I was born female in the final year of
the 1970s, and by the mid 1980s it as clear that
I was not a girl. I played with boys' toys, wore
boys' clothes and acted like a boy in my games.
Almost all my friends were boys, and I could
think of nothing worse than getting girls'
germs.
I could never understand why girls would want
to play with such things as Barbie dolls and tea
sets. An even stranger concept was that of
wanting to wear a dress. You couldn't climb
trees in a dress, nor swing off the Hills Hoist.
You couldn't ride bikes in a dress, nor
comfortably swing upside down on the monkey
bars. Soldiers in the stories I read never wore
dresses or played with dolls. And cowboys and
pirates certainly never played with tea
sets.
My favourite clothes when I was growing up
were shorts and t-shirts, much to my mother's
frustration. My favourite toys were Matchbox
cars, toy swords and my bike. I loved nothing
better than playing cricket and soccer with the
other boys in the street. When the games turned
rough, I was always in the middle of it.
Pushbike Brandy, tackle Red Rover, wars and
fights, I was involved in them all. I would jump
off the monkey bars onto the trampoline in an
attempt to be a daredevil, and race in street
BMX races to see who had the best bike. I had a
childhood very much like any other boy.
One of my most vivid memories of my early
school years is the day I was caught kissing a
girl in the lunch area. We were playing Catch
and Kiss and as usual I was on the boys' team.
The principal at the time did not share my
belief that I was a boy, and I got Wally (the
wooden spoon). At lunch time, I played marbles
with the boys while the girls played their games
elsewhere in the playground. We were commandos
and superheroes on the adventure playground and
played cricket on the oval. Sometimes we played
Tiggy.
It was a shock to me in Grade Four when my
mid-year report card included that comments that
I should learn to interact more with the girls.
I couldn't understand it. Why did I have to play
with the girls? I couldn't relate to them. They
spoke a different language. Girls didn't talk
about pirates, cowboys and soldiers. They knew
nothing of war and sailing the high seas. Girls
didn't talk about cricket or basketball. They
didn't know who Merv Hughes and Leroy Loggins
were. As far as I was concerned, girls were
boring, foreign and had germs.
During this same period, the boys stopped
allowing me to join their games. I felt my whole
world turn upside down. This feeling didn't go
away until I finally transitioned and physically
became myself. I found myself pushed into the
wilderness. I could no longer play with the
boys, but I certainly wasn't a girl.
I did have one friend in primary school I
could relate to. She was a tomboy. She liked
horses and adventure games. Together we ate our
way through imaginary chocolate walls, ran away
from monsters and explored forbidden castles and
forests. We both read Enid Blyton's books and
dreamed of being members of the Famous Five (of
course, I still believe George has grown up and
started T just like I have).
In Years Six and Seven, we started playing
sport at lunch. We played mixed games of
basketball, soccer, touch and cricket. This
meant that I was able to join my male classmates
in play and found that I was accepted as a
sporting playmate, but still not a boy.
My friend was a year older than me. In Year
Four, she was kept back a year and joined me in
my class. At the same time as she lost contact
with her older friends, I lost my position in
the boys' group. It was a very difficult time
for me when we finished primary school and my
friend grew out of her tomboy phase. It
confirmed what I had known all along, that I was
different.
