|
For the half of the first 25 years of my life, I
lived a lie. Until I was around five years old I
thought boys and girls had completely identical
bodies. Sure, I knew men and women were different.
But children were all the same to me. Some were
girls, some were boys, and I wasn't concerned how
to tell the difference.
Eventually, I realised that adults worked out
the difference based on genital features. I grew up
'the boy' in a family with two sisters. My parents
treated me very differently and separately to my
sisters. Strangers always referred to me as a
boy.
My father was okay with this. I clearly already
understood myself to be a boy (that is, I was not a
girl which my sisters clearly were). Protests by my
mother, to strangers who referred to me as 'your
little boy' just seemed to be one of those
inexplicable things along with many other confusing
things in the world to a five year old.
My sisters had long hair in long plaits and they
were often mistaken for each other. My hair was
always cut short with the buzz cut up the back
which had a nice sharpish feeling to it, while
waiting for my sisters hair-trims to be finished.
For a long time I thought haircuts told adults who
were boys and who were girls. The usual battle over
wearing pants and tee-shirts was a constant drag to
go through - but it wasn't too unbearable at least
up to puberty.
Until the age of thirteen I had a natural and
happy friendship with my father. He often bought me
electronic kits, plastic models of cars and ships
to construct and we often took off alone to fish.
Once away from "Mom and girls" initially we could
celebrate our freedom to be silly, crack rude jokes
and feel unencumbered by their attentions. My
father and I found Mom slightly "harpish" and the
three of them together were shrill and never
pleasantly content with silence.
Around the age of thirteen I was deeply confused
when both my father and my body seemed to conclude
together in a dreadful permanent betrayal.
Overnight, my father distanced completely from me -
shared secrets, silliness and fishing trips were
forever gone.
My body increasingly took on alien female
characteristics - a situation which caused me huge
anxiety. The increasing attention and apparent joy
of my mother increasingly coloured everything with
an horrible madness. What was happening? I must
have missed something. There had to be some piece
of information that everyone else had. It was a
terrible horrible joke at my expense.
I knew this was all so terribly wrong, but
without any recognition of the terror I was
feeling, I went silent. Somehow I knew to keep my
secrets close and continue as best I could until I
found answers.
My parents, already under my suspicion due to
their eccentric and bizarre behaviour, were people
given to faith in God Almighty. Science or answers
outside the family were never contemplated.
Having already spent long hours bargaining
everything my pre-teen mind could possibly offer,
(to wake up one day with a body that meant other
people know I was a boy - please God, please!),
and having had my childish offers fall on Almighty
Deaf Ears so far, I thought my parents could hardly
have anything better to suggest.
I read everything I could find on helping myself
deal with this unusual and insane situation. In
retrospect, I think I went through those stages of
grief over and over and over - they certainly
characterised the next twelve years.
Denial - (maybe I wasn't really a boy at
all) - Anger and resentment (God, my
parents, my own body) - Bargaining (deals to
wake up with the boy body; or deals to be able to
cope with the girl body I apparently was condemned
to live in) - and an overwhelming sense of
Depression. Ultimately there was an
Acceptance of a sort - the sort of
depression/acceptance that faced death calmly. The
end was in sight. I made peace my peace with the
Almighty (who still apparently had) Deaf Ears - and
then waited in silence.
I packed my bags, and cleared out my life.
Marriage, possessions, friends and moved over
2,000kms to be in a large city where no one knew me
and I could literally disappear. I was a cipher in
a big city - and it was comforting, known
territory. I was already invisible.
I can't remember the exact day I knew I'd found
some answers. It was very close to my planned
'exit-day' in June 94. Slowed down by the suicide
of a workmate, I put my exit-plans off by two
months. Somewhere in that time, I'd made contact
with people who were to change my life. By this
stage, because I had abandoned all hope of help, it
took me some time to 'change gears' and consider my
options. I started thinking about having a
future.
I could be visible! I was ecstatic! It wasn't
just a hope or a fanciful dream. Me - visible?
After so long! After more than 12 years of waiting,
hoping, wishing, praying, bargaining and an
increasing sense of despair - it seemed to be all
too easy. I went over the options again and again.
It seemed to me to be an almost elegant solution.
And what's more, I could live - I could have a
great life! I gave myself nearly six months to
think things through very carefully. In early 1995
I started my solo trek to the puberty I longed
for.
The years have gone really fast - and writing
this ten years later, I'm a visible man. Visible to
society, the community I live in - my workmates;
strangers on the street - and the world!
At last, I feel confident saying "when I was a
little boy". At last, I can speak the truth about
myself - "When I was a little boy…" that truth
still fills me great happiness. I'm no longer
concerned with ways to express myself. I'm not
perplexed any more about the way I'm treated by the
people around me. I still don't respond if someone
calls out "Miss…er, Miss…" I don't feel
confused anymore when I look in the mirror - or see
myself in shopfront windows. I'm visible to myself
and visible to the world around me.
At last I'm real. I'm alive. I'm substantial.
I'm recognised for my real self. At last, I know
how it feels to be visible, solid and to show my
real face to the world.
Citation
— Peter. (2005). Finally Visible! Torque,
5(1), February 2005.
|
