#Growing up trans how to

#Growing up trans how to

I was constantly unsure and confused about how to express who I was. “If you could run away, would you do it?” he asked. One day, In between smoking stolen parliament cigarettes and sipping his grandparents liquor he asked a question. My best friend at the time was well aware of my closeted identity. I obsessed over David Bowie and Kurt Cobain admiring they’re ability to blur the lines of gender norms. My hair was frequently long, and I would often wear girls jeans or t-shirts. “Because my Dad says it’s wrong.” I said.īy the time I was in High School most of trans idiosyncrasies were embedded in my personality. I thought for a moment, scared to be honest about something I knew so little about. He then asked if I had talked to my parents about it. I told him I didn’t really know, but that I wondered what it would be like to be a girl. When the doctor returned he asked me to again describe the way I felt. Before leaving the room, I made her promise not to tell my Dad and she nodded. I told her I was scared and that my Dad didn’t like when I talked about it. Then she asked if I wanted the doctor to talk to my Dad about it and I shook my head “No!” furiously. She then asked if I wanted her to tell the doctor, and I nodded “Yeah”. She smiled and told me some people are just different, and that it was OK. I didn’t know how to describe it but I sheepishly responded “Sometimes I just… feel like a girl”. She gave me a sympathetic look and asked, “What do you mean?”. I told her I didn’t always like being who I was. She had a much different demeanor then the doctor, and I felt like this was my chance.

A nurse then came into the room and began taking my blood pressure. My dad left, and after asking a few more questions the doctor left as well. “Ready to have your check-up, sport?” he said. After a long animated conversation between the two, the doctor looked at me and smiled. It seemed like they were diagnosing my problem without even consulting me as they conversed back and forth. He theorized I was suffering from anxiety and proceeded to explain my odd behavior to the doctor. I was frequently isolated and quiet, sometimes even just straight up ignoring people if they asked me things. My father decided it was time to see a doctor. I told him I was nervous and scared to interact with other kids (which technically was true). I tugged and pulled so much on my clothes my Dad began to question what was going on. I refused to get a haircut and the awkward bowl cut my mom had given me began to grow out haphazardly and unevenly. I refused to wear shorts, even during the summer. She laughed, and said “Well I don’t care but your Dad would be pretty upset”. I was lying, but I figured it would be a good gauge as to whether they had come around on the subject. I began to ask my mom what would happen if I liked boys instead of girls. I did this for a few years hoping that somehow someone would notice and force the conversation. I was still raiding my mom’s closet, except this time I would (uncomfortably) wear whatever fit under my boy clothes. In seeing Trans people ridiculed on shows like Jerry Springer I assumed the whole world viewed them in the same light my father had. The feelings only began to get more and more complicated. I remember looking at my Mom wondering why she wasn’t stopping him but all she did was turn her head. He grabbed me a started slapping me, repeating “You are a man, not a woman!” over and over again. He was absolutely furious and started screaming saying what I had done was wrong. I can only assume she thought it would be a cute story to tell, because if she had known how he’d react I doubt she would of outed me. When my Dad got home later that evening my Mom told him what I had done. Thinking I had done something wrong, I told her “I was trying to be like the girl on TV…”. When she found me she laughed and asked what I was doing. She called my name looking for me, and in a panic I darted under the bed. It wasn’t long before my mom noticed I was gone. I grabbed a black dress from my mother’s closet and began jumping up and down on the bed. I ran to my parents bedroom afterwards mischievously wanting to recreate what I had just seen. She frantically and manically moved about, smiling and getting a little slapstick.

I watched as a woman danced while a man played a grand piano next to her. My mom was preparing dinner and left me to watch TV.