Crossdresser vs transgender is a question I’ve asked myself more times than I can count.
For the longest time, I thought I was just a crossdresser.
Not because that label felt perfect, but because I didn’t think I had the right to use any other word. I wasn’t transitioning—even if I wanted to. So calling myself transgender felt like claiming something I hadn’t earned.
But that question kept creeping in: crossdresser vs transgender. Where did I actually fit?
It took me years to figure that out. Quietly. Privately. And yeah, sometimes painfully.
Crossdresser vs Transgender: No Big Epiphany, Just Familiar Signs
I didn’t have some big dramatic realization. No crying in the mirror, no “I’m a girl” moment. It was slower than that. A quiet build-up of small signs that didn’t mean much at the time, but looking back? Oh, they meant everything.
Growing up, most of my friends were girls. I never really fit in with “the guys.” I eventually found a group in high school where I kinda blended in, but even then, it felt off. Like I was acting. Like I was borrowing someone else’s skin.
I always felt more comfortable around girls. Their energy felt right. I’d go to the mall with them, wander around stores, give outfit feedback—and I genuinely enjoyed it. Not because I was trying to fit in, but because I felt more like myself around them.
There was even a day we went prom dress shopping. I laughed, gave opinions, and yeah… I tried one on. It should’ve been humiliating. But it wasn’t. It felt normal. Familiar. A little too good in a way I couldn’t name yet.
Cringe Starts, Quiet Thrills
Okay, here goes: I used to steal panties from girls I knew.
Yeah. Cringe. I’m not proud of it. But it’s part of my story.
At the time, I didn’t fully get why I did it. I just knew they were soft, cute, and very much not something I was supposed to be wearing. That made it exciting. And yeah, it was sexual. But also? They felt good. Not just sexy good. Right good. Like they connected me to something I didn’t have access to otherwise.
From Secret Kinks to Something More
After college is when everything shifted.
I started buying my own stuff instead of stealing. And it wasn’t just panties anymore—I was picking out skirts, blouses, soft tops. Things I liked. Things that felt good on my skin. There was still a thrill, sure, but not from arousal. It was more the “I’m doing something forbidden” kind of rush. And even that started fading.
I wasn’t dressing to get off. I was dressing because I just… liked it. It made me feel better. More real. More me.
And that scared the hell out of me.
When Everything Got Messy (In the Best Way)
Eventually, I started asking myself: If I like the clothes… do I like other things girls like?
That question opened the floodgates.
At first, it was mostly sexual. I wondered if maybe I liked men. I didn’t act on it with anyone, but I definitely experimented with toys. And yeah… I loved it. So then I asked myself, Am I gay?
I know now that sexuality and gender are two different things, but back then? I had no clue. I just knew I was confused and everything felt tangled together.
Trying On Girlhood, One Piece at a Time
It wasn’t just about sex. I started trying out things I associated with women—even if it was based on some idealized, TV version of femininity.
I read romance novels. Lit candles. Watched rom coms. I took up sewing and crocheting. I know that not all women like that stuff and lots of men do. But in my head at the time? These were “girl things,” and I wanted to see how they felt.
I even started mimicking how women moved. The way they sat, crossed their legs, tilted their heads, even how they… peed. (Yes, I know. TMI. Whatever.) Some things felt awkward. But some things? They just made sense.
Emotionally, I started becoming more self-aware. I let myself feel things I used to bury. Shame, mostly. But also comfort. Curiosity. And yeah—joy.
Creatively, something cracked open. Michelle made space for a part of me I didn’t know existed. I started writing more. Daydreaming. Thinking bigger. I felt more inspired than I ever had in boy mode.
Why I Didn’t Think I Was Trans Enough
This part still stings.
I didn’t think I deserved to call myself transgender. Sometimes, I still don’t. I looked at the trans women online—the ones who came out, transitioned, fought for themselves—and I felt like a fraud.
I’m married. I have kids. I’m the only income in our house. My wife stays home. If I lost my job, we’d lose everything. So even if I wanted to transition fully, I don’t feel like I can. Not right now.
And beyond that? I didn’t want my kids to be the ones with “two moms.” Or worse, the ones with the “freak dad.” I hate that those thoughts even cross my mind—but they do. I want to protect them. I don’t want them to suffer just because I need to be myself.
My wife knows. She’s not cruel, but I don’t think she fully believes me either. She asks me not to dress around the kids, and I get that. They’re still little. The world isn’t exactly kind to people like us.
But for a long time, all of that convinced me I wasn’t transgender. That I was just a crossdresser. That calling myself trans would be stealing a word from people who actually “earned” it.
When the Crossdresser Label Didn’t Fit Anymore
But then… I didn’t really fit in with crossdressers either.
Most of what I saw in that world was all about being sexy, taking selfies, getting validation. And that’s not me. I’ve never posted a picture of myself, and I’m not going to start now. Not here. Not anywhere.
I don’t want to be admired. I don’t want attention. I want to exist. Quietly. As myself.
And when I’m Michelle, I do feel like myself. Feminine. Content. Right. Not aroused. Not pretending. Just me.
Crossdresser vs Transgender: Finding the Right Words (Finally)
Somewhere along the way, I realized the heart of the crossdresser vs transgender question wasn’t just about labels—it was about identity, belonging, and whether I was allowed to take up space as I truly am.
I didn’t get here alone. Reddit helped. Discord helped. So did other blogs, trans friends, strangers on the internet who were kind enough to share their stories.
The more I listened, the more I realized I wasn’t pretending. I wasn’t lost. I just didn’t have the words before.
Now I do.
I’m transgender.
Even if I’m not out. Even if I can’t transition right now. Even if I’m still figuring this shit out.
Why I Left Crossdresser Chronicles
I used to run a blog called Crossdresser Chronicles. At the time, that name fit. I really believed that’s all I was.
But things change. I changed. And that label doesn’t work for me anymore.
So I started Between Genders to give myself a space that actually fits who I am now. And okay—yeah, part of it was because Blogger’s Google Search Console pissed me off. But mostly, I needed something that reflected me.
I’ll also be bringing over a few posts from Crossdresser Chronicles. It was a short-lived blog, but it helped me figure out a lot early on. Some of that content still holds value—especially for crossdressers who might be starting to ask the same questions I did. That label was part of my path, even if it’s not where I landed.
Crossdresser vs Transgender: Where I Am Now
I don’t have it all figured out. I still have doubts. I still feel stuck in between.
But I’m not broken. I’m not faking it. And I’m not just dressing up.
I’m transgender.
Even if I can only say that here, online, where no one knows me… it still matters.
💬 Ever asked yourself the crossdresser vs transgender question? Have you ever felt like you weren’t enough to claim either label?
You’re not alone. I promise.
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