The Time I Won the Roller Disco Fashion Show

My Favorite Lines

A Missing Entrant Has Arrived

In any social gathering with lots of cis women, there’s a fashion show going on. Part inspo, part indicator of common interests, part competition (in order).

Not everyone participates, obviously. And they shouldn’t have to.

Why participate? Because I’m proud of my presentation. Because I love style and ornamentation and beauty. Because I love talking to other femmes about their style (amazing icebreaker btw). Because I don’t know how to do the things other women do and I want to learn.

And because I want to prove a point.1 

I’m particularly proud because this was 70s night at the roller rink.

Have you been recently? Omg. Bounce skaters, jam skaters, bellbottoms and vintage t-shirts everywhere. People wearing headphones and grooving to their own music as they speed along. Just an atmosphere of pure fun.

I loved skating growing up. Had my own pair of rollerblades. There’s this beautiful freedom to it. To just glide along with the wind and the music. Once you get good, there’s the thrill of pushing your limits, weaving and bobbing between people and learning to bounce.

This is my vibe. This is my Mecca.I’m hooked.

skip this section if you’re a straight, cis male (you’ll get bored)

So I wore teal tights, light pastel purple skirt shorts, a white long sleeve tunic top, a peridot green pendant necklace and a pink/blue swirl headband (to rep my tribe). All Amazon, total price: ~$100.

Too many colors right? Wrong. I’m a bright spring and these colors blend naturally into each other. No jarring contrasts.

The most interesting thing, imo, is that the white shirt (by not being colorful) becomes the natural focus, which in turn pushes the eye upwards over the bust and to the hair.

It’s a Farah Fawcett/hair show outfit. Bright and colorful, but everything pushes focus back to the bust, hair and face. My top is loose fitting, which camouflages my modest bust and push their eyes further up to my hair.

I know what I’m doing.

Hair-wise, I did an unbalanced look and used two barrettes (pink and blue, duh) to pin the hair on my left to settle behind my ear (which ultimately makes the ends curl under my ear). My hair curls naturally, so all I did was blow dry for volume. Then a tiny bit of hairspray to settle the part and maintain the volume on top. Finally, a headband for 30 minutes to create layers and waves.

Then three rings, two on my left middle, one of which was a flowery polymer ring, and one on my left pinky. The others were gold colored, to match my glasses, earrings and necklace.

Finally, makeup. Maybelline 118 foundation. Soft gold swirl eyeliner (pencil, I gave up trying pen), covering my entire visible upper eyelid, with a thin half ring under the eye. Then mascara.

That’s it. My normal aesthetic is (Girl Next Door + pastel Katy Perry). Since this is a full on girl next door outfit, no eyeshadow.

Also makeup is hard to learn and eye shadow is my max capacity.

PPS: I went to a femme art gallery event last night and the most stylish woman there came over and complimented my color selection!!!! I then gushed about her shoes. Then the masculine leaning non-binary person with us went “you two are so cute” and I turned beet red but also loved the compliment!

No One’s Dressing to Impress You, Bro

I care way more what women think of my presentation than I do men. Men offer up/down verdicts. I want to hear nuanced takes on my presentation, not “you look hot”. I mean, I want to hear that too! But it’s less important and becomes meaningless the more you hear it.

Men often have this sometimes off-putting, sometimes endearing… simplicity? So many more on/off switches, far fewer gradients. Always in a rush, always hunting the “win condition”.

On the other hand, men be like “women = manipulative” and women be like “it’s called goal oriented thinking”.

There’s this great episode of South Park where girls start joining the board game club at the school. At first, the boys are like “we don’t want them because they’ll be bad and ruin the game.” Cue an immediate cut to the girls outplaying all of the boys because the girls take the time to understand the rules and strategize beforehand. Cut to the boys in the principal’s office complaining the girls are ruining things by being too strategic.

Good commentary, imo. Men don’t like women in their spaces. And they especially don’t like it when women enter their space and outperform them.

Did you know pink/blue is the trans flag? That’s why I did these for a while.

I always wear pink and blue. If not my clothing, a headband or ring.

I exist. We exist.

Many, if not most, transwomen want to pass socially. To be viewed as a woman and only a woman. And they are successful. You have, likely, met one of us. You didn’t know, and that’s precisely what she wanted. You knowing might put her in danger.

We’re are in danger. You get that right? Physically and socially. I’m 6 feet 200 lbs and there are many bars in Nashville I will not risk going to. I avoid the places I’m not welcome (and all cis white ladies over 50 because they hate my presence and/or view me as a shiny bauble).

I identify as a transwoman.2 That is my tribe. I consider myself a woman in the same way Bernie Sanders caucuses with Democrats.

That’s my identification. Every other transwoman’s identification is equally valid (for them). It’s called self-determination.

Point is, I want people to know I exist and we exist. In the grocery store, in line at the UPS store returning clothing to Amazon (I do this so much) and in my professional life.

So I rep our colors.

If you don’t see us, you don’t think of us. Out of sight, out of mind.

Or we’re in the news, and what’s happening concerns you, but you still don’t know one of us, so you’re not personally invested in our survival.

If you read an article about an attack on a fifty year old Jewish man on the subway, and you look down the hall and see a fifty year old Jewish man you’ve worked with for twenty years, it hits a little harder.

It does. He’s in your tribe. Not your religious tribe, but your social tribe. He’s one of you. He is real.

If you’ve never met a Jewish person in your life, you might be morally outraged, but it doesn’t hit as close to home.

This is called being human.