Because we are transgendered, we have the ability to blur in thought and action the line between genders. This in turn puts us in the position to, if we embrace the part without fear, experience radically different emotions that perhaps our male sides would. What I am reacting to and referring to are not the closeted or "safe" experiences (support meetings or friendly night clubs) but a 24/7 embrace with the real world. There is, of course, growth potential in all encounters "safe" or otherwise; but it is the reactions and interactions with the world at large that reflect within us shedding light on the way we feel about ourselves as transgendered beings. Perhaps this is all too obvious to mention. If the reaction is positive then one feels good. If the reaction is negative then that parallel feeling can occur. Since so much of this deals with first or passing visual perception, encounters with the real world may just give one a truer (perhaps sobering) reading on one's presentation. After all, it is the way we look and move as feminine creatures that is often the first goal we strive for. On a higher note, it becomes the vehicle that helps us attain the loftier goal of developing feminine heart in all the warm giving context that implies.

       So it was with little/big Alisa in the land of Monty-Python. After two months in Paris, I popped over to London. Three hours on the "Chunnel" train followed by a short cab ride I arrived at the flat in Bloomsberry that my good friend Jamie Fenton and I had rented for our two week stay. The next day began my second 24/7 London visit in earnest. The first order of business was to acquire a weekly tube pass as Alisa. No problem. I just appeared at the little window as Alisa with a photo, signed the card, had it laminated, and walked away with my pink background-colored rapid transit pass. First use of our new I.D.'s was a beeline straight to Harrods. After a few hours shopping, well really window shopping, it was back to the flat to change for dinner and onto one of the several mid-week transgendered clubs.

       Besides House of Drag every Wednesday night, our first stop, there is Ted's on Thursday nights and Lips at the world famous Philbeach Hotel on Monday nights. Now, girls, these are Mid-week venues totally for the transgendered! Let me say that again, Mid-week.venues,… there's even more on the weekends. On Friday night, not counting special events like Indecent Exposure and Torture Garden (both monthly events with an emphasis on B&D/S&M …a chance to dress absolutely anyway one wishes) There is Stunners and Oasis, both wild, WILD TG clubs to experience. On Saturday night two of the most famous TG clubs (also for friends and admirers) are the Wayout club till 4 AM and Storme's in White Chapel till 2 AM, both very well attended… in fact, packed with sisters the nights we made it. The Wayout club seems to me larger in size with a bigger crowd than even the Queen Mary in Los Angeles. In the course of our two-week stay, Jamie and I visited all the clubs I've mentioned except Torture Garden that was scheduled later in the month. I have also not mentioned the numerous gay and lesbian clubs that one would probably be accepted in. After this visit I now believe London, not L.A. or san Francisco, has more specific transgendered clubs than any other city on this lovely planet earth.

       It was in one of these week night dance venues that Jamie and I met Gillian, a true English dear heart. She was out, wife's away, with one of the many free-lance make-over artists to be found in London. For a fee this very attractive GG supplied the hair, clothing, accessories and expertly applied makeup. The fee also included herself as a guide for the evening to TG friendly places. To someone like Gillian, questioning her inner urges - this becomes the vehicle to experience the experience. Jamie and I got to know her quite well, visiting her home and escorting her to other TG venues later the next week. A non-sister friend once remarked at how lucky I was to be able to tap into this sorority in almost every city of the world. It's true! If the gay and lesbian movement is a nation then we surely are a tribe strong and beautiful.

       Near Euston station with a "Before and After" sign facing the street is Transformations. This is a makeover studio where closeted "newbies" can get transformed by the female staff choosing from a menu of female types. Overpriced but friendly, the fearful can sit for hours and sip tea as their new personas or venture out as some do. There are also rental lockers for those needing them. With lighted Ad posters in the tube lines, this is at least a ten year old for profit, no sex, TG shop well in the mainstream's consciousness. In the mist of their major redecorating project, Jamie and I sat having coffee, chatting with customers and staff. It was decided that neither Jamie nor I needed a makeover! What a relief!

       Given the variety of venues and the civilized polite attitude by the English on the subject, London definitely has a burgeoning subculture for the TG community. Of course the challenge of a 24/7 trip is not only doing the nightlife thing but also experiencing daily encounters as one's transgendered self. For someone like me, over six feet tall and who does not want to tone down her feminine joy by dressing too far down, I turn heads, like it or not. I crossed crowded spaces, rode the public transit several times a day making entrances many, many times, each of which elicited responses by countless people. Sometimes it was a sweet smile (usually from women) and sometimes a smile barely stifling laughter… all of which dissipating within a few minutes as the shock of the new wore off returning most to their daily concerns. All very civilized. On one occasion we were approached by a male who applauded our bravery, then expressed his deepest desire to do the same. What bravery is he talking about? This is absolutely fun!

       In these travels across London I received some of the best compliments that I have ever received; Sweet lovely surprises from complete strangers. Mostly though faces communicated the message "That's a bloke!" over and over again as I visited St. Paul's, several museums, various Pubs, an upscale jazz club, and the Tower of London. I am not surprised or saddened by this for I never really believed in the "passing" concept, at least not for me. I have always imagined myself an exotic stork, a flag bearer with soft feminine feathers. Every appearance made the statement "Yes. There are transgendered people in the world and we walk in strideful pride". I believe the goal is to pass in the inner reaches, this is where the treasure resides.

       Most of us lovingly put together pretty "outfits" but surely the greatest challenge lies in using our minds to tap that feminine source that exists in each one of us. For me the feminine wellspring begins way down at my toes and I mean way down. The joy comes in willing it to flow up through my entire body expressed though movement, gesture and grace surrendering totally to my feminine soul. I admit that it can become a torrent at times, but that's just the girl in me I need to express.

       It seems to me what we all should seek, be it full or part time, is a free flowing unobstructed connection to the feminine source within, I believe this is what the world sees at almost the same instant it perceives our physical shape. Don't underestimate body language!

       "Well, that's all girl!" I actually overheard this from an elderly English man speaking to his wife as we made our way to one of the theater matinees. What I think he was implying in his English phrasing was that he perceived me as male, but that I passed in my total feminine presentation: attitude, movement and detail. At over six feet, I can live with that in a delightful kind of way. Several times I was struck and amazed at how comfortable I felt as London swirled around me. How natural it seemed to luxuriate in my soft, perhaps vulnerable feminine persona as I waited to cross a busy street, the wind playing with the hem of my skirt. How lovely to feel this way as I moved through space upon the most delicate, graceful steps I could conjure up. Not so difficult when one feels that strong connection to ones inner feminine wellspring… All in your mind, they say.

       London 24/7 ended with a dinner at Sarkhel's, reputed to be the best Indian restaurant in London. It was outstanding. The next day, September 10th, I headed home from the U.K., arriving that evening. The next morning I woke up to an America that had changed. Needless to say I was happy to be home safe and sound.