For many crossdressers, our femme world exists in the quiet shadows of everyday life. We take care to hide our dresses, our makeup, our wigs—every treasured piece of clothing and identity that helps us feel whole.

We tuck away Davina (or whatever name we call our other self) in drawers, boxes, suitcases under the bed, or wardrobes locked away from curious eyes.

But sometimes, we wonder: Have they seen it? Do they know?

I’ve been crossdressing for years—secretly, quietly, and with more care than I’ve probably ever taken with anything else.

Like many others, I store my female clothes and accessories discreetly, usually out of reach. And while I’ve mastered the art of hiding Davina when family is around, one thought occasionally lingers in the back of my mind: What if they’ve stumbled across something?

My kids once admitted to searching for Christmas presents—snooping around like kids do, full of innocent curiosity. It made me wonder… What else have they seen? The wigs? The lingerie? The breast forms or makeup kits stashed at the back of the wardrobe?

It’s entirely possible they’ve come across something they didn’t expect. But would they assume it was mine?

That’s the strange protection many of us live under—the illusion of “he would never.” Because in our daily lives, we’re husbands, fathers, professionals, so-called alpha males. We play roles expected of us. And because of that, we often fly under the radar. If someone does find a pair of high heels or a silky negligee hidden away, the mind jumps to any explanation but the truth.

Still, the question lingers. There’s a strange excitement in hiding, in nearly being caught. That adrenaline rush the moment you hear a key in the door, and you’re still half made-up. The close calls where you answer the door in a robe, knowing what you’re wearing underneath. The whispered hope that your secret is safe, mixed with the fantasy of what it might feel like if it weren’t.

But this secrecy also weighs heavy. As much as I love being Davina, there’s always a wall between her and the rest of my life. She exists in the quiet moments I steal away, in hotel rooms during business trips, in the few hours I sometimes get alone at home. She lives in hiding, behind closet doors and zipped-up bags.

And yet, sometimes I wonder: Would it really be so terrible if someone knew? What if they already suspect? Would they understand, even a little?

For now, Davina remains my private world. A world of perfume, heels, and the swish of a dress. But maybe one day, that world won’t have to be quite so hidden.

Until then, I’ll keep her safe. And maybe… just maybe… my family will continue believing I’m the last person they’d ever expect to be a crossdresser.

Davina