“I think I want to be a girl”
I was recently talking with my mom about a woman she’s become friendly with as part of a group she goes to for parents with trans kids. We’ll call her Susan. (I have no idea what her real name is, but I get tired of saying “this woman” over and over again.) Susan has two children: a son – lets say Ben – and a child – lets go with the gender-neutral Casey – who keeps insisting that she’s a girl, even though she was assigned ‘boy’ at birth. Both of her kids are pretty young, definitely not yet in highschool, and Susan has been trying to understand Casey but having a hard time. She was apparently retelling a conversation she’d had recently with her children, in which she had asked Casey, “But why do you like the color pink, playing with dolls, wearing dresses, and don’t want to be called a boy?”
Casey replied, “I just think I want to be a girl.”
Now, from what I’ve heard from my mom, Susan has been trying hard to help Casey be happy, but she is still having a hard time accepting that the child she thought was a son might really be a daughter. Indeed, Susan was holding this response, and specifically the words “I think I want,” as evidence to my mom that Casey wasn’t sure what she wanted. That there was still hope Casey would change her mind and realize she was really a boy.
My mom, in turn, was asking me what I thought.
Obviously I’m not inside Casey’s head. And, as someone who is a decade and a half older than Casey, it’s hard for me to say that anyone can know what they want when they’re 10. But I distinctly remember using the same language in my mind, and even when I came out to my parents. And the use of “I think I want” wasn’t because of any uncertainty of my desire, it was because of my fear of failure.
Because, as early as I can remember having a concept of gender, I knew I would gladly switch bodies with any of my girl friends. There was not a doubt in my mind I’d be happier with the prospect of growing up into a woman rather than a man. I fantasized about magical gender-swapping spells, sci-fi mind-transfer rays, alternate timelines, and even more outlandish possibilities (and I still do…see any of my posts on trans fiction for more on that subject). I had no problem asking, “Why am I not a girl?” or saying “If only I was a girl” or “I wish I was a girl.”
(As a side note, when I was maybe 10, I composed an extremely simple song titled after that last one… In the interest of completeness, and because I’ve probably share more embarrassing things on this blog already, here it is:
Oh I wish I was a girl
A very pretty girl
Oh I wish I was a girl
To-day
To-day
If anyone is simply dying for the tune itself, let me know and I’ll write it out. I still remember it…)
But my lack of composing ability aside, why couldn’t I say “I am a girl” or even “I want to be a girl,” or “I would be happier if I were a girl”?
Because I had thought things through so hard, and knew where they might go. I knew I wasn’t really a girl. I knew that my friends might make fun of me, my family might disown me, and I might end up sad and alone if I expressed these thoughts and desires. I knew if I went on hormones I might end up a horrible he-she that everyone pointed and laughed at. (Or maybe I simply air-quotes “knew” those things, because none of them turned out to be true, even if I still have a hard time convincing myself sometimes.)
I am a horrid comparative shopper – I need to read reviews, do price research, bug my friends, and agonize over every decision. More to the point, I like language to be precise and exact. So I had (and have) huge mental blocks about saying things definitively if I thought there was any chance of doubt. And I had doubts out the wazoo!
Every step of my transition has been driven by the same motivations: I am miserable now, and the thought of doing X might relieve some of that misery. I have had a real hard time actually framing things in terms of the transition making me happier, rather than simply less unhappy. And at every step of the way – going back into therapy, seeing a hormone doctor, going on hormones, increasing the hormone dosage, starting to assemble a wardrobe of women’s clothing, coming out to my bosses, going full-time at work, and on and on and on – has been an agony of indecision.
That is, until I actually do it, at which point (after the panic subsides) I’ve said, “Oh! Why didn’t I do this ages ago?”
Coming full circle, I don’t know if Casey will have the same thoughts looking back when she’s my age. I am tremendously jealous of her for having the guts to speak up and claim her identity years before I did (even though I’ve heard the same thing said to me by older trans men and women). And I obviously don’t know if Casey is ‘really’ trans, or just going through a ‘phase’ (as her mother obviously hopes). But it’s entirely possible that Casey’s phrase “I think I want to be a girl,” which her mom hears as “I don’t know if I really want it, and maybe I don’t,” actually means “I want it so badly that I’m scared it can’t possibly live up to my expectations were I ever to attain it.”
I’ve been trying to write the last sentence as “And to that, I can only say, ‘Don’t worry. It will.’” But my desire for specificity of language won’t let me. So instead, I’ll end with this:
Casey, I can’t promise that you “really” want to be a girl, whatever that means. But I can say that, for me, it’s looking like claiming my identity as a woman just might live up to my lofty expectations.
-R
coming out, family, gender, memory, trans, transitioning
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desire, kids, language, memory, specificity, transitioning
Themocracy
This is how I use to feel as a little boy. Wishing there to be a magic lightning bolt to hit me and make me a girl… And I still wish, hehe now tomorrow I’m going to talk to my mother and see “regaurdless if she approves or not” if she supports this. I have discussed to a counciler about this but by Friday I will speak to a doctor about it. Thank you, simply because you gave me the one thing I needed to give me some confidence. One day I hope not to be known as J but as Alice. =) oh and by the way the ffact that you are 20+ gave me even more confidence because I’m only 14 and I am positive I want to grow up as a girl. Ty
Thank you for stopping by, and for your comment! I’m really glad this post was what you needed to hear. And being online is a good, safe way to start using names you’re more comfortable with – I definitely called myself Rebecca online way before I did so in real life. So please, by all means, go by Alice if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.
I was about 14 when I came to my parents, too. It was kind of anticlimactic, because they were OK with it (they didn’t kick me out or anything) but they also were totally clueless and didn’t know how to help me. I’m glad you’re seeing a counciler who sounds like they’re a little more knokwledgable about trans issues, and hope talking with your mom goes well.
Please feel free to stop by anytime, or email me at blog[at]fridaythang[dot]com if you’d like to chat more.
And good luck! Remember, you deserve to be who you are, no matter what anyone else says.
Thanks =) Me and my mom talked to my doctor he was cool beans and what not about it =P He said the best thing to do is to go see a liscenced *if that’s how you spell it* perfesional and to start from there man… high school sure is gonna be interesting LOL.
Congrats, Alice! That’s great. And yes, a licensed professional is always a good idea. That said, you know what’s inside your head better than a doctor or therapist will – make sure they’re not encouraging you to do something that feels wrong, whatever that means.
And high school is always interesting.
I hope coming out and/or transitioning makes it better than it would have been, though.
Please feel free to drop me a line whenever, and good luck!