First years

I was born in México City in 1964, yes…the country which is well known by charros and men on horses. At least in that season they were still on fashion.  On cinema and TV the biggest stars were Pedro Infante y Jorge Negrete, although they already had died by this year, they remained in the mind of many mexican people and my parents too.

My father had a son, David, with his first wife, but she died when my half brother was born, so my father had to take care of him by himself. It took  two years before my father met and married my mother. They had four children: the first one, Simon, was three years younger than David, a year later my sister Juana was born and after two years more I did.  Five years later, my youngest sister was born. I’ll call her Maria. My father always liked to play the guitar and he sang tipical songs. His father was the music teacher in his town and the director of the town band. That’s why my father could learn something about music instruments. Despite he was a farmer, he went to school and lerned to read and whrite.  Later, when my father came to the big city, he could get jobs easily because he was good with mathematics and reading books.          

My father worked as a Production Manager in a drug factory and my mother was a housewife, but she also sold some things in her free time. They made as much money  as possible to afford at least a house, food and clothes. Despite the poor conditions, I would say that we lived much better than the rest of the people in the neighborhood.     

My mother was descended from European. I knew that her father was a German man’s son whose father was killed, so when he grew up, he was very poor and illiterate. Her mother was a French People’s daughter.  Her family lost their money in gambles  and became poor and the new generations also illiterate.   

The neighborhood where I was born was very well  known as very  poor and for its low education. There were some immigrants from around the globe and from the rest of the country. In this quarter everybody spoke with an especial accent, so it was difficult to identify whether a person was from here or not.  It was not rare to find people very different:  white, yellow, etc. The surnames  helped you to know that there were foreign  origins, for instance, my mother last name was French.

We didn’t have many friends here because my parents didn’t like the people from this place.  There were many thugs, muggers and drug addicts in the neighborhood, so my parents avoided them as much as possible. 

An extrain message

I waked up one night, maybe at midnight or later, everybody were sleeping in the old house and I realized that the light was on.

" The light is on!" , I yielded, but nobody heard me. When I was about to speak again a voice interrupted me. I couldn’t hear exactly where the voice came from. I thought It came from the light.    

"Come here, come here with me" the voice said and sounded like  echo.

“What is this voice?",  I wondered. I was a four years old boy and I just thought that it was related with God and Devil.  My parent told me that they were in some place where I couldn’t see them.  They were the kings of goodness and badness, so I assumed that the voice might have been the Devil because God did not do bad things.  

My father was a catholic man who had read the whole Bible and he taught us his religion. He had many religious images in the house, one of them I liked very much, because Jesus Christ seemed to see you wherever you were.

" Who are you?",  I asked the voice.

" Come here, come here with me",  the voice repeated again.

Nowadays I would die frightened due a voice like that, but I was too young to understand what was happening. 

" No, I don’t want to",  I answered.

It never explained what it wanted  from me. 

" Well, then  you will suffer a lot",  the voice finished.

I did not understand why my brother sleeping beside me did not hear anything, he seemed a stone.  I forget about the voice and slept again.

I have always wondered what that voice was. No one else heard it, and nobody heard me. Maybe I lost my mind for a moment or maybe it was just a dream. I do not know, and there is no way to find out what happened that night, but I can say that I remember that experience as something real and I would like to have an explanation.

During all this years in my life, I have achieved good things but also I have been in tough times as well. I like to solve problems and I almost always  can find a solution. However, my life has became more struggled little by little. Therefore, I have decided to publish my bio, so I can help and join people struggling the same problem:  Gender Identity.

Nowadays, I think that maybe that voice, if it was real, could have  been God.  But... why he?;  If God doesn’t do bad things. I think that he tried to avoid that I lived with such a problem during my whole life.   Some time God makes some mistakes, for instance Down boys,  Siamese twins, etc.

Despite that the majority of people may not understand that a child could have been born as a boy but his mind is female, some serious research have found that two or three persons into one thousand have this problem.  When I was 35, a sexologist diagnosed that I suffer from  this disorder.  However, I invite you to read my whole bio and give your   own opinion.

Life can be a hell while your fisical gender  is  different from  your mind. You can feel that you are acting in front others but you don’t know why.  Sometimes I have regret not doing what that voice asked me to do.  Maybe I would have finished on time this unpleasant life.

The first inconsistencies

I always thought that my life was normal during the first years of my childhood; I played with my two brothers and my sister. I was around  five.  I played the most with my sister Juana, whose age was not too different from mine,  seven years old. For me it was normal to play with anybody,  the gender was not a problem for me.

Once, a sister’s friend came into our house to play with her and I join them too. I do not remember exactly what game we played. I think we were jumping a rope. I paid too much attention to their skirts. I stared at their legs and their female socks and shoes. Their clothes looked very good but my pants were awful. I think this was the first time I wanted to look like a girl. Of course, I knew something was wrong with me, but I felt an incredible attraction to wear  those clothes  until the next day.  I did not go to school yet but my brothers and my sister did, so I was in the house with my mother the next morning but she had to go out to buy something. Then, when I was utter alone in the house, I took my pants off and  looked for a skirt and some female socks.  I found the socks but instead of a skirt I found a piece of fabric that I wore as a skirt. I saw pleasantly how it looked like. Suddenly I heard that the front door was opened, therefore I took  the socks and the piece of fabric off and I hurled them away. It was my father who worked to close and asked me " Where's your mom?.

"I don’t know"  I told him and I tried to explain why my pants were beside my bed: "I took my pants off because I wanted to sleep", I said. My father barely paid attention to me and asked me to tell my mother that he had come home.

I started to study at school when I was six and my life seemed to me like normal except for that incident. In 1970 I met many boys and girls at school but I do not remember filling physical attraction to them and I had never had to worry about that.

By this time my mother wanted to earn additional money. For this reason, she studied to become a nurse and later she started injecting medicine and saline solutions to the sick people in the neighborhood.  She also sold beauty articles (AVON) by catalog.  One day  I saw one picture at the front of one of these catalogs and I felt myself very attracted to the way three women looked like. They were  wearing fashion skirts just a little bit below their knees.  I again had  the same felling: I wanted to know how it felt dressing like that. Therefore, one day I hided myself, that was what I thought, and  I took  my mother’s brown skirt  and I tried it on over my pants. Suddenly, I heard my brothers speaking, so I took the skirt off very quickly. I went out of that room and I decided to go with my mother to the next room. I found everybody there talking and laughing about something else.  I felt myself more confident, so I backed to the place I was before and again I tried the skirt on, but this time I took my pants off to watch how it looked like. Unfortunately, I hear another noise and I could glanced it was my brother David who was peering at me through a gap in the door. He ran to the next room and told everybody what he saw. I changed my clothes as soon as posible and I went behind him. When I got with them they asked me: " Is it true that you were wearing a skirt?"

" No, It’s a lie",  I denied it.

I am not sure that they believed me, but I think that they did not realize the importance of this issue, after all, I was just a little boy.

The dress

Time passed and I was already eight when again It happened to me to  have  female feelings. I had not had another experience like the skirt I described before,until one day  when I was playing with my brothers and my sister hide-and- seek. There was a big basket for clean and dry clothes that sometimes were to half, therefore it was one of the favorite hiding places for everybody.  I remember, at least a pair of times, finding some nylon stockings inside the basket  that attracted my attention. Despite it was dark inside I could feel the clothes with my hands and the stockings were so smooth that  I could not resist  feeling their texture in my feet. Then I took  my shoes and socks off and tried on the stockings. Once  they almost found me doing this before I had got rid of the stockings, after that  I tried to be more careful.

One day I found a flowered dress with a flounce. It was nice and I had seen many girls wearing that kind of dresses, I think they were fashioned. I liked very much how the girls looked like with a dress like that one. Of course, this dress belonged to my sister Juana, but it was not her size any more. I could see it  was exactly my size. I left the dress where I had found it and waited until I were alone in the house  to try it on.  Many days passed and I never had any time alone so I decided to go to a place in the house where almost  always nobody were there, a kind of warehouse.  That day just my mother and I were in the house, therefore I thought it was the perfect time to do what I wanted, what is more, what I did not resist doing.So,  I took the dress and walked up that ‘warehouse’, then I took all my clothes off  and tried the dress on.  It was a little difficult to zip the back but I did it. Due there were no mirrors in that place, I looked  directly at myself and I started  spinning to see the shape I made with the dress. I enjoyed this time very much, actually, it was the first time that I dressed utterly as a woman.

I wanted to go out and walk in the streets because I wondered whether I could be seen as a girls or not. Of course I would not asked the people if they thought whether  I was a boy or a girl. I just wanted to know if I could have walked in the streets without problems as a normal girl, but my mine stopped me. I thought that a neighbor could see me and teased about me, so I better forgot the idea.

Suddenly  I heard   my father’s voice approaching this ‘warehouse’ and another voice from a friend of his. They entered into the room  and they talked for a long time. I hid myself  with my dress on and my boy clothes aside for almost half an hour, then I began to think that they could move where I was instead of going away. I was afraid, so I slowly change my clothes, left the dress aside  and went out there. My father were surprised and  asked me what was I doing there and I just answered "nathing" and I fled.

I left my father talking to that gay as if nothing had happened. “Huff, I’m safe again!” , I thought.

Rejected

At the age of eight I felt that others boys rejected me without a reason. I think that maybe it was due  I was different from others, I mean,  I just could be different physically or maybe my behavior was not accepted. There must have been something in me that others did not like. Some of my classmates also had a  similar problem but I thought that I was the most rejected of all.

In those days there were many government primary schools which were only “for boys” or ”for girls” and in the other schools that were  for both (girls and boys) there were also groups only “for boys” or ”for girls” . I, of course, had to be in the groups of boys. I have always thought that this way to mange a school makes boys more violent. I would have liked to be in a group of girls.

One day the teacher go out from the classroom for several hours,  as many others irresponsible teachers  used to do.  It is a pity that the children lose a lot of hours just because all the teachers are joined to a union, so they think that they can earn money without working. Just some of them have a vocation of teachers. Then, I was sitting in my chair when a boy took one of my notebooks and run away. I had to stand up and ran behind him. I had not reach him yet when other boys join toghether and strated to bother me, suddenly I was surranded by many boys who shoved me and did not let me out of a circle. I got desperate and beg them to let me out but after some seconds it was all the group again me. I fell in the floor crying but they continued striking  me.

There were countless times that  bullies bothered or struck me. I do not know why they made groups just for boys.  Some boys were very older than the rest of the group due they failed many years at school. Many of them were bullies and abuse of younger child. At least two time they tried to abuse of me, fortunately  they did not achieve it.  I hated every body. Maybe this was the reason I began to loath men.

I had not too many friends at school. Just some of the boys who were less violent became my friends.

The nails

My sister Juana started painting her nails around ten. I was eight by then.  Having their nails painted is something, I think so, is allowed to all the girls. One day she was painting her nails when I approach her to stare how she did it. I do not remember whether I asked her to paint my nails or she suggested it, but she paint them with red varnish, then we enjoy together watching our hands because they looked vary female. We could not believe that my hands looked more female then hers. Before the varnish of my nails dried, she ripped it off  with acetone. Maybe she felt more uncomfortable than me because my parents were over there, but I felt more confident because she was with me. I was not alone. Actually  I think that my parents saw what we were doing, but they did not care.

After a while she painted again my nails because she said that she wanted to see again whose hands looked more female.  We compare again and the result was the same, my hand looked as if they belonged to a woman. I  looked happily the red color on my nails. " Wait until the varnish drieds", she said. I accepted her suggestion without doubt. I think that I kept my nails painted until the next day. I am not sure whether I ripped the color off due I my brothers teased of me or because I had to go out. Otherwise I would let it forever.

First fantasies.

It is normal that children have sexual fantasies, for example many boys fell in love with their teachers.  My brother Simon told me that  he had seen a picture in a magazine of a woman who wore a sexy low neck blouse which were in fashion in those years. Since then, he began to collect magazine with pictures of naked women. He was very young when he bought his first male magazine.  Women showed their breast but the magazine were too censured by then, actually Playboy was allowed for selling in Mexico after many years later.

I was nine when I had my first fantasy. I had some idea of what  sex meant becouse children at school talk about that and sometimes my brothers too.  I think that my imagination  or maybe the basic instinct did the rest.

I would like to know more about fantasies of girls and  transsexual. I have found too little about this. Any way I think them should not be too different from those that I wrote here.

I imagined that I fled from my home wearing a dress and woman shoes, then a family  would found me alone in the streets, and decided  to  adopted me as their daughter.   I would lived in that family as a girl but I had to do something to hide my sex. Now I know that this is a stupid idea, but I thought that if I would have pressed very strongly my penis with my finger, it had sank in the body so it had left a hole which looked like a vagina. Living as a woman in that family I would played  with other children and I would  found a boyfriend. He should have  been hansom and  taller than me with dark hair.  After that, I would invited him to my home while my other parents  were not at home, so, due I would had a “fake vagina”,  we would made love.

Many times I thought about this fantasy, I do not know why, but I think that many girls might think in having sex with an imaginary boyfriend when they are around nine or ten. Actually they play with dolls that have a boyfriend, for example Barbie has  Ken. Also princess have boyfriends (“blue prince”)  in fairytale.

Other fantasy came up one day when  I heard my dad talking to my mother about a day that he attended the theatre and saw how a singer woman was bothered and abused by the people. He told her that she  was  surrounded by “fans” when she went out of the theatre.  Those kind of artist could not aford a bodyguard, at least in those years, maybe, they were not used to do  it. Just some very well paid artist could afford hiring a bodyguard. "People surrounded her" he said, "everybody were men and things went out of control, then they began to pull her clothes and tore her dress. A friend of mine who went with me could get a piece of her dress. At the end, the police came to help that woman".

I imagined this woman surrounded by very excited men tearing her clothes. My imagination flew and I saw how those people tore everything until she got complete naked. I imagined  that the woman was raped for all the men but she enjoyed it  instead of rejected them. 

In this fantasy I did not played the role of a rapist, what is rare, is that I enjoyed thinking that I was the  woman who was raped.

La imagen de macho

I also was influenced by the movies that I watched on T.V. about macho men, so I project myself image as a macho too. Around the age of ten, I imagined that I wore hat and a 'charro' suit. Those ‘machos’ have a girlfriend, so I thought that I had to have a girlfriend too.  Then I search between friends because at school there were only boys and I choose one that was almost my age as an imaginary girlfriend. I never asked that girl if she  wanted to be my girlfriend, I just dreamed that she was my girl but I did not even imagined that I had sex with her. Maybe this was not a sexual fantasy, maybe it was just an imitation of what a saw on T.V. I had this thoughts mostly when I got angry with my brothers or my parents. I thought that if I were a 'macho' other people could respected me.  I also  wanted to go away from my home when I angry with my parents.  

In the town where my father was born a religious party is celebrated every year. In this season of the year my father used to take us to his town where himself collaborated in the celebrations.  In this town men wore charro clothes, so It motivated the thoughts of being a kind of macho man, who ride a horse, use a gun an wore a big hat.

Goodbay Dad

My dad suffered from diabetes since, maybe he was therty or yonger.  I assume that he inherit this disease from his parents, due all his brothers and sisters suffered from the same disease. My grandparents died when they were very young yet. Nobody knows what was de cause of theirs death. My dad did not talk too much about this, and there were not doctors neither documentation of the reason that caused de death of people in his town.  This must have happened in the early forties when there were not even telephone in those remote places or there were very few.  When my grandparents died, my dad was the oldest of seven brothers and three sisters. The youngest one were around two or three years old, therefore my grandparents must have died around forty.

When my grandparents died, my father had to be in charge of the family and did his best to support everybody. They had to come to live to the city and worked in almost anything. But despite this he became a manager in a drug company. 

In 1974 the health of my dad turn worse, so my mother had to take care of him and she distracted from her normal activities. Frequently my dad had to be hospitalized because this issue. His sight was becoming worse every time. By the end of that year he was unable  to work but we survive  because the Social Security Institution supported him.

I had always thought that he would recover his health because he followed the treatment and took every days the pills. But the next year thing became worse than before. His kidneys stopped working and he had to be on dialysis every two weeks and later every week.  One day he was at the back garden of the house looking for the door to enter into the house.  I think that he felt so badly about having lost his sight that he never told anybody that he was blind, but that day we realised that fact.

On september 18th of 1975 my mother was called from the hospital because my dad was very ill. So, she run out and came back around twelve o’clock in the morning while I was playing behind the house. Suddenly I saw my sister crying and  told me: "My dad has died".

It was too hard to hear that, so I run into the house and I saw my mother caring the clothes that my dad was wearing when he had gone to the hospital. My mother confirm the bad news. I went to a corner of the room and  sat there for a while cring too.

The other day in the graveyard I had a terrible sensation that something would happen after ten years. I never told anybody about this, I did not even thought it was important. I  thought that I  was just angry  because my dad had died. Believe or not, in the year of 1985 on the same date the most powerful earthquake that anybody ever recalled occurred in Mexico City.