: Wives Who Stay with Cross-Dressers and Transsexuals, Haworth Press, Binghamton, NY.
[4] I use the term ‘husband’ not as sign of my non-acceptance of her but to reference the fact my husband (now my wife) considered herself to still be male, and thus my husband. She maintained this masculine identity, during her first year out, even while often presenting as a woman.
[5] During most of her first year out Marcie considered herself a cross dresser. It wasn’t until later she recognized her gender identity, as well as her wish to present as a woman, was morphing. In most cases, even in the first year, I reference her as ‘trans’ to avoid the complexity of explaining her change in terminology at some point in time.
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