3 Tgirls out shopping

Last weekend in Cardiff, I had one of those small, quiet moments that stays with you longer than you expect.

I was there with my wife and my youngest, wandering through a busy shop. Nothing unusual. Just a normal day out. But as we turned a corner near the makeup section, three very tall women came into view.

They stood out, partly because of their height, all easily over six foot, but also because of subtle things you don’t immediately put into words.

After we passed them, my wife asked quietly, “Was that a man?”

I paused, then said, “There were three trans women back there, yeah.”

Even writing that now feels clumsy.

There’s always that tension between describing what you saw and not wanting to reduce people to observations. But I’ll keep going,

because the moment itself matters more than getting every word perfect.

Each of them had a different presence.

One was dressed casually, just doing her thing.

Another had a big, open smile, looked genuinely happy, the kind of expression that draws your eye for all the right reasons.

The third had a stronger build, visible tattoos, and presented less traditionally feminine than the others.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth,

I noticed those differences.

The same way, earlier that day, I’d noticed cis women who didn’t neatly fit expectations either.

It’s not a trans thing. It’s a human thing.

We all scan, interpret, question, whether we admit it or not. "People watching"

But what really stood out wasn’t any one of them individually. It was the group.

As a trio, they became more visible.

More noticeable. My wife clocked one, and that drew attention, mine included, to the others. It wasn’t deliberate. It just… happened.

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting outside, waiting.

One of those rare, perfect pauses, warm sun, a bench, nothing urgent to do. Just watching people pass by.

And I caught myself hoping they might come out the front of the shop. Maybe sit nearby.

And then a thought formed.. what would I say if they did?

Nothing intrusive. Nothing strange. Just something simple: “Hi. I just wanted to say I admire what you’re doing. I’m Davina sometimes.”

That was the thought. And immediately after it came another:

Would that actually be welcome?

Because context changes everything.

In my head, there’s a sense of kinship.

A quiet recognition.

If you exist anywhere on this spectrum, trans, part-time, crossdresser, somewhere in between you feel it sometimes.

Especially in safe spaces. Online. In forums. In chat rooms where everyone understands the unspoken.

But out in the real world?

They weren’t “three trans women” in that moment. They were just three women, out shopping, living their lives. Being visible, yes but not inviting commentary.

Not asking to be recognised.

And that’s the part that stopped me.

Because what feels like connection from one side might feel like exposure from the other.

Later, I asked the question online—should I have said hello?

The overwhelming answer was No!

Some said it could come across as intrusive.

Others said it might make them feel “read,” which could be uncomfortable or even unsettling and I get that.

But part of me still wonders.

Because if I were out as Davina, and someone approached me gently, respectfully—“Hi, Davina, isn’t it?” I think I’d welcome it. I think I’d feel seen in a good way.

Maybe that just says more about where I am and how I am.

Because the truth is, I’m still navigating that space.

Davina exists. She’s real. But she isn’t always visible.

She exists in photos, carefully taken, angles considered, lighting right.

In those moments, I can look at myself and think, yes… that works. That version of me feels complete.

But sitting there that day.. rainers, jeans, F1 t-shirt, cap, unshaved.. I was miles away from her.

And watching those three women shifted something in how I think.

I’ve spent a lot of time asking: “Would I pass?” “Would people read me?” “Would I be convincing?”

But the better question—the more honest one is: “Would I be okay being seen?”

Because passing isn’t a finish line. It’s not binary. It’s not something you either achieve perfectly or fail at completely.

Even the two who blended more easily would, at some point, be read by someone.

That’s just reality.

And yet they were still there.

Not hiding. Not waiting for perfection.

Not trying to control every angle or every glance.

Just existing, just shopping..

And that’s what stayed with me most.

It wasn’t just individual confidence.

It felt shared. Strength in numbers. A kind of quiet solidarity that made being visible a little easier, a little safer, a little more normal.

I don’t know if I’ll ever step into that space myself. If I do, it will probably be with my wife, in a context that feels safe, controlled, familiar.

But that moment, watching them made something clearer.

This isn’t really about perfect presentation.

It’s about acceptance. Of being seen. Of being read. Of existing anyway.

They probably have no idea they left an impression.

But they did.

Not because of how they looked.

But because of what they represented.

Davina