My First Outing as a Woman

The Adventures of a Trans Woman

The Third Sex Issue 1, article 5 (May 1930)

The day was unforgettable for me, the first time I walked the streets as a woman. Long had I desired it and only experienced it in secret dreams. I had found a good friend to whom I was able to reveal what had slumbered inside me as a carefully guarded secret since childhood. With loving understanding, she was happy to help me fulfill my most secret wishes.

Not much preparation was necessary, as I was used to wearing elegant women’s clothing underneath my men’s clothing, and yet, as soon as the opportunity arose, I swapped the forced masculine mask with my real face, that of a woman, and was used to wearing women’s clothing and jewelry at home. Also, my figure, with its accentuated hips, the slim waist, the feminine back line, the narrow, sloping shoulders and the feminine bust, was better suited to the clothes than the suit.

I needed little tutoring from a knowledgeable woman to complete the outward image of a lady in going-out clothes. The hat cast soft shadows over the veiled face, which had only a faint touch of powder, a barely noticeable bit of eyeliner and a trace of rouge. Inconspicuous blonde, which mingled with my curly hair on the forehead, flowed in heavy waves over the ears adorned with fine pearls and tied into a full bun at the nape of the neck. The high-necked blouse was decorated with a delicate clasp. The dark tailored dress sat wonderfully, from which the hand, half shrouded in lace, looked narrow and small in the white glove. The umbrella rested in my arm like a good friend. A discreet perfume and the soft clinking of the bracelets rounded off the picture, which was of inconspicuous elegance. I felt all of this as I passed the children playing on the stairs of the elegant house in which the transformation had just taken place.

One last hesitation came over me as I crossed the threshold of the house, but my friend’s reassurance drove it away. Naturally, we strode through the evening streets with their colorful light. Oh, how happy I was! How much release I felt! How the rhythm of the feminine walk flew through my limbs! Everything was tenderness, delicacy and joyfulness. It was a blessing to shake off the mask for once and to be able to present myself to human eyes.

A movie theater caught our eye. — As we entered the box, a gentleman rose from the front row and offered me his seat with masculine politeness. How did I feel to know that strangers treated me with respect and to be addressed as a gracious woman? I sent a warm, glowing look of thanks to him. I was too shy to speak. During these hours I completely forgot my manhood, I was completely a woman. All my previous memories were erased. I left the box and gave a slight nod, and this nod, too, was lifegiving.

We returned to the streets. I felt how gentlemen’s eyes were looking for mine and there was a desire in them that I was not allowed to satisfy. On the way home I gratefully squeezed my friend’s arm, who gave me many blissful evenings among strangers who had no idea, and thus created a happiness for me that hurt no one, but which only so rarely reaches one of us and that often has to be paid for so bitterly.

A cheerful meal, to which a second lady was invited, let the evening fade away with subtle girl talk. I was completely a woman among women. Every look, every movement, even the the ring-adorned hand run through the blond waves of the hair, was born from the deepest feminine feelings. All the female instincts that were once insulated were now fully awakened. I was so completely a woman that my friend’s guest only found out about my double life when we revealed the secret. With a friendly smile, she took it as a matter of course, and in no way changed her way of looking at me, for streams of femininity flowed from me to her.

I had become so confident that, as a matter of course, I also made the nightly way home in my dress and did not get flustered when a gentleman asked me for directions. I rather calmly informed him that we were going the same way and that he could accompany me quietly.

I blissfully arrived home and dreamily thought back on the night for many hours. Sometimes I still walk the streets as a woman, but it hasn’t been as blissful as that first day. Every hour I spend as a woman, however, is a gift from heaven. I always long to be a member of an art-loving and refined circle in which I, as a woman, can move around among other people and there find loving consideration of my femininity and individuality, as the two friends showed me on my first day out as a woman.