My Confusing Childhood
Many people associate transgenderism with a mental disorder called gender dysphoria. Unfortunately, Barack Obama solidified this by labeling gender reassignment issues to be treated by Medicare (surgery, hormones, therapy) only when the "disorder" is labeled gender dysphoria by a psychologist and/or psychiatrist. Many transgendered individuals were happy that they would be covered by Medicare to transition, but I believe that this came at a ver high price, intrinsically, for the transgendered community. Gender identity is not a disorder, disease, or anything that should be associated with illness. Gender identity which does not match your given organs isn't an illness. Behavioral therapist realize that gender is by far more involved than the sex organs themselves. I will demonstrate with some incidents from my childhood which solidified my identity as male.
I can honestly say that if I had never worn dresses as a child I would have never identified as female. My best friend was a boy, and until my mom forbid me to go to his house at age six, I believe that all of my close friends would have been male. Oddly, when I had my first sexual experience, it was with a girl who was 16 (I was seven) and she made me pretend to be a boy and touch her. She also made me put 1/2 of a hosiery container in my pants to simulate a bulge. So ironically, my first sexual experience was me pretending to be male, with a teenage girl, who should have known better than to exploit a child, but that is contrary to the point I'm making. My mom indirectly thrust me into alternative friendships which allowed this to happen. I'm not placing blame, but had I been able to remain friends with my male neighbor, this confusing incident may not have happened.
The oddness of my childhood does not stop there. The first theatrical skit I ever did, was cross dressing as a man for a "9 to 5" skit. I was the sleazy, misogynistic boss, and my cousin was Dolly Parton, who was hypersexualized with balloon boobs, short skirt, & tight sweater. She danced around my desk as I did inappropriate things for a work place, lip syncing to the song "9 to 5." We were both children, and the skit was the idea of my mother and aunt. If this wouldn't leave someone confused, I don't know what would. I even asked, "Why isn't a boy doing the part?" The reply, "It would be better if you did it."
The muddled roots continue when I started playing basketball, and had been elbowed in the breast during a game. I was already not pleased with my budding breasts, and after the injury my mother took me to the doctor to discuss treatment. I was 11 at the time and he said, "We could just remove them, but she won't have breasts as an adult woman." My mother disagreed with this approach, and we left the office, while I just remained completely confused about what just happened.
The biggest mystery from my childhood is my tonsillectomy operation at age 5. I woke up on the operating table and five doctors were at my feet. I don't remember anything after that surgery for a long time except not being able to walk and being carried everywhere. Was I possibly a hermaphrodite at one point? I had to get to the bottom of these questions.
My parents wanted a boy when I was conceived and chose the name Michael, but changed it to the French spelling, Michele, as I was born. Why name a child an ambiguously gendered name if there wasn't already a question of gender? I even questioned my mother about sonograms taken while I was in her womb, and she refused to discuss it with me. If that isn't enough to raise some flags, I don't know what is.
My father, to completely make my ambiguously gendered childhood a further mystery called me, "The son I never had." He also referred to me as "an angel with a broken wing," and many classic paintings depict cherubs as having both sex organs.
Was I once an hermaphrodite? Who knows, but it is easy to see why I was confused about my identity when I was also just as fast, and equally competitive as the boys. I even pursued boys aggressively as I grew older, which is also counter intuitive for a "female brain." If I had been born both sexes this would explain why I excelled at sports, the odd circumstances around my "tonsillectomy," and especially my doctor even entertaining removing my breasts at age eleven.
I just want resolve at this point. The less my parents admit happened or confess to, I should say, just creates more questions. I NEED to transition at this point. Ten years of consideration on my part is long enough, I'm sure.
I can honestly say that if I had never worn dresses as a child I would have never identified as female. My best friend was a boy, and until my mom forbid me to go to his house at age six, I believe that all of my close friends would have been male. Oddly, when I had my first sexual experience, it was with a girl who was 16 (I was seven) and she made me pretend to be a boy and touch her. She also made me put 1/2 of a hosiery container in my pants to simulate a bulge. So ironically, my first sexual experience was me pretending to be male, with a teenage girl, who should have known better than to exploit a child, but that is contrary to the point I'm making. My mom indirectly thrust me into alternative friendships which allowed this to happen. I'm not placing blame, but had I been able to remain friends with my male neighbor, this confusing incident may not have happened.
The oddness of my childhood does not stop there. The first theatrical skit I ever did, was cross dressing as a man for a "9 to 5" skit. I was the sleazy, misogynistic boss, and my cousin was Dolly Parton, who was hypersexualized with balloon boobs, short skirt, & tight sweater. She danced around my desk as I did inappropriate things for a work place, lip syncing to the song "9 to 5." We were both children, and the skit was the idea of my mother and aunt. If this wouldn't leave someone confused, I don't know what would. I even asked, "Why isn't a boy doing the part?" The reply, "It would be better if you did it."
The muddled roots continue when I started playing basketball, and had been elbowed in the breast during a game. I was already not pleased with my budding breasts, and after the injury my mother took me to the doctor to discuss treatment. I was 11 at the time and he said, "We could just remove them, but she won't have breasts as an adult woman." My mother disagreed with this approach, and we left the office, while I just remained completely confused about what just happened.
The biggest mystery from my childhood is my tonsillectomy operation at age 5. I woke up on the operating table and five doctors were at my feet. I don't remember anything after that surgery for a long time except not being able to walk and being carried everywhere. Was I possibly a hermaphrodite at one point? I had to get to the bottom of these questions.
My parents wanted a boy when I was conceived and chose the name Michael, but changed it to the French spelling, Michele, as I was born. Why name a child an ambiguously gendered name if there wasn't already a question of gender? I even questioned my mother about sonograms taken while I was in her womb, and she refused to discuss it with me. If that isn't enough to raise some flags, I don't know what is.
My father, to completely make my ambiguously gendered childhood a further mystery called me, "The son I never had." He also referred to me as "an angel with a broken wing," and many classic paintings depict cherubs as having both sex organs.
Was I once an hermaphrodite? Who knows, but it is easy to see why I was confused about my identity when I was also just as fast, and equally competitive as the boys. I even pursued boys aggressively as I grew older, which is also counter intuitive for a "female brain." If I had been born both sexes this would explain why I excelled at sports, the odd circumstances around my "tonsillectomy," and especially my doctor even entertaining removing my breasts at age eleven.
I just want resolve at this point. The less my parents admit happened or confess to, I should say, just creates more questions. I NEED to transition at this point. Ten years of consideration on my part is long enough, I'm sure.
Comments
Post a Comment