Invert - Octavia Alliggayu

In the book of Deuteronomy, it is stated, “The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that

do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.” Yet I cannot help but reconcile the notion that boys are permitted the gown until their breeching ceremony.

Would that mean that all men here in the queen’s England have sinned and must repent? Yet, why is it that inside, I wish my breeching ceremony had never

happened.

From a young age, I cherished my years in such dress, helping my mother knit as I gazed with wonder. Yet, my father dragged me to pubs and archery to

understand manhood. During my breeching ceremony, father insisted I grow to be a man otherwise I would be seen as an abomination. The idea of an

abomination frightened me, so I did what I could to meet his expectations. I learned every duty expected of men – self-discipline, leadership, refinement –

eventually earning his nods of approval with a pocket watch on my sixteenth birthday. On my nineteenth birthday, father has given me everything he has learned

and is finally confident in my life to live as a man. So, I was able to live inside my own flat; while working a job my father had given me. The job was rather simple,

being of assistance towards women and children as they began to spin and weave textiles. Though the children and women were often a delight to work with, I

questioned whether children should toil rather than learn to become men and women.

However, one day I noticed a rumor that had been true. Rumor says that two men were seen dressed in puffy dresses that only a woman would wear, as they

continued to walk forward. They strut the roads with such deviance and boldness, such that everyone around them would stare at them, as the people witness

the abomination that is right in front of their own eyes. They would then head to a tavern, a ten-minute walk from my flat, where more men like them would

engage in acts such as flirtation or sodomy. Yet just recently, these two men were arrested for their acts of crossdressing in public, known as “Stella” and “Fanny.”

The workplace then buzzes of these two men, condemning their actions, as they crowned the two as “Mollies” or “Inverts” while the two men were nowhere to be

seen in this factory.

Yet, the idea of these men in elegant dresses. The sleeves and puffs hugging their arms with beauty, the skirt cascading down like a beautiful waterfall, the idea

of walking down as the skirt brushed the pavement. I’d imagine myself in such dress. A simple dress, nothing extravagant. A dress with the shade of chestnuts.

The frills, a lighter chestnut color, complementing the dress with its femininity, seen through the waistline and collar. But most of all, the skirt, smooth as a hill,

with the flare just 3 inches from the bottom of the dress. Yet, one such as myself, wearing such would be condemned as a sin from God.

Though I heed the words of the people in the factory, I could not help but wonder what is inside such tavern. What it would be like to be with other men, yearning

to wear the garments of a woman with such audacity. What life would be like as one of them.

Better yet, I have pondered the idea of living as a woman for quite some time now. It’s rather perverted, however, I do fancy the dresses worn by women while

walking into Church. The hair all tied up into a beautiful hat, the skirt that sways as they walk, their gracious walks as they walk to their seats. I found myself

coveting the life of a woman more than the trousers I wear while church is in session. Surely, others have thought about this, have they not? Yet, the book of

Deuteronomy states the abomination of wearing such garments. As stated, “...neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination

unto the Lord thy God...” However, the same bible I was given state the exact lines, “There is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.” Does the

word of grace not contravene the verses in the book of Deuteronomy? If my heart is to be a woman, am I not a liar in the eyes of the Lord? Does the Lord not

despise a false witness? Is it plausible the elementary beliefs of a Christian be at discord with the holy scripture? My mind continued to cloud verses that

controvert the ones against my own case. One bible verse to another, clashing, as the battle continued to rage inside my head. My breath began to shorten, as I

tried to close my eyes and pray, hoping for a true answer from the lord. The thoughts continued to race, until there came a point my worries simmered. God

answered me, and god, it feels me with joy that I have your Answer.

So, when the clock struck six on a Sunday evening, I decide to bring my suitcase to analyze these men, shamed by the rest of society. Inside the suitcase was

nothing but a blank, dark, slate, as I expect a dress in return to understand such men. As expected through my pocket watch, 6:10, exactly a ten-minute walk from

here to the tavern. Though the entire city became nothing but the croak of a grasshopper, the tavern beamed with such liveliness.

I entered the tavern, greeted by the bustling nature of men. Men that gazed in each other’s eyes with a longing. A longing that one day, their life would be

peaceful, together. A longing deep inside for such matrimony. Though, this must have been my imagination. “Greetings!” A man cheerfully says as he

approached me. The man wore of a maroon dress. A dress that consisted of white frills on the sleeves, a skirt that flowed with beauty, similar to a waterfall. His

petticoat carrying the weight of the skirt, creating an illusion of a woman, though inside was not.

My body jumped as the man greeted from behind me. I could feel the hairs on my skin prick up as he appeared. Knowing my timid nature, I sway my hand left

and right to give a “hello” to the man.

“Good day to you,” I responded.

“Oh! Where are my manners!” said the man. “I am Sebastian. Though in this tavern, I am Sebastia. Goodness, it looks as if you have seen a ghost!” He then

proceeds to laugh heartily. I then tried to mimic his laugh. Not perfect, but just enough so that I do not make a joke of him.

“Elias,” I respond back. “I was taking my evening walk whilst the night prevailed. Yet I have stumbled upon lights from this tavern.”

“Oh!” Sebastia jumped with glee. “In this case, I would like to welcome you to our humble abode!”

Sebastia then scanned me and my attire and shakes his head. “It seems as if you are not in attire. We have a bountiful of dresses for you to choose if you prefer.”

With no hesitation, I nodded, as Sebastia showed me to the dresses. Oh, I must tell you the hundreds of dresses inside the tavern. Though I stumbled upon one.

One exactly from my dreams. A chestnut-colored dress with puffs and frills on the sleeves, complimenting the dress with its femininity, seen through the

waistline and collar. But most of all, the skirt, smooth as a hill, with the flare just 3 inches from the bottom of the dress. I immediately slipped the dress on. Each

tug feeling like a quilt hugging a man into sleep through the storm god had sent down below. Each part of the dress slipped in like a mother yearning for their

lost child. But the child finally returned to the mother’s arms. The wig then proceeds to smooth over my head, completing the entire look. The dress was finally

on, and as I looked into the mirror, no longer recognizing the man my father worked me to be. Instead, I saw a beautiful young woman. Though this woman was

not like the women in the factory, this woman was me. I then proceeded to step out, each step feeling lighter than the next, as I broke into a smile. This was where

I saw Sebastia, as he smiled and hugged me.

“Oh, miss! You look lovely today!” as Sebastia smiled. Though this would only make a man wince, this only would color my cheeks the color of a rose. Sebastia

then pulled me into the tavern, where I began to live for the first time since my breeching ceremony. I then saw a woman holding a teapot with her delicate

hands, as I asked for a cup. As the tea poured, I gazed with wonder, seeing life come to me not as a chore, but rather as a beauty. After picking the teacup up with

my delicate and feminine hands, the tea was no longer tea. It was a warm, delicate affirmation, each sip whispering that I was finally a woman, a day I have

longed for since my breeching. I then watched as a man, in his feminine attire, got on stage. He then recited a poem. A poem about freedom, love, and life

through his own eyes. He then waved his hands with swift motion, empathizing with the life he longs for, and the fight he is willing to show. The emphasis on his

voice as his expressions deepened, showing the emotions through this poem. To where he finished with silence, as delicate claps begin to fill the entire room.

Though I would normally view life through the most neutral lens, this poem became the first beat of life. A life, I would continue to cherish.

“Oh! I see you take the tavern to your liking, Miss Elias?” as Sebastia approached me with a warm smile. I then saw his face, smiling politely.

“Please,” I responded. “Call me Eleanor.”

Sebastia smiled as she looked into my eyes. “Well, Miss Eleanor! I am delighted you enjoy this humble abode! I’m sure you will find a beautiful man to

accompany you one day!” This confounded me. Confusion started to fill my head, wondering what the devil Sebastia speaks of. A man? The notion of being with a

man or a woman struck me as absurd. Though I have enjoyed the happiness of men and women engaging in love, the idea would never replicate onto someone

such as myself. The tavern then began to feel more disengaged. As the laugh rippled through the room, I noticed a couple. Two men, dressed as women, who

blushed with hearts on their sleeves, gazing to each others’ eyes. Each of the men then began to passionately kiss one another, devoting their love to each other

through an elongated kiss. This lasted for 2 minutes, until the two men request for a room together. I then watched as they both held hands, gazing to each

other’s eyes as they disappeared into the second part of the tavern: the inn. However, this wasn’t only the case for the couple, more couples began to request for

rooms, as Sebastia happily directed the couple upstairs to an empty room. I then noticed more and more of these men disappearing into the stairs of the inn,

staring at the stairway with confusion rather than excitement. Sebastia then begins to approach me, with the same-colored cheeks as the other men had before

they left. She leaned closer, with a playful gleam in her eyes. “Miss Eleanor,” she spoke with a soft voice. “You look positively radiant this evening. Surely, you do

not mean to sit alone this evening. Come, allow me the pleasure of your company.” She then offered her hand as the dressed swayed to accompany her body. I

then felt as a feeling began to rise from my body. Though, it was not the same emotion as the other men. Vomit emerged from my mouth as the sludge crashed

onto the floor. I then looked up as Sebastia began to fill with concern. Sebastia with shock in his eyes, “Goodness! Miss Eleanor, do you need to—” I then bolted

away from Sebastia, feeling the horror and embarrassment fill my face. I picked up the skirt to then rush upstairs to the Inn. Surely, I was safe from Sebastia and

the flirting. However, I later then found two couples, dressed back in men’s clothing, going back to their everyday lives, as the clock struck half an hour before

midnight. Shock and confusion began to fill my body. I started to question life inside this tavern. The handful of men in dresses, the life I began to live, the tea I

sipped, the poem I devoured. The tavern that once brought me joy and warmth, now became a haven of anxiety and confusion. Is the joy I felt within this tavern

all a lie? I then picked up my skirt, as I rushed towards the stairs of the inn. The tavern, still filled with that warmth, began to blur my eyes, as I trudge towards the

exit. I then began to run with the skirt, still lifted, away from the tavern. For seven minutes, I ran. I carried the weight of the dress and the heat of the wig, as tears

filled my eyes. The tavern that I thought would heal this longing inside me became nothing but a hoax. Tears continued to fall, as I wept for the life I thought I

could live. The life I have wished for since the breeching ceremony.

I then approached my flat, as the door slams shut, leaving only me, and the silence of the night. With the dress on, I put the weight of my body against the wall

and let gravity lower my body as I fell into despair. Why was life there a lie? Why did women go back as men when they left the tavern? Why did I not understand

the love inside the tavern as I would not understand with a man and a woman? Why have I been deceived? I continued to cry for eight more minutes, eventually

calming myself down. My head then edged downward as I still saw the dress on. I then walked towards the mirror to still see that woman. The woman who I

longed for, still in front of me.

“Invert...” I whispered. I let the word linger, as I judged the word. Though the more I considered it, the more I saw how little it truly applied to me: not the desires,

the expectations, or the borrowed performance of femininity for others’ delight. Through the mirror, I saw a woman. A woman, me. A woman who desired

nothing but peace within her internal and external life. A woman who laughed while the gown embraced her body. A woman whose heart knew neither longing

nor compromise.

“Invert...” I whispered again. An insufficient word that defined me. I then watched the

navy blue sky and its white holes from the heavens above. I then sat on my bed, as a sheepish

smile touched my lips. They may call me an invert, a sinner, or a mistake, but I know myself

only as a woman who finally is in her own life. I am Eleanor.

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Octavia is currently a sophomore at the University of Albany, and has written this story for a class. However, she has decided to share it in hopes it could serve as a way for other closeted trans women to have representation.