I was born in a small town in ’64. At age 3 my parents knew there was something different about me as I wanted to wear my sister’s pretty clothes and clomp around in mom’s shoes. I wanted everything girly loving purples and pinks.
At age 5 I told my parents I was a girl. That didn’t go over well. Dad took me out to the garage and beat me. Mom called me all kinds of horrid names and told me never mention it again. My dressing like a girl was no longer funny to them. My head was shaved and I was enrolled in school as a boy. I was crushed. The feeling never went away.
At age 11 we moved to a small logging town where transgender was almost unheard of and less accepted. I was again enrolled as a boy. I tried going as a girl and even hiding outfits in my locker and changing when I got to school. My parents were called. Another head shaving and beating. The harassment at school started and I was victimized every day. My mom blamed me for the hard times our family was going through saying dad couldn’t get a job because of me. Those were the most miserable years of my life. Or so I thought.I stayed around the area as it was familiar, working manly jobs but hurting inside.
Dad passed in ’90 leaving me with the job of taking care of a bitter old woman. The name calling continued. After she passed I moved on not really having anywhere to go. My niece and her husband offered me a roof over my head and meals to take care of their home as he was diagnosed with cancer and they needed somebody there. One day my niece finally asked me what was on my mind. I told her everything. She went out and bought me some panties and bra’s and a nice outfit but told me I couldn’t wear them as her husband wouldn’t understand.
I’m living in a small oil production town where the people destroy everything they don’t understand or is different. I finally told my brother on one of his trips this way. He told me to move to Atlanta where he and his wife could help and I can be the person I want to be. He’s making the arrangements now.
I recently went to visit my other brother in San Diego. He learned the hard way that I am transgender as I showed up to his bbq in full dress. He’s had a hard time accepting it but he’s really trying. San Diego was one of the best times I’ve ever had as I ran around almost every day dressed. I wish now I had told them years ago. My brother in Atlanta isn’t quite ready for me so I went back to my niece’s house. I started working in and around the house dressed when I had the chance. A couple guys here tried to destroy me but they have been dealt with.
Life is getting better for me here as people are getting used to seeing the tall lady working in and around the house. The woman inside still scratches at the inside of my skull. I can’t wait to get to Atlanta so I can be myself full time. Just let her out. I’ve been here a couple years now and finally met a lady. She’s been so wonderful and supporting. I think things are finally starting to look up for me. Now I’m 52 years young and feeling the pressure of time.
I guess the moral of the story is ladies don’t wait. Trust in your family and true friends. It might take them a while but they will come around. Be who you truly are on the inside. If you want it bad enough you have to work for it. Life is too short. Dont be a small town girl like me.