Long before I acknowledged I was transgender, long before I knew it for sure, I gave hints to anyone who cared to pay attention.

I'm older than many of you reading this. So, my origin story begins in an era that may be ancient history to you. But it informs the person I became; the person I am today.

It probably goes without saying that I was different from my siblings--two very masculine older brothers and a younger sister. By the time I'd hit my late teens, I'd become a surrogate mother to my sister after our mother died. It wasn't something I chose to do, but it was something I accepted in lieu of my father who put in long hours at work and my older brothers who walked away from any responsibility. So, I became a teenage mom.

High school is only an unpleasant memory for me. My mother's cancer fight took up much of my time the first couple of years, as I took on the role of her main caretaker. For the same reasons I would become the mother of the family after her passing.

I never dated, for reasons you can surely understand. My care-taking duties were a partial excuse, but the uncomfortable prospect of dating a girl was the underlying reason. Luckily, for me, everyone around me gave me a sympathetic pass. They never asked and I never explained.

My high school still had a dress code at the time of my graduation. That stifled any fashion statement I'd dare to make. So I didn't. Upon graduation, though, it changed.

Without the imposed restrictions of a dress code, I began dressing the way I wanted. The "glam" style of David Bowie, Marc Bolan of T-Rex and other British rockers, became my fashion idols. I started purchasing clothing from boutiques in the ritzy parts of Oakland County. Clothing made of satin and silk and adorned with sequins.

The beauty of it was that the glam rocker persona I'd adopted, provided cover for my feminine self. I was feeling euphoric in the satin pants I wore, openly and to the dismay of my father and brothers. They wrote it off to teenage rebellion. Little did they know.

I pushed the envelope. I became tangentially engaged with the music scene in the Detroit area. I knew many of the local musicians, went to all of the local clubs and dive bars. I even dated a groupie for a while.

It was through her, actually, that I got to meet and sit next to David Johansen of the New York Dolls. My date had used her "connections" to get us to an after-party with David and the boys. It was the band, me and a bunch of local groupies. We hung out at a sleazy drinking establishment, and while I was nursing a soda (I didn't drink alcohol) at the bar, Johansen sidled up next to me. We made casual conversation while he downed glass after glass of Remy Martin. All the while I stared at him admiringly. His look became my look.

Glam rock became the head-banging, hair-metal bands of the 1980s. And my style evolved along with them.

One rocker who influenced me then and still to this day, was Joan Jett. First, when she was with The Runaways, and then as lead singer of the Blackhearts. Even now, Jett is my fashion template, although an aging trans Goth may outrage the local citizenry.

Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. The rest of my transition journey has been subtle, less obvious to any observers.

Until now.

--- Anni

BONUS: Since most of you have never heard of, nor actually heard, the New York Dolls, I've decided to share their debut album with you. Crank it up to eleven and give it a listen!

https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_lPcQ2RALXlWEBnnE8g4HfIV_XsW27CDUU

New York Dolls album cover and Joan Jett