"Out of the Shadows: Crossdressing and the Modern Workplace"

In today’s working world, we often hear the terms “diversity” and “inclusion” spoken with pride. Policies are increasingly in place for LGBTQ+ staff, including protections and support for transgender employees. And yet, for many crossdressers, the workplace can still feel like walking a tightrope—unsure where we fit, uncertain if we’re truly included.

As a crossdresser, I’ve often wondered how my workplace would react if they knew that outside of office hours, I express a deeply personal, feminine side of myself. I’m a husband, a dad, a professional—but I’m also Davina. And while my identity as a man remains constant, crossdressing allows me a form of emotional release, expression, and authenticity that’s just as real and important.

But there’s no policy for me.

I don’t identify as fully trans i'm not transexual which is covered in our work HR documents.

I don’t wish to transition. I’m not trying to redefine my gender, only to express another side of it. And yet, this nuance—this very real and valid form of self-expression—often sits in a blind spot in diversity frameworks.

I’ve scoured company documents and HR portals. There's plenty of information for trans inclusion, which is amazing and vital, but crossdressing? Silence.

My wife worries what would happen if work ever found out. Would colleagues whisper? Would management question my professionalism? Would clients see me differently? These are uncomfortable questions with no clear answers. The fear isn’t just of judgment—it’s of misunderstanding. That people might assume this expression is sexual, deceptive, or inappropriate, rather than seeing it for what it is: an emotional truth, a creative outlet, a deeply personal journey.

The irony is that companies want their employees to bring their “whole selves” to work—but only if that “whole self” fits comfortably within understood boxes. And yet, it’s not always about coming to work in a dress. Sometimes it’s just about knowing that if someone did find out, they’d still see the full, capable, valuable person behind the clothes.

I don’t need to come to work as Davina. But I want to know that, if the line ever blurred—if someone found a blog, saw a photo, or put two and two together—I’d still be respected. That’s what inclusion should mean.

Maybe one day, crossdressing won’t be something whispered about behind closed doors, or feared like a secret that could ruin everything. Maybe one day, it will be seen for what it is: a piece of who we are, worthy of the same understanding and space as any other expression of self.

Until then, I keep Davina close, even in the workplace—quietly confident, just beneath the surface.

Davina