Hannah McKnight: Awakening

Sometimes a life changing perspective can come from the most unexpected and the most mundane places.

I was looking for a nice notebook for work and like the basic bitch I am, I was in the stationary section at Target. There were a variety of options to choose from and many of them were splattered with cliched statements like “You Got This!” and other encouraging maxims.

One of them caught my eye as the cover’s inspirational phrase was more than just a couple of words. It started with something similar to a person does not find themselves, but a person creates themselves.

Creation isn’t easy. It’s messy, it’s exhausting, it’s frustrating, it takes too long. To quote a another cliche, we are all works in progress. I think this is especially true for girls like us. Sometimes I catch my reflection and I take it all in. I am wearing a wig that was lovingly brushed the day before, my lipstick accentuating a perfect cupid’s box, false eyelashes that could stab someone if they stood too close to me, a corset that gives me a shape I only dreamed of, a dress I never thought I would be brave enough to wear, and stiletto heels that could dance across ice.

It takes about two to three hours for me to present en femme. This includes shaving, makeup, and clothes. But it took a lifetime to present en femme at all.

Please understand that I was born this way. I think we were all born this way. I was, and I am, a different gender than what the doctor said I was on that November evening. Or rather, I am not ONLY that gender. To be clear, I identify as transgender, but I don’t feel that transitioning is right for me. I don’t feel that living full-time is right for me. If I want to get specific, I identify as bi-gender. I present as either masc or femme.

I knew there was something about me when I was very young. I knew that most boys probably didn’t try on their mom’s high heels. I knew that most boys probably didn’t look longingly at the beautiful lingerie the mannequins at the department store were wearing. This was the genesis. This is when I began creating myself. Like a fire, it started with a spark, a spark of inspiration.

And I’m not finished with my personal creation. I doubt I ever will be. I hope I’m never finished.

When I begin my transformation, as I call it, I start with lingerie. And it’s not necessarily va-va-va voom lingerie (although I have plenty of that kind of lingerie), it’s a pocket bra for my breast forms, a gaff for tucking, thigh high stockings (they tend to hold my Jolie Thigh Pads better than pantyhose) and a corset to keep everything else in place.

After that, it’s heels, a dress, makeup, and hair. By now I’ve had several cups of coffee and I’ve listened to two Taylor Swift albums. Annnnd I’m probably exhausted.

As I said before, creation isn’t easy. The three hours this took is, in a way, a very condensed lifetime evolution. What I mean is that when I begin my transformation, I start with lingerie. When I began creating who I am, this also started with lingerie. Seeing a Victoria’s Secret catalog was like an alarm going off. And yes, a lot of boys might say the same thing, but this was a SIREN. It was an awakening. It was “yes, the girl is pretty but OMG look at her lingerie”.

The siren continued all throughout my life. My sisters would get a new dress and the siren sang. A pretty girl in school showed off her black patent MaryJane’s. My cousin in her wedding dress. The siren rang and I made a silent and solemn vow of “someday”. Creation and inspiration and aspiration went hand in hand.

It was only fitting that lingerie awakened me as panties were the first thing I was brave enough to buy for myself. The first thing I wore under my boy clothes. It didn’t take long for a matching bra to clasp behind my back. And honestly, what’s better than pairing a matching bra and panty with a garter belt and black stockings?

Every piece of lingerie, whether it was a camisole or a nightgown or a lacey bodysuit not only FELT right, but this feeling was a reinforcement and confirmation and reassurance I was, more or less, going in the right direction. I was creating myself, without the benefits of instructions and or guidance. It would be a long time until the internet would be helpful for this journey. I was winging it. I was following my instinct, my impulses, my intuition.

I still follow these things, but I suppose it’s shorter to say that I am following my heart. So much of one’s creation is just listening to the little voice in your head and not resisting your desires. You can’t deny who you are. In order to move forward we must first come out to ourselves.

I continued to pay attention to the siren, but I suppose it was an alluring siren song, not a blaring alarm. I was pulled into the direction of beautiful dresses, I was helpless to resist the highest heels. I was hypnotized by the potential of makeup, by the power of makeup.

When one creates, it’s not a surprise if they arrive at a point when they feel they are finished. Like an artist thinking the painting is ready for the museum but they just can’t put the brush down. I felt that I was complete with lingerie. I really did. I had beautiful bras and panties. How could someone possibly want more? How could I possibly feel more complete?

I had tried on the occasional dress during the early years and I didn’t really connect with them. I assumed that *this* was just about panties and nighties. But as I learned a while ago it takes the right dress to make a girl glow. I learned that a dress needs to do more than just fit. It needs to fit right. It needs to emphasize the parts of yourself you want to flaunt and it might need to minimize aspects of yourself that you’re not really a big fan of.

But more importantly, a dress, an outfit, ANYTHING, also needs to create a FEELING. A feeling that says YES. Happiness, beauty, comfort, confidence, all of that. Once I experienced what a dress can do, there was no turning back. Creation had started again.

It’s a reminder that we’re on a journey and it’s okay to take a break. It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to start again and to start over. It’s okay to go slow.

I loved my dresses but something wasn’t right. I loved seeing my reflection, I loved that the mirror was reflecting someone who was brave enough to be who they are. The dress was beautiful, but something was missing.

I had resisted a wig and makeup for my entire life. I assumed that this side of me was *just* about clothes. God, I was naive when I look back. I knew transitioning was not right for me. I didn’t feel I needed to “look like a girl”. I thought I was a boy that wore girl clothes. I didn’t know one could identify as more than one gender. I didn’t know I could be beautiful but not transition.

But one night, in a black gown, my wife carefully applied makeup to my trembling face. After she was finished, I looked into the mirror apprehensively… and although I knew that creation was once again beginning, I could see the potential.

I could see my smile.

It’s the same smile I see whenever I am en femme, but my lipstick is a little brighter these days. I am reminded that it was following my heart that led me to where I am. I am reminded that notebooks at Target are sometimes more just bound paper.