Let me start with the second time I told my parents about my Gender Dysphoria. 'Told' perhaps is the wrong word to use because I can't remember telling my parents I was unhappy at fourteen and a half, but I can remember crying and crying and crying. My communication with them was through wet eyes. I had lost the ability or felt too embarrassed to use words, and crying showed, I suppose, that I was upset without actually having to be too specific about what the problem was. And it also meant that I didn't have to say things like "gender" or "dysphoric" or "TS" (words which I barely knew anyway).
And my mum saw my distress and realized I was asking for her help. And she did help me. She took me to the local nurse. The woman who used to come into my school and check the kids for nits. That's how I remembered her, and I still do although I do vaguely remember that first meeting with her and my mum, talking over various gender related issues in a room that looked exactly like it should for a local clinic - squeaky chairs and an abundance of half filled tissue boxes. My mum sat opposite me and the 'nit' nurse in the middle. I can recall very few things from this day and the months after that. My memory has gone blank apart from being able to picture the interior decor of that room. But I knew that it was a significant day for me because it was the first time I was forced to use words to tell my mum that I had a problem, that it was a big problem and had to be sorted out and taken seriously.
Now, the first time I told them was when I was about nine or ten when saying things to parents didn't seem hard at all and I think I just came out with it and said "Mum, I want to be a boy". And although I'm not sure how she looked, whether she was shocked or matter-of-fact about it, I knew what she said back. She said "Well, if you do we'll have to move away from here". And as a child, to hear that, is the most scary thing in the world. All you've ever known is 'here'. You want to stay 'here' forever and it scared me so much that it is perhaps why I tried a different approach four years later.
Talking to other people with Gender Dysphoria has made me think about the whole process of 'coming out' differently. Many people that I have spoken to say that they kept their secret in for decades because they were scared of hurting their parents. My guilt lies now with the fact that I couldn't hide my sadness from my parents when so many other people thouight it a priority. I have to honestly say that when I told them I was not racked with guilt thereafter. It was not until I was sixteen or so (and that was only through prompting by a psychotherapist) that I started wondering how my parents felt.
Yes, I was a selfish child and stubborn too, but I needed to be. The first time I told them I was only preparing them for what was to come. The second time must have been petrifying for them but not altogether a big surprise. And it was up to them. I was too young. I couldn't do anything more. And though I hate to dramatize it, when my parents first sought help with that nurse, it began a series of meetings that changed the course of my life and my parents hopes and dreams for their child completely and forever. And for their selflessness, I am eternally grateful.
A letter of Resignation - and Explanation, sent by a young trans woman to the members of her University LGBT (Lesbain, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender) society:
This was originally posted to the TGFolk-UK Mailing list and reprinted with permission of the Author.
Hiya,
I've finally drawn up the courage needed to resign from my position as chairperson of the LGBT (after the very sensible advice received after my 'University' post about putting my own well being in front of responsibilities other people could take). Here's the letter I sent to the rest of the committee in an attempt to explain why I needed to step down, I don't know somehow I still feel like I'm letting everyone down:
I've been having increasing difficulty coping with every day life as I deal with, what can be the most stressful period of a transsexual person's life, transition. I'm already receiving extra help from my tutor and lecturers due to difficulties with sleeping, panic attacks and extreme emotional fragility. I can only describe the feelings of transition as an agoraphobia you have to fight through before facing even the most minor of social situations. It's so easy for a casual greeting in a corridor to leave me in tears that sometimes it becomes easier just to stay indoors. I've been forcing myself to keep my social life going and I've been very careful to keep up my responsibilities but I've been advised that, until I have gone through this difficult stage of my life and stepped out the other end a more happy, complete and real person, I should reduce my responsibilities and only go places when I feel up to going there and not because I feel I have to. It sums me up really that I'd end up running a support group where I was the one who needed most support...
I'm sorry but I have to resign my position as chair. It's not fair on anyone to have a chairperson who can't represent them and talk to them and it's not fair on myself to take away one of my few chances at support by being one of the people who's supposed to be doing the supporting. I agreed to stand for Chair because no one else would and it seemed the society would die without intervention. Now it's equally important that I stand down before my own fragility begins to drag everyone else down too.
I hope you can understand this and realise how serious a condition transsexuality is to cope with. Transition is such a terrifying proposition that you live a lie in pain and silence for years trying to fool yourself that you're something else. Once you come out it's because you seriously cannot function at all in the sex society sees you as and the only way you will be able to live is as the person you really are. Transition is terrifying, it's worse than being in the closet. You have to fight to be who you are when fighting's the last thing to do. Parts of you which are sensitive and painful have to be pulled out into the open and then used to bludgeon the world into accepting you. Worse still you're paranoid and sensitive. You just want to be yourself and get on with it but instead you don't know what anyone thinks, you can't function because you never know who people see when they look at you, if they believe you or if they think you're an other, a false person or a man trying to be something he's not. The idea of people talking about you behind your back is terrifying. Buying things in shops becomes a nightmare. And the only thing that can make it better is time and the very, very, very gradual process of change brought on by hormones.
I want to continue to use the LGBT as a support group, although this will mean only coming to things that I think I can cope with. To a transitioning transsexual support through socialisation is like support through a kick in the face. I still want to do what I can to help -- I'll build a new and improved website to be proud of over the Easter vacation and I'll continue to maintain the running of the lgbsoc-members mailing list. But be aware that right now my ability to attend lectures, do coursework and even do things that will help -- like practice speech therapy or apply for a room next year (whoops) -- are a struggle in themselves.
If you need any advice on trans issues please feel free to ask. I would suggest the society needs a trans officer. I would also suggest this person should be already transitioned and not about to go through the most difficult period of their life.
Once again I'm sorry to do this to you but I hope you'll understand (or try to).
bye,
Zöe