Compliments – There’s More Them Than Meets The Eye

As CDers, we often look for affirmation from others and I’ve certainly fished hard for compliments in years gone by.  I’ve posted photos of myself on Flickr in the hope that my ‘adoring fans’ would tell me how gorgeous I looked or how I was born to be a woman.  And just to make sure, I saw nothing wrong with a spot of post-processing in FaceApp just to take off the rough edges (of which there were many) and present myself in the best possible light.  And it did work, at least to a point.  I built up around 1000 followers and life was fine & dandy until one day it wasn’t. The expected compliments (yes, I’d got so used to getting them that it just seemed a given by that stage) didn’t materialise and I was absolutely devastated.

The problem, of course, was that those compliments were insincere from a biased community who were either not averse to a spot of CDing themselves or were attracted in some way to those who did.  A particularly nice comment I once received from one CDer quickly lost its edge when I noted exactly the same comment had been pasted into several others’ posts that day.  I also realised that a compliment on any image I posted that had been tidied up in FaceApp should really be directed to FaceApp’s creators, not me and realised that fishing for compliments was ultimately a fruitless, if not destructive exercise.  So I stopped worrying about what others think and concentrated on my own fulfilment.

But I don’t mind admitting that I still yearned for compliments, particularly reading the daily posts on Kandi’s Land where it appeared that others were regularly receiving them, not from the biased CD/admirer community but from random people when out and about.  And these were not gushing compliments of the type I used to get on Flickr but just throwaway compliments about a nice dress, cute pair of shoes or things like that.  And in 2025, it finally happened to me.  Not one, not two but three compliments from three different people I’d never met and, in all probability, will never see again:

– ‘I like your boots’
– ‘you do look amazing’
– ‘I love your red nail colour’

Nothing, sadly, about how I could easily be mistaken for Helen of Troy’s twin sister but I’ll take whatever I can!

My last comment was tongue in cheek of course because the truth is that after receiving each one of those, I was on cloud nine.  In simplistic terms, I do rather like my boots, I was particularly pleased with how I’d put together the outfit that attracted the ‘amazing’ compliment and the nails were a distinct improvement from the disgraceful state my natural nails are in.  But it wasn’t just that that made my day.  Read between the lines and there’s far more to savour.

The fact of the matter is I don’t pass.  I may be lucky to get a photograph that was taken with exactly the right lighting and from exactly the right angle to portray me in a flattering way but the reality is very different.  No one who sees me at close quarters, let alone talks to me, will be in any doubt about my chromosomes.  The only element of doubt may be the extent to which I have moved along the trans continuum – they will have no idea whether I’m a full time transitioner, a one time CDer or somewhere in between.  But that’s irrelevant here because the fact of the matter is that I put a lot of effort into transforming myself into the best portrayal of womanhood possible.

Maybe I fail in that quest and the compliments about my boots and nails were made purely and simply because the givers couldn’t find anything else in my presentation that was worthy of positive comment.  Oh well, at least I have the ‘amazing’ compliment.  Unless of course, what she meant to say was ‘you do look amazing considering you’re a guy underneath’.  But perversely, if that was really what she meant, I’m rather flattered.

Whilst my corporate days are now nearly two decades behind me, one thing I remember is the propensity my female colleagues had to pay each other compliments.  On one particularly memorable occasion, a colleague who sat opposite me had had a particularly unfortunate experience at the hairdressers which left her with a fringe halfway up her forehead.  She was devastated and with good reason; it looked like one of those cuts that the class ‘weird kid’ had in primary school!  However, once word got around, a procession of her female peers arrived at her desk to gush about how amazing her hair looked – I don’t want to sound cruel but ‘amazing’ or any other synonym were not words that sprung to my mind and the only thing I could think of saying was to reassure her that it would grow back!  

So that begs the question as to why her colleagues were making comments that were obviously so wide of the mark?  I’m no anthropologist and this is purely from my own observations but women seem to be compassionate by nature and I think that’s hardwired into them in the same way that their maternal instincts are.  The gushing compliments about my hapless colleague’s new ‘hairstyle’ were not driven by any admiration for the look itself but, instead, to show solidarity.

But suppose my colleague had been a guy.  Now, there’s nothing we loved more than to see one of our male colleagues turn up at work after an ill-fated trip to the barbers.  Tears of laughter would be streaming down our faces as we turned up the mickey taking to 11.  But where were the women then?  Some would be joining in the mirth, others would be keeping quiet.  Few, if any, would be coming up to console him and none would tell him how amazing his new cut looked, not least as a woman positively commenting about a man’s appearance (or vice versa) comes dangerously close to the area where comments or their motives can be misinterpreted.

And that brings me back to my three compliments.  The comments about my boots and my outfit came from waitresses; would they have similarly commented on my clothing or appearance had I turned up in my normal guise, even if, for once, I’d made an effort to look half decent?  Probably not.  And would the lady on the till in a gift shop who praised my nail colour have said similar if my guy nails had been similarly coloured?  Possibly but perhaps motivated by curiosity about the apparent jarring between the rest of my presentation and my nails and hope that I would explain why a seemingly normal guy would paint his nails that colour.

That’s all very well but I’ve already declared that there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that underneath the (hopefully) feminine exterior, I’m male so doesn’t that make the logic break down?  These were not woman to woman interactions but quite obviously woman to man. But, paradoxically, it’s that very point that makes me treasure the memories of these compliments so much.

Because when the first waitress said that she liked my boots, it was irrelevant whether or not she liked them.  In fact, I’d also suggest that if I had been obviously female, she may well not have made any comment about them at all.  What I believe she was saying, and this was borne out when we briefly chatted before I left, was that she knew my secret and was fine with it.  And the waitress who told me that I looked amazing – again, not a comment she could possibly have made to a male diner so again I sensed acceptance. Even the gift shop lady who focussed on my nails didn’t have to say anything but the mere fact that she did suggests a subliminal message which, if I’m correct in my supposition, was received loud and clear.

If I was a ‘glass half empty’ sort of person, this is the point at which I’d lament that the only reason I was on the receiving end of those nice comments was because I’m a CDing guy and they were just looking to burnish their social justice credentials.  Or if I was delusional, I’d start gushing about how I passed so well that others couldn’t resist praising me.  But I like to think it was each of them saying ‘I know you’re a guy but you’ve done enough to gain my approval.   And, in fact, that’s the best accolade that most of us could ever wish for – unsolicited without any need for us to have declared our pronouns, corrected misgendering or anything else that has tarnished our collective reputation in recent years.

And because of that, it’s not just direct compliments that convey that message.  A ‘how are you today?’ from a barista or sales assistant or even just a spontaneous smile from someone in the crowd say exactly the same thing – acceptance for who we are, however others want to view us.

And that to me is one of the most wonderful highs of being able to express this side of me, a side I had to keep hidden for so long. It’s a sign of connection that goes way beyond the words actually spoken.  It’s a sign of acceptance of who we actually are.  It’s a sign of encouragement to be ourselves.  It’s a sign that the effort that we put into conforming to society’s expectations has paid off.  And it’s a sign that despite everything, we have allies in the world.

As I said at the outset, I’ve long since given up fishing for compliments.  I don’t know when the next one will come my way, if ever, but if I am lucky enough to be on the receiving end of a nice comment, I’ll once again smile and thank the giver for making my day special.  Because that simple comment will be all the proof I need that my hard work has paid off.