Yesterday afternoon in a fit of frustration I typed some words in a post on Facebook in which I probably should have shown a bit of restraint; but I didn’t and the sentence was punctuated with “There, I’m out, okay?”
Seems the cat and I are both out, so here we go.
My earliest memory of crossdressing isn’t even a crossdressing memory as such; it’s tactile responses to fabrics, olfactory responses to smells… these things just felt right to me; I knew from day one that I was supposed to be wearing dresses and sleeping in a nightgown. I didn’t just want it, I knew it was right for me at my very core. My family however did not agree with me.
As a boy I was supposed to learn to be a boy. I was to wear jeans and play outside in the dirt with tractors and learn to spit and play with dead birds…. I really wanted to be next door with my friend Jenny playing Barbies but apparently boys don’t play with Barbies so I didn’t play. I stayed in my bedroom and drew on the walls, listened to shortwave radio and wished I was playing with Barbies. I watched Jenny and I grow apart and one day she stopped being my friend because “I was a boy now”.
Every time I was found with an item of “girl’s” clothing I was spanked, but one instance in particular stands out. My father caught me wearing a pair of underwear that was apparently not suitable. All I really remember is being on the bed as he was almost flailing and hitting me and screaming “You are not a girl!!!!” I managed to whimper, “I know I’m not!” and he stopped immediately and left the room.
I think in that moment he realized that this was truly who and what I was and he wasn’t going to be able to hit it out of me.
He never spanked me after that and when I was a teenager he became the only member of my family to support me. I know he never understood fully what drove me, but he understood it was real and meant more to me than I had ever been able to tell anyone.
However, this went way beyond clothes; they were just the one thing I associated with how I felt inside so they became the one thing I could use to show the world how I felt… I knew those things were supposed to be mine, yet they kept trying to force me into the uncomfortable things that boys wore and kept trying to fit me into that mold yet I kept popping out more fabulous than before.
I learned to shave my legs and my armpits before I knew how to shave my face. I knew how to apply makeup properly and I watched fashion trends. I knew I couldn’t be friends with boys so I tried to have female friends at school, but even they wouldn’t accept me into their circles. I didn’t have anyone I could relate to at all….. this is why I was always alone, by the way.
Surely my family must have supported me and helped me cope with these pressures though, right?
Not even a little bit; the actions my family took through their fear and unwillingness to accept me drove me into a very gender dysphoric state and on two instances I tried to remove my penis. I failed miserably both times.
I didn’t do this because I thought I was in the wrong body however; No, I wanted to be a girl so I could wear the clothes I knew I was supposed to be wearing and still have my mother like me. I just wanted my mom to like me…
I figured if I was a girl she would like me like she did my sister and we could all be happy; but I wasn’t, she didn’t, and we weren’t.
Let me answer the usual questions.
1. Are you gay? Well, yes and no. I am a pretty committed lesbian living in this body, so maybe. :)
2. Are you going to transition?? The long and short answer is no.
I have accepted the male body I was born into but I have also accepted that I have a wonderfully female brain.
30 years ago that answer would have probably been very different, but I didn’t have a family that would have bothered supporting me with something like this and it’s not what this is about.
I’m still exactly who I was yesterday and who I will be tomorrow. I’ve just started letting people know who that really is and I hope you’ll all travel with me, but if not I fully understand.