Over my life, I've had various understandings of femininity.
As someone who was raised as a boy, my idea of femininity was first formed by observing how my sisters, my mother, girls at school, and women in society were treated by those around them.
It was not particularly informative, and superficial. Hence, my initial understanding became superficial, as you might expect.
I had no knowledge of feminism. Of oppression.
The introduction of testosterone into my body at puberty brought me many masculine family traits. My bone structure, upper body size, hair growth and the like.
I began to become aware as an observer of misogyny, but my understanding was fleeting, again superficial.
As I came to understand my felt gender, I would try and overcome that which I learned and how I had grown through hyper-feminine expression.
As I've explained to some, my attempts to bury that person I saw in the mirror under makeup and clothes, like a child drowning their pancakes in syrup, was over-compensating, naive.
Within the crossdressing community, I revelled in being able to explore this expression.
My understanding of misogyny grew, as I saw first-hand how boys and men were hated by others and even themselves for choosing to express femininity.
As I underwent my social transition, and I progressed to living in our society in my felt gender, my concerns shifted to adaptation - to learning how to move about in public without attracting unwanted attention.
Within the crossdressing community, I saw others begin their exploration, watched others and participated in encouraging others to "pass".
And then through my physical transition, I begun questioning gender itself. It's composition.
I began to understand a deeper idea of feminism. Of misogyny. Of trans-misogyny. Of oppression.
Within the crossdressing community, I saw others express the sentiment that those of us post-transition just didn't put enough effort into our presentation. I began feeling alienated. Even expressly invited to leave. The irony was that without the crossdressing community, I would never have mustered the courage needed to try life in my felt gender. I wouldn't be here but for it.
And now, I am far enough into my transition that I no longer have those daily reminders of my gender history. Mostly, I see myself. Imperfect, but genuine. Clothing doesn't affect it. Makeup doesn't affect it. I'm removed enough from my dysphoria that I can leave the house without makeup for a quick trip to the corner store. I could easily slip into a suit, and just be a woman wearing a suit.
But I don't feel like I've "arrived".
I still feel like the words of others have undue bearing on me. I hear the words that family and friends had spoken to and around me during my transition echoed by strangers with similar sentiments. Will I have arrived if these words no longer shift my balance?
I still feel like I am missing things that mothers teach their daughters, that girls teach each other when they're young. Will I have arrived when I know these things?
Or, am I the person standing on the platform after the train has left, not realizing that I had already de-trained, looking around me trying to make sense of the station.
Not knowing the balance I have because I'm not being pushed off it.
Unable to see my unknown knowns.
