I was never presented with a choice and from earliest memory I have always been gender dysphoric. It is not like one day I consciously decided to try on women’s clothing on a whim, liked it and decided to go with it. No, it was instead something deeply imprinted and primordial that told me where I needed to go.

I explained this to my mother recently and made her recall how the nuns used to slap her left hand when she tried to write with it (frustrated old bitties) and she was forced to use her right. My way of making an analogy she could relate to.

Today I am a very strong believer that one is born transgender (or transsexual if you like). There is no choice in it and all that is left to you is how you are going to respond to something which bristles against the sensibilities of many in society. I explained to my mother how militant I am now and how my age and scars have produced a very strong person; one who is fed up with the stupidity of the world yet is simultaneously very much enamored of the beauty that resides within it.

The entire conversation had begun when she remarked how much her grandson had begun to behave and walk with a gay affectation and I explained to her that he had been suppressing just as I had been for so many years. It fills me with joy to see the LGBT kids have a chance at a fulfilling life from the outset. Even if the arrows will still be aimed at them there is nothing like the honesty of a life lived with a true nature worn like a badge of honor.

We don’t have a choice as to how we are born but we do in the way we react to it.

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  1. What a good analogy that is for the older generation. I know my grandmother was forced to switch, and when my mom went to school, and the teachers told her she had to use her right hand, Grandma went to the school and made sure they understood that her daughter was going to write with her left hand if she wanted to!

    I might mention this to mom sometime.

    "It isn't the world we see, but how we see the world that matters!"


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