Transsexual identity development - a case study

[Danya]

I will continue to post to my thread discussing my transition from male to female. Lately, though, I feel like I have less to write about there. The excitement of the first few weeks of transitioning is over. I remain very happy and calm. I remain surprised that I have arrived at this wonderful place in my life. Even now, about six weeks after my transition at work, I get occasional comments about how happy I am compared to the way I used to be as that other, male person I was.

Jesus made the suggestion that I start a new thread describing my childhood identity development as 'not male'. Back when I was a kid, I thought of it more as 'I am not a boy'. Jesus pointed out, and he is absolutely correct on this, that I have never stated that as I child I felt that I was really a girl. I have written about some of my childhood feelings and experiences in blog postings and elsewhere.

What was going on in my life as a child that might indicate that I was a developing transsexual, which is different from 'not male'? Male to female transsexuals are 'not male but female'. From extensive research and reading, I can look back at my childhood and identify patterns of behavior that easily fit the MtF identity. There are many transsexuals who never clearly understand their gender identity as children.

It won't be possible for me to limit my writing to my childhood if my goal is to trace my development to where I am today. I did not identify, consciously, as female even at the end of childhood. My understanding of who I am, my 'true self', has evolved over many years. Part of the process has been letting go of a constructed identity I used to make it through life as a male when I knew with certainty that identity did not fit.

I hope, then, this thread will be a place for me to discuss my life as it relates to the development and understanding of my gender identity. Along the way, I may wander from that path and even get lost now and then!

Ideally, I want to cite references in my posts that are pertinent to transsexual development. I may not have the time to do that consistently.

With a scientific education and research experience, this kind of writing appeals to me and I really enjoy it. My science background explains the thread title. That background is in what some would refer to as 'hard science', not meaning difficult but perhaps describing areas more amenable to controlled experimentation. My studies and work experience were in evolutionary biology and chemistry. This is my first attempt at a social science type of analysis. The more I read about sociology, psychology and anthropology the more fascinated I become.

At its best, this thread has the potential of being a case study of transsexual development in one individual - me! How well I succeed at this remains to be seen and is in part dependent on time limitations. Anyway, the truth is I miss writing research papers.

Of course, it is not possible for me to write a completely non-biased study about myself. We'll see how it goes and perhaps some of those here that know me will help keep me honest.

[Danya]

I wanted to change the title of this thread because it promises more than I find I can deliver. I can edit the title that is shown in the first thread post. Turns out, though, that the original title is retained in the thread listings which indicates there is a titles pointer in the Archive database that I do not have access to. That is alright, I will leave the original post title (editable by me) so as not to confuse members.

This morning, I wrote this post to explain my reasoning for wanting to change the title. I am leaving it as an FYI explaining my need to change the type of thread this will be. That is, I will not quote and cite many references. Here is the original post:

>>>>I have changed the title of this thread because I realize there is no way to find the time and money to develop it the way I had hoped. Right now, I do not have the time and money to find enough relevant references for what I write. I cannot spend much to purchase online research articles, I do not have the time to go to libraries to either find journal papers or order copies of those and I do not have the time to read all that information. Doing research is enjoyable but I have to be realistic.

I have used both Google and Google Scholar to search for online articles on transgender and transsexuality papers. Last night, I tried Google first. With my initial search phrase, I found that this thread, with the original title, was in position six on the first of many pages of results. That bothered me because the title is misleading if I will not be able to deliver on what it states. Its position in the list very likely indicates a relative lack of web resources on this topic.

I know this thread will continue to show up someplace on Google. For all I know, the original title will remain in search results but that is beyond my control. This is the most I can do.

As it is, if someone does a 'quick reply' or uses the 'Post Reply' button , the original title is carried forward. If you use the 'Quote' button, that is not the case.<<<<

[Danya]

I was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen as I thought of things to write here. The need to write them down gave me a good excuse to take a work break.

I have mentioned before that my life is much more full and rich now that I have not only accepted but embraced my true gender identity as a female. As a complete person I am more open to new possibilities in life. Pretending to be someone you are not, regardless of whether this is a conscious decision, takes a lot of effort and leads to unhappiness.

These are merely a few memories to get my thought process going for this thread. I realize now that I have persistently, from a very young age, had doubts about my gender identity. As a child, and unlike some other trans kids, I never announced to anyone 'I am a girl'. There were signs along the way, though, that this was the case even if I was not fully aware of them.

Some of my memories and life experiences could apply to young boys who grow up with a same sex erotic attraction but do not identify as transgender. This outcome is described in books and literature on transgender identities.

Other memories I describe may have no clear tie-in to gender and sexuality. They help complete the picture of who I am, though, and that is important to me.

I will undoubtedly repeat some things I have posted on other threads and in my blog. What I am doing here is starting over from my earliest memories and moving forward. It is the nature of memory to be haphazard so I will not always remember things in chronological order. At times I may not know the correct order.

It is not my intention to get into debates about alternative viewpoints on what my individual experiences could mean. I welcome comments, as always. My ultimate goal is to present a fairly thorough description of how I arrived at where I am today. That is, a very happy transsexual woman.

I have few memories of my life until a month or so before I turned nine years old. That is when we moved from our home in a very large eastern city to the suburbs. What I do remember from that earlier period seems likely to be very significant in understanding who I am.

Some memories:

- My earliest memory may be from a spring season when I was perhaps 3 or 4. Our small row house lawn had purple and white crocuses blooming and I remember sticking my face in them to get a better look! I have always traced my interest in macro photos of flowers to that time. This also seems to be the start of my lifelong interest in gardening.

Over the years I never gave up the habit of doing whatever it took to get my nose and eyes close to blossoms. Neighbor children would often find it strange when, even in high school, I could be seen at our suburban home sticking my nose in the flowers. I was never embarrassed to be seen on the ground getting a clear look at low-growing plants and flowers.

When we lived in the suburbs and spring arrived, I would check on the growth of budding trees, shrubs and other plants every day after school in decent weather. This was not a quick look around, either. I methodically went from tree, bush and so on until I had looked at every one.

- I know I was 5 years old when I had my first small garden planted with easy to grow zinnias and gourds. This is a very vivid memory and I view it as an important event in my young life. Years later my parents confirmed my age when this happened.

My little garden did very well. My father had prepared the soil on the tiny plot of land on the side of our row house, which was on the end of the block. I planted the seeds and nurtured them. My plants did very well without any adult oversight, to my parents surprise.

Then there was the morning I woke up and went out to see if my plants needed watering. I found all the blossoms had been torn off the zinnia plants and tossed in the street. I was devastated and I am crying as I write about it now. This surprises me a bit since this was so very long ago. There was no way I could understand why anyone would do such a thing. I assumed neighbor boys were responsible. This was undoubtedly a relatively early, although not the first, signal to me that I was not like other boys.

By the time we moved to the suburbs just as I was about to turn 9, my father was telling neighbors and friends that I was his gardener. This is a good memory of my father that is important to me.

I had large vegetable gardens and many large flower beds that did well. More than once, cantaloupes were stolen by neighbor kids. This made me sad and, just as when I was 5, I had no understanding of why boys would do this kind of thing.

- Another early memory was playing house and with paper dolls with a neighbor girl who lived at the opposite end of our city street. I look at this as one of the happiest times of my entire childhood. I think I was about 4 at the time. More on this another time.

- My middle brother's need to compete with me became intense after we moved to the suburbs. He is not quite two years younger than me and I am the oldest of three brothers. I have no sisters.

I am going into this now not because I have unresolved issues with him. I would not be surprised or disappointed if I never hear from him again. Our interactions over the years do shed light on who I am and so I will include these.

If my brother saw me doing well at something, he wanted to do the same thing. I am sure this is natural sibling rivalry.

So he decided he wanted a garden of his own. He seemed content to have a small area to work in compared to the large areas I was cultivating. His garden did not thrive and was soon overtaken with weeds.

Around this same period, I became very interested in astronomy and got a refractor telescope of several inches diameter. I would spend hours looking at the planets and moon. Brother then decided he had to have a telescope of his own. My parents got him a smaller one and he seemed happy. Soon he gave up, though, and never developed a real interest.

It was probably in senior high school that I took the National Educational Development Test (NEDT). For all I know this is no longer administered. At any rate, my score was 98th percentile. My brother took the test two years later and got 99th percentile.

I had completed high school, and I may have finished a year of college, when my favorite high school English teacher visited to look at my gardens. My brother walked up to her and asked if I had told her he had scored better than me on the NEDT. I was totally baffled by his behavior and basically thought he was a jerk, although I did not say anything then or later.

What I now think was part of the relationship dynamic with my brother is his conviction that I was not providing everything he wanted from an older brother. I certainly was not a role model of manly behavior and he has recently stated how embarrassed he was to have me as an older brother. He soon amended that statement to say he was not merely embarrassed. He thought my behavior through my teens was strangely odd and feminine. I agree my behavior was odd relative to the culturally expected standards for teen males. This is another indication of how different I was from any boy or young man I had ever met.

I remember more than once sitting in the high school library with my brother in the room. He and his friends would sit at another table and point at me and make deriding comments. I sat there silently and pretended not to hear. His behavior hurt me because I had no understanding of why anyone, let alone my own brother, would want to treat me this way.

He would make the same types of comments to others our age in different settings, too. This never made sense to me as a child. I have no recollection about treating him badly, with the exception of not sharing my toys when I was maybe 6!

Years later, at my youngest brother's wedding, a relative of my sister-in-law asked me what was wrong with my middle brother. He seemed to have an attitude problem and was not coming across as very friendly. I refused to say anything bad about him, simply stating I did not know what was going on. At other points in our younger years, I would even defend some of his behavior even if only half-heartedly.

ASIDE: This is getting way too long for one post so I am going to briefly mention a few other memories than take this up another time.

- I am not sure of my exact age, but I was probably around 6 when my parents drove my brothers and me several hundred miles to my grandparents' house. We had no relatives within a short driving distance. They were to look after us for a few weeks while my mother was in the hospital.

My mother told my grandmother that we boys could run around without shirts to cut down on laundry. I stated out loud to my parents, and in front of my brothers and grandparents, that I should not be expected to do that because girls do not do that. I have described this elsewhere.

I did not go without a shirt the entire time we were with my grandparents. I only rarely went without a shirt as a child, no matter what the temperature was. The only exception was when we went swimming. Even then I was not happy about going around without a shirt and would often wear a white undershirt into the water.

More than enough said for now.

[kristoff]

Thread title has been amended

[Danya]

Is gender identity a social construct? I would have to say that the expression of gender identity is, in part at least, a social construct. Gender expression for men and woman varies among cultures and at different times. Men and women are typically expected to dress in different ways, they sport different types of hair styles and so on. Cultural expectations clearly play a role in how men and women present themselves.

The role of culture and social influences on the development of Gender Identity, though, presents a less clear picture at least initially. One can say very young male and female children are treated very differently by their parents. That has a powerful influence on the developing child's perception of what it means to be male or female, boy or girl, man or woman.

The question is, do environmental factors such as differences in parenting styles for male and female children play an absolute role in settling the child in a comfortable gender identity? From my own experience, I would say no. I can feel reasonably confident that it was not my parents' intention to raise a male sex child who would later decide he was not a 'he' at all. To the best of their abilities, they would have followed the 'normal' script for the proper raising of a male child.

It is my belief that my own 'brain gender' was an inherent part of who I am from before birth. I base this conclusion on extensive reading of the latest thinking on gender identity development.

I have no way of proving my conclusion and in the end it really makes no difference to who I am today. Even if I were somehow to be shown irrefutable evidence that my gender identity is based entirely on environmental factors affecting me when I was a child, it would make no difference to who I am today. Nonetheless, I firmly believe knowledge is power and I want to be in a position where I can speak with some authority. There are many people who seek to discredit trans people in any way they can. It is important to me to be able to refute their claims firmly with a clear understanding of the issues.

This is from the superb Lynn Conway web site on transgender and transsexual people. Lynn transitioned (MtF) in the late 60s and was then fired from IBM despite having made quite a name for herself there as a computer scientist and engineer. The link for this information is The Theory that Gender Identity is Socially Constructed is Finally Shattered.

I am including this to serve as a reference for future discussion of my own gender identity development. I suspect many of you are already aware of what Lynn reports here.

The theory that gender identity is socially constructed is finally shattered:

The breakaway from John Money's paradigm escalated rapidly after the scientific community learned that Money had suppressed for many years clear evidence that his theories were wrong. The final straw was the highly publicized case of "John/Joan", presented in the book As Nature Made Him: The Boy Who Was Raised as a Girl, by John Colapinto.

Decades ago, John Money had advised the parents of an infant boy who had lost most of his penis in a medical accident to have the boy surgically changed into a girl - under the theory that "she" would then grow up to be a normal girl instead of an "abnormal boy". This was a very noteworthy case for scientific researchers because the child was born with an identical twin who could serve as a basis of comparison in the study of gender development. As a first step, the child was castrated and the rest of his penis removed. He was then raised as a girl. However, clearly exhibiting an innate gender identity as a little boy, "she" began to declare that "she" was "really a boy" and rebelled against efforts to make "her" behave like a girl. At puberty, still unaware of "her" childhood surgery, she resisted her parent's and physician's efforts to feminize her with estrogen and further surgeries. Eventually, she underwent gender transition to become male, much as would an FtM transsexual. In this case, raising a boy-child with apparently female genitals as a girl clearly did NOT alter the child's inborn sense of his own true gender.

Over many decades, John Money continually referred to the John/Joan case as a victory, fabricating facts to indicate that this case had been a "complete success". Money never "allowed" anyone to get close to "Joan" to learn more details about her life, begging off any contact in the name of "privacy". The case gradually became so legendary that it became the cornerstone of support for Money's entire theory of gender.

And then the shattering news came down, in the revelations that John Money knew full well that the infant's reassignment had not worked at all. And worse yet, he had deliberately concealed this counter-evidence to his theories for decades - decades during which thousands more infants had been subjected to infant intersex surgical maimings. Fittingly, it was Professor Milton Diamond, the scientist who'd bravely challenged Money as a young graduate students decades earlier, who uncovered the deception.

Professor Diamond had always been suspicious of Money's results. Over the years he had tried in numerous research studies and papers to persuade others to at least consider the possibility that gender identity was inborn. However, his efforts were to no avail, given Money's intellectual dominance of the field.

Finally, in the early 1990's, Diamond managed to track down the child "Joan", now presumably a grown woman, whose case had been the foundation of Money's entire viewpoint. Wanting to simply confirm what had or had not happened to her, Diamond had stumbled into the incredible fact that "she" had never felt like a girl at all, and was now a married man!*

[*The story later came to a very tragic end. Although "John" had been able to socially and surgically reverse his childhood reassignment and become a male, "he acknowledged a deep well of wrenching anger that would never go away. "You can never escape the past," he told the Seattle Post-Intelligencer in 2000. "I had parts of my body cut away and thrown in a wastepaper basket. I've had my mind ripped away."" "John" committed suicide on May 4 2004.]

Diamond and a colleague, Sigmundson, then worked tirelessly to document what had happened in this case, and they wrote a journal paper to reveal the results. The paper was so controversial that many research journals simply turned it down! So great was the influence of Money and the knee-jerk buy-in into his now established paradigm of thought about gender identity. The various journals simply could not believe the evidence that was staring them in the face!

The paper, "Sex Reassignment at Birth: Long Term Review and Clinical Implications" by Milton Diamond & H. Keith Sigmundson, was finally published in 1997 in the Archives of Pediatric and Adolescent Medicine. There was a firestorm of reaction in the media and the research community to its astonishing news. John Money was publicly revealed to have falsified evidence and suppressed counter-evidence in the case that was the cornerstone of his entire theory of gender identity. Within two years the writer John Calapinto published a detailed account of the overall story, bringing it to the public at large.

[plix]

After reading about some of your childhood, I have realized that it is quite similar to mine in many respects. The playing with girls, the relationship with my brother, and yes, even the love of gardening

Like you, I think the reason my relationship with my brother has become sour is I cannot be the masculine older brother he is looking for. We never have gotten along very well, and this is probably because even as children are interests were remarkably different. I do feel sorry for him at times and also upset with myself because I cannot be the older brother he is looking for. I do think he deserves that sort of older brother, and I wish I could give it to him, but I know that I can't.

As for gender identity being a social construct, I cannot say I believe that is true, but then again, I really don't know. I mean, why is it that so many gay men and transgender women had distorted relationships with their fathers? That is something that turns up repeatedly, though some have proposed the cause/effect is the reverse, that the inherent gayness or femaleness causes the father to treat the child in a less than ideal manner.

In my case I know that I am male, but I also know that I will never relate to other males the way most do, and that I will always relate to females the way most can't. I am not necessarily happy with the circumstances, but what can I do, given that I am undoubtedly male?

[Blaise]

This is an excellent thread. Thank you.

[Danya]

After reading about some of your childhood, I have realized that it is quite similar to mine in many respects. The playing with girls, the relationship with my brother, and yes, even the love of gardening

Hi plix,

Yes, we have posted elsewhere about some of our similarities. I found that kind of neat!

Like you, I think the reason my relationship with my brother has become sour is I cannot be the masculine older brother he is looking for. We never have gotten along very well, and this is probably because even as children are interests were remarkably different. I do feel sorry for him at times and also upset with myself because I cannot be the older brother he is looking for. I do think he deserves that sort of older brother, and I wish I could give it to him, but I know that I can't.

As far as my middle brother goes, the fact that I was never the older masculine-type brother he would have wanted is simply a fact of life. I fully understand how my clear femininity was an embarrassment to him when we were teens, still children. It is now roughly 40 years later and well past time he got beyond that. I do feel sorry for him but only because he is stuck in the past. He needs help in moving on and dealing with the current reality so he can live a fuller life. There is nothing I can do to help him there.

I in no way blame myself for his feelings when we were teens. I was simply being myself in that I never fit into the masculine role. This was not something I was deliberately doing and it while it made life more difficult for my brother, it made it hell for me.

Some in a similar situation try to be one of the guys despite the self-knowledge that they are not. That can be a viable option in order to survive growing up. There was no time when I tried this, though. It would have been an act that I was incapable of pulling off. I had no desire to be a guy and the thought of fitting in with them was not pleasant at all. I was horrified when I looked at what was happening to the bodies of older boys going through puberty and realized I would become one of 'them' when I grew older. That was a living nightmare.

If my brother does not get help with his issues, I will protect myself from him by staying out of touch. He was an abused child and, while I absolutely know he does not intend this, he is continuing a pattern of verbal and emotional abuse of family members. I have seen this dynamic at work in his interactions with my other brother and his wife, too. At this point in my life, he is an emotional danger for me. I have been the only one in the family to call him up short and let him know his behavior is not acceptable. The rest of the family wants to pretend that we all get along fabulously and everything is just fine. They will put up with any behavior to avoid destroying the illusion. Things are not fine at all. This does not mean that love is not there.

As for gender identity being a social construct, I cannot say I believe that is true, but then again, I really don't know. I mean, why is it that so many gay men and transgender women had distorted relationships with their fathers? That is something that turns up repeatedly, though some have proposed the cause/effect is the reverse, that the inherent gayness or femaleness causes the father to treat the child in a less than ideal manner.

I believe gender identity is not a social construct. Whether it is entirely inborn or not, for all individuals, may be open to question. There is certainly evidence, as in the quoted material from Lynn Conway, that even extraordinary efforts to alter an individual's true gender identity can meet with complete failure.

In my case I know that I am male, but I also know that I will never relate to other males the way most do, and that I will always relate to females the way most can't. I am not necessarily happy with the circumstances, but what can I do, given that I am undoubtedly male?

We all must find our own paths and you have been traveling down yours for a time now. On your journey, you have learned some very important things about who you are. That is terrific. You are young and still have years to discover more about yourself.

Hugs,
Danya

[Danya]

This is an excellent thread. Thank you.

Hi Ted,

I appreciate the feedback very much. It is at times emotionally draining for me to write about my past. I have dealt with it about as well as anyone can, I suspect. I very much live in the present. Nonetheless, describing my childhood memories tends to bring up the feelings that went along with them many years ago. That is the hard part. The reason I am writing this thread is to more fully understand who I am and how I came to be where I am today. There is also the thought that I may in a small way help others.

Hugs,
Danya

[Danya]

My gender identity is still coalescing as I travel on this transition adventure. At times I feel as though everything is clear to me: I have arrived, I am living my life as a woman and that is wonderful. There are other times when my existence as this woman seems not completely satisfying. This periodic unease has not interfered, so far, with my general happiness. What it comes down to is, how far must I go to feel truly fulfilled in life as a woman?

I never imagined that I could have a life this full. For the first time, I feel genuinely connected to people. I am now one of the group. As a male and through decades of depression and overall unhappiness, I always was more of an observer of other people. I did not relate so easily to them as fellow humans. I could be very sympathetic and compassionate, but I still felt apart, alone and different.

What I want now is even more connectedness with others. How do I get that? Do I have have to be 'more' of a woman, physically, for that to occur? I know the answer is 'probably not'. Jesus (not That Jesus, btw) responded to my comment "who I feel I am is the critical part" with "it is the only part" that matters. Intellectually, I cannot deny he is correct. Doubts still creep in because I exist in a physical body. That body is a reminder of a disconnect between my feelings and my physical reality.

The problem can come in several ways. When I look in the mirror before applying makeup in the morning. I see some beard growth and, although I can apply makeup well and people will not notice this through an entire day, I know this sign of masculinity is there. I love the way I look with no visible beard and I long to have a man caress my body and face. How does my remaining beard work into that? With the right man, if there is one, it won't matter.

Every day I see wrinkles on my face. When looking in my magnifying mirror as I apply lipstick, I notice wrinkles on my neck. I do not like this! Can I be truly beautiful with this 56 year old body? Why should I care at my age? The reason I care is because this is my first chance to experience life as a woman and I fear as I age further people will see me as less of a woman rather than a developing one.

For some reason I don't quite understand, I usually feel I am indeed beautiful. In fact, I sometimes feel I am more beautiful than many natal women around me. I cannot begin to explain this to myself, let alone anyone else. It doesn't even matter to me if others view me this way. So perhaps this is very dependent on the fact that I do feel very feminine and I accept that I am in my thoughts, besides.

I feel totally at ease in my body but, strangely to me, that is based in large part on what is going on in my head. It is something people notice, though. Monday after work, I went to a bar with a young gay friend and a straight woman from the office. This other woman and I have never had a chance to talk much, although I have known her several years. I have always said 'hi' to her as we passed. Monday evening, we spoke at length for the first time.

She started out with what others have commented on. That is, how happy I am and how obvious that is. She went on, though, to describe how naturally I move as a woman. The way I carry myself is also very feminine, she said, along with some similar comments. She was clearly very happy for me as she spoke.

For the first time, I have had some real regrets that I did not transition earlier in life. I suspect I would have taken different paths in my career(s) and been much more successful there (however I would want to define success) and in life generally. So I mourn a little for years spent acting out the role of a male while not fully participating in life.

Despite this, I know I might never have reached the wonderful place I inhabit today if it had not been for exactly the life I have already experienced. All in all, things have worked out remarkably well for me. I just don't have all the answers.

[Danya]

Gender and Sexuality

Some of the events from my life I write about here I have described elsewhere. It has been important for me to re-examine some of this today because, for the first time in a long while, I have felt very lonely. I think this feeling arose because I am not well physically. My annual summer asthma attack has returned. Feeling physically out of sorts often leaves me vulnerable to self-doubt about my life decisions. This is not at all logical but there you have it. I do not feel well, so today I do not notice the usual happiness I have experienced much of the time since I transitioned. That must mean there is something wrong with my decision to transition (I do not doubt my transsexual identity). My thought process is more convoluted than that, but that's the basic way it goes. Then I can feel adrift and alone. Once I come to my senses and realize what is going on in my head, I am fine. These days that usually does not take long. Today was a bit of an exception, although I am now back to a place of emotional stability.

Writing about my life banishes these doubts when they occasionally come up, even if l do not feel well. Other things that help can include receiving a simple email greeting from a friend who knows me well.

When I was a child, I never felt that I was a boy. I never clearly articulated “I am a girl” and I cannot state that I ever felt quite that way as a child. Why not? I identify as a male to female transsexual now. Some gender researchers would say I am likely a ‘secondary transsexual’ because I did not insist I was a girl as a child and I identified as transsexual after the age of 40. A ‘primary transsexual’ would clearly know from a very young age that he or she was in the wrong body and insist upon being treated as they perceived themselves to be. Other investigators will insist there is no significance attached to the age at which one self-identifies as transsexual or transgender. I find this argument pointless for my situation.

On the other hand, if I buy into the view expressed in a paper by William Henkin (whom I cite below, several times it now turns out ) I may be more of a 'classical' or 'true' transsexual. Henkin here is describing one group of clients he sees: "“gay men” coming out as heterosexual women. This last category deserves some special attention because it is comprised of the male-bodied people Harry Benjamin identified as “true” transsexuals of the “high intensity” type for whom transition is both “urgently requested” and “indicated.” Relative to the rest of my transgender practice and experience this has been a small enough component to put in perspective the academic literature that claims, as the Diagnostic and Statistical Manualof Mental Disorders has repeatedly done, a ratio of 1:30,000 morphological males and 1:100,000 morphological females in the American population who are sufficiently gender dysphoric to seek what is still called sex reassignment surgery (SRS)."

I always suspected, starting from early puberty, that I might be homosexual. I certainly knew I had some type of attraction to men. It turns out that many transgender persons experience life in the gay community as part of the process of figuring out their true identities. This is the path I have taken and for a time, after a 20-year marriage, I identified as a gay man. Even before I married, I told my future wife that I thought I might be gay. During our marriage, I was in agony over my erotic attraction to men. I never experienced sex with a man until the end of our marriage. My first experience having sex with a man was liberating but later encounters were nearly devoid of any type of fulfillment. So the gay identity never worked well for me and I had trouble understanding that. It was a gay therapist who first suggested I might be transsexual when I was seeing him because of this issue.. I had been out several years as gay by that point. Today, I am still physically attracted to men while I now identify as female.

The Henkin's paper is turning out to be a gold mine of information for me. He expresses the provacative view that some adults who identify as transgender may not have been trans as children: "But just as most people who question, explore, or confront transgender identity issues are not transsexual, so, clearly, there are many people who do not come out either to themselves or to others until they are adults, and some may not even be transgendered till then – although it is not at all clear to me whether some people in this position merely tried so hard to be the gender they were not that they hid it even from themselves for many years. Being transsexual is a very hard life road for most people.

Yet, while the dilemma is not as severe in adulthood when one’s ostensible power in the world is equal to that of other people’s, the issues that underlie it are the same as they are in childhood. Even in adulthood – perhaps especially in adulthood, when we are all supposed to “know” better – the relation between transgressive orientations and transgressive identities remains as confusing for most people as do the distinctions between sex and gender. This confusion is what Riki Anne Wilchins observed leads bashers to call transwomen “faggots”; it is probably what underlies the academic and clinical distinctions between sexual orientation and gender identity; and it is why we have not – yet – heard much discussion about sexual identity or gender orientation."

I certainly knew, on a child's level, that I had gender issues growing up. Nonetheless, Henkin's insightful comments on the difficulties faced by even mature adults when they probe transgender questions are relevant to my situation. His use of the terms 'sexual identity' and 'gender orientation' opens up new possibilities for understanding who I am. Considering how those concepts may help explain my own development and identity, particularly in light of the fact that I have not run across them before, will take no small amount of time. I am very interested in the interplay of gender and sexuality. I am finding, since I transitioned, that my sexuality may not be solely oriented toward men. This goes against what I have long thought and felt. This sexuality piece alone is a complex issue for me because I am still undeniably physically attracted to men. Somehow, there is something else going on in the background that leaves me attracted to women in a sexual way that is unrelated to any physical connection. More on this at another time.

There were a few times, certainly before the age of eight, when I told my parents variations on “I will not do that because girls don’t do that”. During those young years of development, I suspect this meant I had at least a suspicion on some level that I was, indeed, a girl. I can think of no other reason why I would justify my own behavior based on what girls could or could not do. It was not as if I was trying to get out of an unpleasant task by pleading ‘but girls don’t have to do that’. I was simply refusing to run around on a hot day without a shirt, for example. I had no sisters for comparison so I never felt that they were receiving preferential treatment that I then wanted for myself.

Conversely, I never refused to do somethng or be a certain way because 'boys don't do that'. It never entered my thoughts to try that as an excuse, for example, to get out of helping wash the dinner dishes even when I was much older.

After the age of eight or nine, I no longer refused to go without a shirt because ‘girls don’t have to’. Instead, I simply didn’t go around without a shirt. I would occasionally state “I am not like any of the other boys”. Comments like these would invariably be met with stern parental responses something like “Don’t ever say that, you are exactly like all the other boys”. I doubt my parents truly believed this. They had to have known I was very different although they may not have known what that really meant. Their immediate rebukes were likely intensified by their own perceptions that I indeed was different. They had no clue what to do about that but they ‘knew’ it could not be good.

In the article Coming Out Trans: Questions of Identity for Therapists Working with Transgendered Individuals (Trans Identity from the Queer Perspective) , by William A. Henkin, Ph.D. , © 2001, 2007 by William A. Henkin (http://www.ejhs.org/volume11/Coming_out_trans.htm), the author describes the difficulties with self-acceptance that gay and trans children face. He gives examples of children who are different from the majority in areas such as ethnic background. These children may be harassed and tormented on the school playground but they can go home to their families who assure them that they are really alright and loved.

Henkin mentions the work of educator Brian McNaught (sources are listed at the bottom) who points out that “If you’re a kid of almost any kind of minority at all, at least at the end of the day you can go home to parents who share your experience, and so can hold you and say, I know, Darling: I understand, and you can believe them and feel some little comfort that you are not alone: that a most important Someone understands you, and you have some hope and maybe even protection in the world.”

McNaught goes beyond this to state that if you are a gay or lesbian child you cannot tell your parents anything, even if you are tormented by other kids. You know your parents agree with everyone else. You are no good, bad, sinful and on and one because of who you are. The reassurance of a loving family is absent and you are left on your own with a secret you may learn to hide from yourself. You may go so far as to attempt suicide to hide your secret.

The situation for trans youth can be even more damaging. “If you’re transgendered, on the other hand, the secret you have that you can’t tell anyone is even more overwhelming than if you’re gay, because as soon as you say “I’m not a girl” or “I’m not a boy,” people point to your body, sometimes literally, and tell you you’re wrong about your very own identity. In the face of your still relatively innocent, trusting, and unencumbered awareness, the people you must trust and upon whom you must rely tell you that you are not who you know yourself to be. Especially when they derive from the mostly adult world of appearances, these assertions establish an element of identity conflict in the trans child unlike any other developmental identity conflict we know. (Except, possibly, in some cases of severe, persistent abuse that begins very early in childhood, such as those in which the abused child is forced or coerced to deny what happened to him.)

That is why coming out trans is not like coming out gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Where sex is concerned, including orientation, a person’s value may be questioned and demeaned, but where gender is concerned the person’s identity itself is indicted, and so it’s no wonder transgendered people have a suicide rate even higher than that of the gay population. (reference 4, below)“

[When I was searching for a new gender therapist in April of this year, I contacted a social worker who is an ex-ex-gay. He wrote me a very gentle note in which he said he realized it was much more difficult to come out as trans than as gay and that he had a great deal of respect for out transgender persons. I have come out as both gay and trans in my life. Until the last week or two, I did not agree with this kind man on the greater difficulty of coming out as trans. In fact, I have tended to downplay any problems I have faced in transitioning because everything has felt so right. For various reasons that I may go into at another time, I now agree with this therapist.]

On one level, I desperately wanted to believe my parents when they sternly informed me that I was just like all the other boys. They were the people I trusted most in the world and I did want their validation and love. Deep down, though, I knew they were wrong and I was not at all who they wanted me to be. If I dwelled on that difference too long or mentioned it too often, I risked losing the only support I had in the world. I had to hide from myself. I could never reconcile who I was with the person my parents unwaveringly declared me to be. There was no hope for happiness. Through my teen years, I often thought of suicide.

Of the few memories I have of the years before I turned nine, my fondest is playing with the girl down the street. We used paper dolls and played house. I was in heaven or so it seems looking back on that time. I have mentioned this time before and guess I was around 3 or 4 at the time. During this period, my father held down multiple jobs in order to bring in enough income to pay the bills and take care of a wife and three sons, of which I was the oldest. He was seldom home. There was a time when he was not away at work when he found me playing with my female friend. He dragged me away and soon after got me involved in playing some kind of ball game with the neighbor boys. As soon as my father left the area, I stopped playing with these kids. I never went back to joining boys in any activities, sports related or not, throughout my years living at home.

A clear memory from a time after I was forbidden (just now it has come back to me that my parents did indeed forbid this) to play with my girl pal, was being by myself on a swing in a city park. My family was off in the distance interacting with other people and laughing. I remember looking at the others and feeling horribly alone and depressed. I very much remember feeling I did not fit in with anyone. In those days, as I later found out, professionals did not believe young children could be depressed. I have experienced deep depression as an adult and I am certain I was a very depressed throughout my childhood. I have no memory of being depressed when I was able to play with my female friend down the street. Perhaps, though, at the age of 3 or 4 I truly was too young to be depressed. I don’t know the answer to that and I do not have time to look into it.

So, as I described above, I did not feel like a boy as a child. I stated this to my parents on a number of occasions in different words, even to the point of saying I would not do something because girls do not have to. There may be several reasons why I never actually stated “I am a girl”. The fact that my parents clearly disapproved and sanctioned cross-gender play may be part of it.

In addition, my own awareness that I inhabited a body that matched that for a boy may have confused the issue for me. I have always been a deep thinker and I would not be surprised if I was convinced that somehow I had to be a boy no matter what I felt like. My attraction to science education was in part based on my desire to describe and classify things. I could observe that my body fit the description of a boy child. It may be significant that my mother often said that I was such a deep thinker as a child that it frightened her. Most likely, I was so withdrawn from people that even if I were not a deep thinker, though I believe I was, it would have appeared to others that this was the case.

As I matured, I remained withdrawn and pursued solitary activities. Things like playing the piano, gardening and taking long walks in the woods with my dog “Princess” occupied my time outside of school. I was at peace with myself when I was alone.

I will delve deeper into the period where I have clear memories of my life, after reaching age nine, in my next post. For now, I will say that this during this later period of my childhood I felt even more alienated from boys and men. I stood by myself waiting for the school bus, unwilling to associate with boys my age. I knew I could not be one of them. I had a few male friends in high school more or less by default. They were not part of the ‘in’ crowd and, besides, I excelled in school and they appreciated my help with their homework. I never really related to these friends.

While it is therapeutic for me to write about my life, it is also emotionally draining. As I have stated before, bringing up memories unavoidably brings up associated feelings. I cannot do this kind of thing on a daily basis. Life really is very good for me now and the present will remain my main focus.


Specific references used in the sections of the Henkin paper I discuss:

McNaught, B. (1988) On being gay. New York: St. Martin’s
McNaught, B. (1993) Gay issues in the workplace. New York: St. Martin’s
McNaught, B. (1997) Now that I’m out what do I do? New York: St. Martin’s

4. An admittedly old reference cited in the paper: Transsexuals may be at higher risk than homosexuals and much higher risk than the general population to suicidal behavior. Fifty-three percent of transsexuals surveyed had made suicide attempts (Huxdly, J., and Brandon, S., 1981).

[plix]

Saying that you didn't want to do something becaue girls don't do it implies that you are a girl, and therefore qualifies you as a primary transsexual since you indeed did have cross-gender feelings at an early age. It's not always simple as clearly stating, "I am a girl." Sometimes the cross-gender feelings manifest themselves differently.

Ah, the feelings of not fitting in with anyone. I know those feelings all too well. They are still present today, and I have no reason to believe they will ever disappear.

Do I believe you were depressed at age 3 or 4? Well, it depends on what you mean by "depressed." Do I believe that you had a "mental illness" caused by a "chemical imbalance" at only 3 or 4, and that you needed SSRIs to treat it at that young age? No, I do not. Do I believe that you felt depressed at that age? Yes, I do.

The word "depressed" is tossed around quite freely these days, and it is difficult to determine whether people who say they are depressed are saying that they are feeling down or they are experiencing the "mental illness" known as depression. Then again, is it possible to feel depressed without having the mental illness known as depression? Or does everyone who feel depressed automatically have a mental illness by default? I really don't know what the current views are anymore, but I do know what my own thoughts on the matter are. Not that they matter much to anyone else, since I am not a supposed expert in the field. But they do matter quite a bit to me

So I suppose a lot of it depends on what you believe about feelings of depression, and whether you think such feelings automatically mean mental illness. And are you actually saying that they now think 3 year-old children can suffer from the mental illness known as depression? I hadn't heard that. But it doesn't surprise me. I just wonder when infants are going to start being diagnosed with mental illnesses and offered SSRIs

I am looking forward to hearing more about your childhood because I know it will be similar in many ways to my own, and also because I am interested in learning about how your gender identity developed and expressed itself throughout the years

[Danya]

Saying that you didn't want to do something becaue girls don't do it implies that you are a girl, and therefore qualifies you as a primary transsexual since you indeed did have cross-gender feelings at an early age. It's not always simple as clearly stating, "I am a girl." Sometimes the cross-gender feelings manifest themselves differently.

Hey plix,

I think you were probably writing this response as I was updating my last post for about the sixth time tonight (or rather, this morning by now)! I noticed you were looking at this thread then.

The last thing I added was another quote from the Henkin's paper that would indicate I am a 'true' transsexual, for whatever that is worth. It is all very interesting. The end result is what matters and the fact that I am happy and doing really well is the ultimate proof I am on the right path.

Ah, the feelings of not fitting in with anyone. I know those feelings all too well. They are still present today, and I have no reason to believe they will ever disappear.

I agree and I will never entirely fit in, either. Now that I have transitioned, though, the fit is much better than I would have dreamed possible.

Do I believe you were depressed at age 3 or 4? Well, it depends on what you mean by "depressed." Do I believe that you had a "mental illness" caused by a "chemical imbalance" at only 3 or 4, and that you needed SSRIs to treat it at that young age? No, I do not. Do I believe that you felt depressed at that age? Yes, I do.

The word "depressed" is tossed around quite freely these days, and it is difficult to determine whether people who say they are depressed are saying that they are feeling down or they are experiencing the "mental illness" known as depression. Then again, is it possible to feel depressed without having the mental illness known as depression? Or does everyone who feel depressed automatically have a mental illness by default? I really don't know what the current views are anymore, but I do know what my own thoughts on the matter are. Not that they matter much to anyone else, since I am not a supposed expert in the field. But they do matter quite a bit to me

So I suppose a lot of it depends on what you believe about feelings of depression, and whether you think such feelings automatically mean mental illness. And are you actually saying that they now think 3 year-old children can suffer from the mental illness known as depression? I hadn't heard that. But it doesn't surprise me. I just wonder when infants are going to start being diagnosed with mental illnesses and offered SSRIs

What I am saying is I do not know what they say about depression existing in children as young as three. I hope I never hear of SSRIs being presribed for infants.

Most people I talk with lack a real understanding of what depression is as an ongoing, serious problem versus feeling down for a few days.

[mrt]

Depression like pain is often defined by how long you have it. So, stub your toe and its one thing. Have throbbing pains for more then 6 months and its a "condition." Mental illness is such an art to detect and correct. I see it like Impotence was 20 years ago. Everyone then said "Its in your head" and the only treatment was mental health therapy. Then someone injected his penis with some unspellable drug and he got an erection. About 95% of the men with "mental" impotence were cured and they had to rethink everything.

Mental health meds right now are at a (My opinion) primitive state. They discovered most by giving them to hamsters and rats and finding out that when they were loaded full of this stuff poking them with a pencil no longer bothered them. *No joke btw check it out!

The really sad thing is that there is no lab test for mental depression. You can't draw blood, send it to the lab and say "Ahh... Mr Smythe you have Serious Mental Depression" Its all very subjective like those early impotence diagnosis.

I think based on the volume of drugs sold that some are going to the right people. They sell enough to float the Navy with so some HAVE to be going to the right place.

Oh we...

[Danya]

Turns out writing my last long post here was more emotionally draining that I had anticipated. It took me over a day to recover my equilibrium. For a few days, then, I have wondered if it is wise for me to continue telling my life story and how it relates to transsexual identity development. I concluded that it will not destroy my sanity if I try, at least, to deal with events in smaller pieces.

That is what I am trying to do tonight by introducing some of the people and events in my life after I reached the age of nine. We had moved to the suburbs of a very eastern city almost exactly one month before my ninth birthday. For whatever reason, my memory suddenly improved along with the move! Before that, some major things stand out but I have nothing like a continuous recollection of happenings. In fact, it seems like entire years from that earlier time are totally unavailable for recall. I will go back to that earlier period if I remember something worth telling.

For tonight then, I am going to limit my comments to summary observations of some of the people and events in my life at age nine and beyond. At another time, I will expand on these and look at details tied to gender identity.

People and events are not necessarily in chronological order:

I was in the fourth grade when we moved to the 'burbs on December 1. Before the move, I have no memory of what school was like in the city. I have no idea who my teachers were even through the third and fourth grades. I remember my fourth grade teacher in the 'burbs, what the school building looked, sitting in class being bored and so on. I spent most of my time trying to fit in as a boy. That work mostly consisted of not drawing attention to myself for being different. I had no male friends at school.

Fifth grade was pretty much a repeat of fourth. My teacher this year, however, stated in front of the entire class that she wished everyone of her students were as conscientious and thoughtful as me. This was not a good thing for one trying to be inconspicuous.

During this same period, I started taking over much of the available furniture top and counter space in the 'family room' at home. I used it for growing many different kinds of house plants. During the next summer, I got more heavily involved with gardening and in fact greatly expanded the existing vegetable garden started by my father. This was probably the time I also began the first of many flower beds that increased in size in each of the succeeding years.

Sixth grade was perhaps my best year ever and not to be repeated before HS graduation. My teacher, Mrs 'L', was a very kind, perceptive woman and I know she saw that I was different. I had trouble going on the playground during recess and interacting with boys. She told me that was OK and I need not participate in everything. I still have a photo of our class play for Christmas. I was clearly having a good time.

I think it was during sixth grade that I finally got the piano I had been asking for for several years. While we still lived in the city, I was interested in learning trombone or accordion. I never got started on either of those and I am not sure why. The piano my parents got for me as a very old, out of tune player piano purchased from neighbors across the street. It was a steal, I guess, at $25. It was in pretty pathetic condition but at least I was able to start lessons so I was happy.

Writing about this piano reminds me of events from earlier in my life. I will go back to that another time.

So from roughly about sixth through 12th grades, my parents and brothers somehow tolerated my practice sessions in what was not a large house. During summer vacation, I could practice 8 hours without a break. I am sure this was difficult on the rest of the family.

Seventh grade: I was placed in the most advanced class called 701 (versus 702 though 708 or something like that). There were many new things in what was then considered the start of junior high school. I was not yet a freshman but certainly this was a different experience from grade school.

701 was taught by Mr 'S' who was a gentle man. He determined it was important for me to learn to walk like a boy so I would not be hassled by others. He meant well. We went out in the hallway where he demonstrated the correct way for a boy to walk. I didn't get it right away! Once I did, though, the lesson remained with me until I recently let go of it. For decades, I was always monitoring the way I walked and making corrections if I seemed to slip out of the ideal.

I continued to feel that I did not fit in with boys but this had not yet caused me the major grief I experienced during and after puberty. At college, well after the end of most of puberty's changes, I was very uncomfortable with my male body.

Seventh grade also was my introduction to final exams and I was terrified of failing. Although I was very nervous, I did well. On my math test, I scored one point higher than Mr. 'S', who wrote the test himself. I was never quite sure how that worked out.

During the summer between seventh and 8th grade, a neighbor girl, 'J' from down the street would stop by. We would sit outside, play cards and talk. One fine summer day, we decided to try a kiss which would be the first for both of us. We sat against the trunk of a beautiful, old red oak in the back yard. Then we did the evil deed by exchanging a light peck on the lips. We were caught in the act by one of her friends riding by on her bike. She told J's parents who then called mine. J was forbidden to see me for five, yes count them, five whole years. My parents were clearly unhappy with my reported behavior. I was asked if the kiss had happened and I responded, meekly, "no". This was the beginning of a time when I felt further alienation from my parents.

This experience was another sign that I could not share with my parents any of the real concerns of my life as they later developed. Like thoughts of being attracted to men. My occasional attempts at verbally setting myself apart from all other boys, stating that 'I am not like any of them', were met with forceful rebukes.

In the eighth grade I was placed in section 801. I could see what puberty was doing to older boys and I was depressed to think this would happen to me. I remember before puberty started, I stroked my fingers across my smooth cheeks thinking it would not be long before I could no longer enjoy that sensation. Sometime during 8th grade, obvious signs of changes started occurring. Like getting the seemingly constant erections that can be very embarrassing for many boys. Particularly when they occur without any thought, seemingly popping up on their own with amazing frequency and in very public places.

Sometime during puberty, my youngest brother proudly pointed out the hair that was growing in my nose. I was very embarrassed by this. He thought it was cool.

Similarly, we were visiting my father's parents one summer. We saw them once or twice a year as they were a 350-mile drive from our home. A male first cousin 'G' was close to my age. He had on shorts which I had refused to wear for some time. We were sitting on my grandparents' patio late one evening. G was very proud of his new leg hair and was stroking it with his hands. I was horrified by this and the fact that he was doing this in front of the adults. I had on my nice long pants. It got worse when my grandmother said to me, in front of everyone else, that she would be proud of this if she were a young man. Wouldn't I be proud, too? I didn't respond but I did not think this was something I would ever be proud of. Turned out, I never was. Looking back at this, I think my grandmother, who was a very sweet German woman, knew I was different. She was trying to gently nudge me along toward masculine behavior.

Sometime in the midst of puberty, I had a physical scheduled with the school doctor. I shaved off all body hair because I did not want to be embarrassed in front of the nurse and doctor. Around that time, I also stopped wearing shorts and short-sleeved shirts. I continued refusing to go without a shirt inside or out on warm days. Years earlier, I had refused to go shirtless because the was not something girls did. Years later, after I had been married several years I still would not go without a shirt in public. My ex-wife's pleading finally coaxed me out of my shirt on some visits to the beach. I kept my shirt off for as little time as I thought I could get away with without looking totally out of place as a man. That usually meant removing it right before going in the water and then, after a brief swim, running back to the beach blanket to put my shirt back on.

One summer, my youngest brother became tired of 'sandlot' ball in the nearby field and decided he and his buddies should be able to play in the back yard. There was one problem with this. My gardens were in the way. He and his friends trampled some of my plants. This left me in tears and brought back memories of the 5 year old I once was and that younger boy's first ever garden zinnias being tossed in the city street. This brother, whom I generally got along with, could not seem to understand why the loss of a few plants should bother me.

Ninth grade started, the beginning of my 'life' as a freshman. During the school year, we had 'health' class which was taught by one of the gym instructors. I walked in first one day and the very handsome young teacher was there behind the desk. He said to me something like 'it is OK to be different, you know'. Although I knew I was different I did not like it. I also thought by this time my difference would not be so blatantly obvious that even this man who had only seen me once or twice before would know that I was different. I did not respond, as if keeping silent would make the incident disappear. Years later, I regretted not having told this kind man that I appreciated his comment. Unlike my well-meaning seventh grade teacher who wanted me to change to fit in, this man was looking me in the eye and saying I was OK being different. What a gift that was back in the mid-1960s.

At some point in ninth or tenth grade, I decided I needed to get straight A's on my report cards. So I did. What was remarkable about this is that I had only gotten C's in gym before. Along with all the other A's that now showed up on my report cards, I was suddenly receiving A's for gym, too. I can assure you, my performance in gym class was the one thing that had not changed a bit. The school administrators must have let the gym instructors know that they had to now give me A's in gym so as not to ruin my string. Or else they simply changed the C's to A's without consulting the teacher.

Sometime in junior high or high school, I started wearing nothing but dark clothing, maybe with some white shirts. I wore only long-sleeved shirts to hide the hair on my arms. At school, I always buttoned my shirts to the top button. My parents did not understand why I would not dress in livelier colors and wear shorts.

I took the school bus to classes. In the mornings I could not bring myself to stand with the other boys. I felt more alone through school as this feeling of apartness grew. I looked at the other boys and their behavior and could not believe that I could possibly be one of them. They were loud and constantly making sexual comments. They did this in a crude way that is probably typical for boys this age and to be expected.

My parents wanted me to date. Certainly by the time I was a sophomore they were expecting me to go to the prom or whatever it was. I never dated in high school.

I did get propositioned for gay sex by several students. They wanted to meet in the woods and have at it. I was terrified and never went.

As I progressed through high school, I thought I was at least on speaking terms with some of the boys. One by one, they all eventually refused to speak with me until near the end of my senior year my last 'friend' refused to sit with me on the bus one day. The bus stopped for him first and then, once I got on, I would sit next to him. One day, he told me he could no longer sit with me. At graduation he sort of apologized saying that he could not be seen with me and be on good terms with the other boys.

Throughout high school, gym class was a bad experience. There were periods when I regularly went to the nurses office to be checked for a fever. Somehow, my temperature was always a bit elevated and I would get an excuse from gym. I hated gym class. The boys were bullies and I was regularly called 'faggot'. I had no idea what that meant but their tone made it clear this was not considered a good thing.

I was tormented daily by boys beating on me, even in class. They would bide their time until the teacher was not looking and then punch me very hard. I dared not tell my parents about this because this would be seen as further evidence that I was not masculine. They had already made clear that I was not to say anything about not feeling like a boy.

I never once fought back against the bullies and I am not exactly sure why. I have some ideas and may come back to this. Part of it was from a misguided interpretation of 'turn the other cheek'. Throughout high school, I dreamed of becoming a Lutheran minister.

Church was a genuine sanctuary for me then. I started playing the organ in the ninth grade. Women commented on how gracefully I walked while serving as an acolyte, lighting the candles before the service. They compared my graceful motions to the ungraceful movements of other boys. Apparently, the walking lesson provided by my seventh grade teacher never entirely 'took.'

Pastors I came to know at church seemed to not notice or care about how different I might be. I felt at home.

During my last year or two before high school graduation, I would spend Friday evenings at a female friend's home. She had a home organ and we would take turns playing and occasionally play a duet. We spent time watching TV and talking. The thought never entered my head to try anything physical with this young woman. Years later I learned she was disappointed nothing ever developed between us.

At the very end of my last day in high school, the principal came up to me and said what I wonderful student I had been. I had never spoken with the man before. He went on to say how better things would be if all the boys were like me. Ah, right, the other boys past, present and future would not be like me. They were being busy being boys. I was not.

Graduation day came and not a day too soon. There had been college recruiters at the school and it seemed school beyond 12th grade would be a relief.

The evening of graduation day, there was a party for departing seniors. This was the only school-sponsored event I ever attended. I did not feel free in who I was and people picked up on this. My eighth grade history teacher was there. Before that night I had really liked him. At the party though, he said in a loud voice something like "What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you just relax and have fun?" This was my first and last high school party and it left me feeling more alienated from everyone. I was also glad I had not attended any previous high school dances. I was shocked that a teacher I looled up to would treat me this way at all, let alone in front of classmates.

The day after graduation, the mother of a female classmate brought 'E' to our home. She said E was very interested in getting to know young men who were smart and nice. I am sure there were a few other details that I do not recall. Somehow, I did not get the point that they were thinking about me as a potential prospect. I basically looked at them with what must have seemed like total indifference. It was more a total lack of comprehension at what was going on. They left and I never heard anything else from them

I attended college at a liberal arts school in the midwest well-known for its excellent programs in music, science and math. This was 1,200 miles from home and one reason I chose this school was to get away from home.

I never understood the mechanics of sex until I was a graduate student. In high school, I observed dogs mating with some interest but I made no connection between this and what people must do. I asked my father how people have babies and he was too embarrassed to explain. He did get a pamphlet from church that was supposed to explain things. It still was unclear to me. Finally, out of desperation for the information, in grad school I went to the medical library and found out all kinds of interesting things on sex. I had been out of touch with my body before then. The med school books opened my eyes and at the age of 22 I had my first orgasm.