Previously on I WAS BORN THIS WAY:
My earliest memories involve thinking I was a girl. Sometimes the answer to prayer is a big fat NO. I was accepted into the realm of the girls in school. I was the go between. Something was wrong. Christian school. Spanked for laughing. Dressed in full feminine attire at school. My mother was pissed and would never accept, nor tolerate.
Knowing that my mother would in no way accept her son as her daughter, I buried myself in reading, music and art….the very dark side of each. I was so Sith, baby, and I didn’t even know it.
Despite being totally and completely accepted into the world of girls at the christian school, I still couldn’t bring myself to let them in on my secret. After much thought, I decided I could tell my best friend, in a “dare” kind of way. I was to stay over at his house and I made a bet (which I knew I would lose), that if I lost (wink) I would have to wear hose under my pants and boots to church that evening. Of course, as it was set up, I lost the bet.
JENN’S NOTE: As I was writing, this next part came flowing out. I was going to omit it but then decided it’s part of the story and kept it in.
When I showed up at church that evening, we went in to the restroom and I pulled my pants up to show the smooth, silken covered legs that lied beneath. He was rather excited to see this, not thinking I would actually go through with it, and informed me that we would have a great time at the sleep over. Not knowing exactly what was meant by this statement, I sat with much an-tici—–pation through the evenings church service.
When we arrived back at their house, we played games (he had Coleco vision man!) and waited for his parents to go to bed. They finally did. Upon their evenings retiring, I rolled my pant legs up above the knee and we continued to play the games we had started. After about an hour, he confided in me that he would sometimes wear his sisters’ clothes. This shocked me. It meant I wasn’t alone and I was overjoyed.
We went in and began rifling through his sisters clothes. He put on a couple things and brought me a complete ensemble to put on. I was thrilled to get to dress up and be accepted by someone close to me. I immediately began to put on all the articles of clothing that lay before me. I came out of the bathroom, dressed completely female. Feeling great. We sat down to finish our gaming when he decided to make his move.
He moved over closer to me and began to talk. Began to ask what it felt like. What made me do this. My reply, and the first time I had said this to anyone, “I don’t know. I was born this way.” I went on to tell him my entire story. All my feelings and emotions. My desire to be a girl. I felt so empowered and free to finally tell someone. He held my hand and a rush went through me like never before. THIS must be what it feels like for a girl. THIS was what I was longing to have. (I didn’t really like him in that way, but a best friend is the closest thing that a guy has to a lover if he has not figured out whether he is gay.) THIS lasted but a fleeting moment.
As we sat and no longer played video games, he moved even closer. He put his arm around me and said we should move to the couch. Once there he began to lightly rub my leg (which felt amazing) and try his naive way of “sweet talk” to me. NOT WORKING! I realized he wanted a little (ok a LOT) more than I was wishing for, even though it felt so right to be admired this way. I tried to move away, but he was stronger than me. He wouldn’t let me go. By this point he was almost on top of me, kissing (really just making a slobbery mess) on my neck and ear. I quietly said I was going to scream if he did not get off of me, to which he called my bluff. I was totally dressed an made up like a girl and did not want his parents seeing me this way. He pushed me back and climbed on top of me. EWWWW, he was totally excited and this was not a good feeling for me. He was telling me I looked really good as a girl and that he thought I was very pretty. Like that was supposed to make everything ok. He went in for the kiss and I turned my head and managed to push him off me a bit, which did not work as greatly as I would have liked. It was enough room for him to flip me over. He was pissed.
This next part could have been a whole lot worse than it was, but it was still bad. He was laying one me and I was unable to move. Somehow he had managed to flip me and pin me with my arms pinned under me. My face was buried in a pillow until I could manage to slide it around and get it free. “Please don’t do this”, I begged. “We can kiss. You just caught me off guard.” His reply was a forceful push on my head, burying it back in the pillow. He was now beginning to clumsily move his body on top of mine and I could completely feel his excitement through his pants and my skirt. I pointed out that he didn’t want to do this and that he would ruin his sister’s clothes. He paused. Put his hand over my mouth and said, “Yes I do”.
I was scared to death. My image of what was going to happen was horrific. With what seemed to be one, swift motion, the skirt was up, the hose were down, as were his pants. What then seemed like an eternity, I found him on top of me once more, this time the only barrier being our underwear. I guess he had limits. I was thrilled at this revelation. With my face buried once again in the pillow, I could feel him moving back and forth (and all other sorts of directions, as he had no idea what he was doing). I was crying. Although this was something I had imagined in the very back of my mind for quite some time, this was not the way it was supposed to happen. When he finally climaxed, I was just thankful it was over and that it hadn’t gone, physically, further than it did. When he was finished, I was in a state of shock. I couldn’t move.
I wiped the tears from my eyes and slowly gathered my composure. As I sat there, he moved in for a kiss, to which I immediately put a stop. I told him I was going to tell and that he was going to be in serious trouble. He said I wouldn’t because I wouldn’t want anyone to know what I did and that disclosing my own secret is the only way to get him in trouble. He convinced me that I would be the one to blame in this situation. I did not want anyone else to know and he knew that.
I got cleaned up and went to bed. That was the end of the friendship between my best friend and me. I never told anyone. You are the first ones to know.
Sorry about that horrid digression, back to task.
I had tried to come up with some innocently devious ways to get my parents to buy me girl’s clothes for my birthday/Christmas. I sat, for hours, and knew just how to open the Christmas catalogs to the cutest outfits ever. Thinking that I could say that I just wanted them to buy me whatever I opened the catalog to, with my eyes closed, no matter what it was. See? Then it would be purely fate and they would have to get it. If they bought it I would have to wear it. If I wore it, they would have to accept it, and, therefore, me. This never actually came to fruition.
In high school, I buried my secret more than once. I purged my clothes, the few I had, and settled in to a very male centered persona. I was able to stay in that mode for about a year. Buying and purging happened a couple times through high school. It was an expensive lesson to lear. As that year went by, I could feel the female in me climbing her way back up. When I ended up with a very good girl friend. We would hang out all the time and everyone at school assumed we were dating. One day, out of the blue, she said that she knew I was different and wondered if she and her friend could dress me up and do my makeup. When I agreed, she was a little taken aback. She didn’t really think I would go for it, although I seemed very feminine. She asked why I would agree to this and I told her. I felt that she could actually handle knowing and keeping my secret. She asked why I did this. Again came the answer, “I was born this way.”
We had a great friendship that was consistently mistaken for dating. Even now, people from school ask if we got married. Funny. I guess we made a good couple.
Throughout college there would be girls that knew my other side. A couple guys, one boyfriend. It started my coming out. The one thing that changed it all and started bringing me out of the closet, will be discussed in a later blog.
As my life leads to transition, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was, indeed, born this way. I have never been able to explain it away, like so many of my sisters try to do. I have embraced who I am and who I am meant to be. I do not regret anything in my past, with the exception of taking SO long to accepting my true self. My past has made me who I am, no matter how awful the situation. I have made it through with a tougher skin and a better way of adapting. I am who I am, and I am beautiful, despite my scars.