My transition effectively began five years ago, but as we established in the last post, this was not the point at which I "became" transgender. In fact, using the word transition is somewhat problematic, for it implies that I have become something other than what I was, when in fact I have simply stopped playing the male role for which I was conditioned all my life and "transitioned" to an authentic expression of who I am. In so far as it is a transition, it's not complete, and I don't know if it ever will be. Do we ever stop becoming?
As I share my story with you, I will of necessity intersect with the stories of others who have been part of my life. It is not my place or my desire to tell their stories and what I share is entirely from my perspective. Out of respect for them I will not give real names. If you know me you will probably know about whom I am writing and you are welcome to contact them if you want to know their part of the story. Keep in mind though that they may not want or be ready to share their story, just because I am sharing mine. I have, unfortunately, hurt some people in my journey and this I grieve deeply. I probably could have done things better, but making a transition such as this is inherently difficult and causes deep hurts, both to those who love you and to yourself as a transgender person. I wish the world were not so.
I grew up in a fairly typical, white middle-class suburban family. I did not have a traumatic childhood. My parents loved me consistently and thoroughly. They provided for my basic needs, though I by no means had everything given to me that I wanted. I did not "become" (here that fallacy again!) transgender in reaction to some trauma, violence, neglect or abuse in my life. I probably couldn't have had a much more mundane, wholesome upbringing. We were a church-going family. Every Sunday found us in church and, when I was in elementary, Wednesday night was always AWANA club, to which I would rush straight from soccer practice. Later in my teenager years I was a regular at youth group and I still have amazingly positive memories of that. I did well in school, had a good set of friendships, struggled quite a bit at dating and an enormous amount with affirming my self worth. I never felt truly comfortable with who I was.
Looking back I can recall many episodes in which I longed to be one of the girls. It wasn't just that I wanted to be able to play with them as a boy, but that I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be able to enter their world alongside them and experience life as they did. Cisgender women reading this may wonder how anyone could wish for that, but if so that's because you see the experience through a much different lens than I did. I would borrow my sister's dolls and play with them, and I would look at girl's dresses and other clothing and imagine what it would be like to wear it.
Throughout my school years and into my adult life my closest friends were always girls and later women. While I could play with the boys and had many friends who were boys, they were never the ones I most wanted to hang out with. I enjoyed being with girls at the age when it was absolutely uncool for a boy to do that. At my birthday party in third grade all of my guests were girls. At the time I received a lot of grief for this, because it was viewed as a bit odd.
I didn't realize at the time that this longing for connection with other girls arose out of my own internal identification as one of them. I couldn't have expressed it in that way because I couldn't have imagined that this was possible. It's very difficult if not impossible to imagine that something is possible which is never presented to you as possible or acceptable. In the society and culture in which I grew up there was no mention of being transgender. I cannot say that I heard messages against this in church because it wasn't even a topic of discussion, though I can hardly imagine the response I might have received had I even ventured to express such an inclination. I'm sure I would have been referred for therapy.
Had I been born in the last five to ten years and not in the era I was, I would hope that my gender dysphoria (the medical term for having a disconnect between one's biological sex and one's gender identification) would be recognized early in life and I would have the opportunity to transition as a child. Unfortunately such was not my fate, so I learned to play the role of a male, and did so pretty well, though I always felt like I didn't really fit as a typical male. I did not speak of my struggles or my questions with anyone and most of the time did not really acknowledge them myself. I assumed that my struggles with my identity were a result of my own sinfulness (being a devout Christian) or inadequacy and I learned really well how to hide the shame I felt.
For the sake of length I'll leave my story here for now and continue in my next post.
As I share my story with you, I will of necessity intersect with the stories of others who have been part of my life. It is not my place or my desire to tell their stories and what I share is entirely from my perspective. Out of respect for them I will not give real names. If you know me you will probably know about whom I am writing and you are welcome to contact them if you want to know their part of the story. Keep in mind though that they may not want or be ready to share their story, just because I am sharing mine. I have, unfortunately, hurt some people in my journey and this I grieve deeply. I probably could have done things better, but making a transition such as this is inherently difficult and causes deep hurts, both to those who love you and to yourself as a transgender person. I wish the world were not so.
I grew up in a fairly typical, white middle-class suburban family. I did not have a traumatic childhood. My parents loved me consistently and thoroughly. They provided for my basic needs, though I by no means had everything given to me that I wanted. I did not "become" (here that fallacy again!) transgender in reaction to some trauma, violence, neglect or abuse in my life. I probably couldn't have had a much more mundane, wholesome upbringing. We were a church-going family. Every Sunday found us in church and, when I was in elementary, Wednesday night was always AWANA club, to which I would rush straight from soccer practice. Later in my teenager years I was a regular at youth group and I still have amazingly positive memories of that. I did well in school, had a good set of friendships, struggled quite a bit at dating and an enormous amount with affirming my self worth. I never felt truly comfortable with who I was.
Looking back I can recall many episodes in which I longed to be one of the girls. It wasn't just that I wanted to be able to play with them as a boy, but that I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be able to enter their world alongside them and experience life as they did. Cisgender women reading this may wonder how anyone could wish for that, but if so that's because you see the experience through a much different lens than I did. I would borrow my sister's dolls and play with them, and I would look at girl's dresses and other clothing and imagine what it would be like to wear it.
Throughout my school years and into my adult life my closest friends were always girls and later women. While I could play with the boys and had many friends who were boys, they were never the ones I most wanted to hang out with. I enjoyed being with girls at the age when it was absolutely uncool for a boy to do that. At my birthday party in third grade all of my guests were girls. At the time I received a lot of grief for this, because it was viewed as a bit odd.
I didn't realize at the time that this longing for connection with other girls arose out of my own internal identification as one of them. I couldn't have expressed it in that way because I couldn't have imagined that this was possible. It's very difficult if not impossible to imagine that something is possible which is never presented to you as possible or acceptable. In the society and culture in which I grew up there was no mention of being transgender. I cannot say that I heard messages against this in church because it wasn't even a topic of discussion, though I can hardly imagine the response I might have received had I even ventured to express such an inclination. I'm sure I would have been referred for therapy.
Had I been born in the last five to ten years and not in the era I was, I would hope that my gender dysphoria (the medical term for having a disconnect between one's biological sex and one's gender identification) would be recognized early in life and I would have the opportunity to transition as a child. Unfortunately such was not my fate, so I learned to play the role of a male, and did so pretty well, though I always felt like I didn't really fit as a typical male. I did not speak of my struggles or my questions with anyone and most of the time did not really acknowledge them myself. I assumed that my struggles with my identity were a result of my own sinfulness (being a devout Christian) or inadequacy and I learned really well how to hide the shame I felt.
For the sake of length I'll leave my story here for now and continue in my next post.
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