Being abused at such an early age had some additional consequences that I needed help to sort through. I remember in 2nd grade, out on the playground telling other kids: “I’m supposed to be a girl and my name is Charlotte.” 2nd grade! Where does that come from out of a 7 year old? I also remember wishing my genitalia would go away and I was a girl. I had vivid dreams about this. I remember this clearly but I didn’t have any idea what to do with these thoughts and feelings. I never wanted to do anything like wear female clothing but I was very confused.
Later, in junior and senior high school, I had a really strong reaction against anything homosexual. I didn’t like my own genitalia. Why would I be interested in anyone else’s? Abuse hurts! But these responses and emotions are pretty normal for teenagers. A high school girlfriend climbed into my sleeping bag once but I was so “conflicted” (I hate that word but sometimes it works) I was paralyzed and my first sexual experience didn’t happen. After that I limited myself, quite happily I might add, to friendship. All of my best friendships were and, to a large extent, still are with females.
As an adult, my responses have crystalized into some seriously neurotic(?) notions. For example, I left the Episcopal Church when Gene Robinson became the first homosexual bishop. I could not cope with that. Homosexuality became the first among all sins. This is really odd given that my overall stance on almost everything is very liberal.
Recently, though, I began to take a look at this within myself. I feel OK with feminine aspects in my personality. I am more comfortable than ever in my own skin and I have, in the view of most, been pretty much OK with femininity as an aspect of who I am all along.
But my interest now took on a whole new level of intensity. In fact, for a couple of months, I would characterize my interest with my own gender identity as obsessive. I wondered for the first time as an adult (remember I had thought of this as a child) whether or not I should be (should have been) a woman. How would life — social, political, economic, etc — feel as a woman? How would my body feel? Breasts? Vagina? And, the crucial question — how would my behavior be different? I thought if I was a female, I’d be a lesbian. In my mind I thought what a relief that would be.
Then, on the way home from work, I turned on the radio and heard an episode of The Moth. The storyteller was Kimberly Reed. Kimberly, the writer and director of a remarkable documentary The Prodigal Sons, said that she’d been the star quarterback on her high school football team in Helena, Montana. That sounded unlikely to me! So I pursued the story. She had gender reassignment surgery. She is a stunningly beautiful woman!
My interest was piqued. I found a book by Jill Davidson, a school counselor in Seattle. She wrote Undercover Girl: Growing Up Transgender. This narrative was more on the “kinky” side to me, aspects that made me uncomfortable. At least it seemed so in the telling.
Another experience. I heard about a story regarding a country-western singer — Chely Wright. She knew she was a lesbian in an industry that would not likely tolerate this. Furthermore, she grew up in the Bible Belt (Kansas) as a conservative Christian. I am certainly no fan of country music! I am reasonably sure that those who are fans already know this story but it is new to me. The documentary, Wish Me Away, deeply inspired me!
In addition to all of this, I found out during a routine blood test that my testosterone level is way below the bottom of normal. I became curious about what my estrogen and progesterone levels might be. I even mentioned it to the nurse when I went in for a testosterone injection. She passed it off: “Those are female hormones.” “Yeah, that’s right,” I said, “forget it.” I’m still curious, though. It wouldn’t change anything.
I was born a male. I am a male. I’ve been married to a wonderful woman for 37 years. I’ve fathered two children. Plus, I’d be one butt-ugly woman!
You and Me and PTSD 