Sissy Cowboy

As many of you know, I particularly love this kind of story: about a person who just decides to be who they are in whatever small town they’re living in. In this case, Sissy is particularly amazing: to take the name Sissy, for starters, but Wyoming?! Damn.

Sissy Goodwin is out shopping. He’s on the hunt for an industrial-sized wrench for a home handyman project along with two special somethings: colored hair bows and a pretty new dress — preferably red, size 12.

He walks through a mall, a linebacker-sized figure in a pink skirt, lacy yellow blouse and five-o’clock shadow; a gold lamé purse slung over his shoulder and a white bow affixed to his receding gray hair. The 67-year-old college science instructor looks straight ahead, ignoring the stares and the catcalls.

That said, I have a particular soft spot and respect for sissies – they’re like the bottom of every possible hierarchy within & without the trans community, but I hope there are plenty of others like me who know that Sissy is no way “less than” any other kind of (trans) person.

Worth reading. And good for you, Sissy.

2 Replies to “Sissy Cowboy”

  1. I don’t have any problems with sissies or any other part of the transgender spectrum. It is sad that sissies and many others are subjected to ridicule, scorn, bullying and right hooks. To me, it is a bit odd to be a sissy, but who am I to judge. I am a pre-op MtF in transition so I can’t be pointing any fingers at anyone really.

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