The Whys?
Why do I want to be a woman? Why me?
There used to be a time when "the whys" would torment me. This gender thing never made sense to me. I was born and raised in southwest Missouri, almost the Ozarks. I am the oldest of 5 children. I grew up in a home with both of my parents. My hometown had a population of between 3,000-3,600 while I was growing up. I was in church--and usually of my own free will--every Sunday. I never suffered any physical or mental abuse. I wasn't even a sissy! I was never too interested in sports, but I loved riding my bike, riding my skateboard and exploring with the guys. My closest male friends were either jocks or avid fans. I never experienced any sexual abuse or traumatic experience which I could relate as a causal factor in my desire to be a woman.
I can remember the desperation with which I tried to discover or recall something, anything that would help me understand why. Perhaps if I understood why, I could fix the why and just be normal. You see, in southwest Missouri boys don't wear dresses. They don't want to grow up to be mommies. Huh uh! That just ain't right!(sic)
Furthermore, if I had a why, then maybe I could explain it to other people so they would understand. Oh, it wasn't in the 11th or 12th grade that I became aware of my feelings. No that's not the way it typically happens for a TGirl.
My first recollection of enjoying women's clothing was hiding in my mom's closet (while playing hide 'n go seek with my younger brother, Andy). I would stand amongst her dresses and skirts smelling her perfume. My feet would be inside a pair of her shoes. They were a maroon pair of pumps. I remember thinking, "I wish I had some neat shoes like these." This would have been in the early mid 60's. My dad, who is a blue collar kind of guy, wore heavy steel-toed shoes--I knew that those weren't for me. But, I sure liked Mom's.
I first recall a particularly strong association with girls going as far back as the first grade. It was far more fun, to me, to hang out with them and swing on the playground then it was to play and trade cars with the boys. I envied the cute lunch boxes that the girls carried to school, thinking the boys' boxes were to adult or something--certainly not suited for me.
I remember this funky shirt I had gotten in the (mind you this is now the early 70's) 3rd grade which had some sort of silly medallion on a necklace embossed around the collar. I thought it was really pretty.
In the 4th grade I had one of the most vivid and tormenting experiences of my childhood. Somehow, I had dreamed that I either was or became a girl in my class named Denise. One item of clothing that I remembered wearing of hers in the dream was a pair of white tennis shoes which had some navy blue trim around the strings--much like saddle oxfords. When she wore those to school, I would be visually confronted with the clothing that I had worn as a girl. I found it very disturbing and didn't like being around her when she wore them. She later became a dear friend in junior and senior high school, but never learned about Joyce until we were in our early 30's. I've not discussed these feelings with her, but I understand through a mutual friend that she was bothered by learning of my orientation.
It was around the 4th grade that my preoccupation with being a girl began. I actually remember keeping notes in a journal of how to be a girl--noting such things as what they wore, what they talked about, and how they moved. I haven't a clue what ever happened to my journal, but I sure wish I had it right now--so I could share all of those mysteries with you.
More of this article is on the way. Please be patient and return again soon. Thank you so much for understanding!
This page last updated November 24, 1998.
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