For crossdressers who are happy exiles from, or active participants in the life of, the Roman Catholic Church, faint echoes of vanishing rituals may come to mind at the reading of today’s post headline. Yes, Petra was raised in a Catholic setting. I suspect now, after some reflection, that most of my family would rather picture me in Priestly robes than the robes I prefer. Alas. I ask myself though, exactly what kind of lapsed Catholic Cross Dresser and blogette would I be if I could not somehow integrate my past and present rituals in a nicely twisted tumble of words? Hence The Stations of the Crossdresser.
For those of you from different faith traditions, The Stations of the Cross are the 14 tiny shrines that depict the final hours in the life of Christ that line the left and right interior walls of the typical parish church. During the Lenten season the flock might stop briefly at each of the stations for a moment of reflection. Each station could be thought of as a minor pilgrimage.
And do you know what? 14 seems like a good number of milestone events that the crossdresser might achieve in an exemplary life. And together we might call them The Stations of the Crossdresser. Each of them a minor, or for many, a major pilgrimage that together aggregate up into a greater gurly whole. A thing to be proud of, not boastful, but quietly proud. In the same way that a mountaineering enthusiast might want to summit the highest peaks on each continent (mounting The 7 Sisters for you clowns in the back row) we dressing enthusiasts should agree on our badges (broaches?) of honor.
I don’t have a comprehensive list just now of the 14 Stations of the Crossdresser but a handful come easily to mind. A makeup session in a public setting. A trip to Victoria’s Secret. Dinner out en femme. For the rest, I am going to count on informed input and breathless suggestions from you dear reader. When I am privileged to make a pilgrimage, I will report back to you. Perhaps we can agree on an orthodoxy, on our shared rites, not a theology per se, but with your forgiveness and forbearance, perhaps a Sheology.
I propose here that the First Station of the Crossdresser is a trip to a shrine known to my American sisters as the Designer Shoe Warehouse. I believe this to be a fine place to start because while the barefoot pilgrimage is fine for other traditions, I think we can agree that barefoot is entirely wrong for our set.
I will publish the particulars of this pilgrimage tomorrow. Its all simply too much to ask you to try on in one sitting. In the meantime, and anytime really though, I encourage you to think of those special milestones, those places of meaning, those frontiers of femininity that should be on our list of Stations of the Crossdresser. Ours is an inclusive congregation here, deliberative and refined we are. Your help is needed. I so look forward to hearing from you.
Have a Super Sunday, whatever shape and shade that takes for you!