First Memories of being TG

I grew up in a pretty conservative family in Sydney Australia. We went to church, first to a presbyterian church, and then later to a baptist church. Apparently when the presbyterian church decided to become a part of the Uniting Churches of Australia, my parents made the decision to stop attending. I don't really know why to be honest. It wasn't like we were overly spiritual. My dad certainly wasn't spiritual in that sense. Or perhaps I should clarify that by saying that my dad wasn't religious. And that would prove to be a bain in my family in later years resulting in the breakdown of my mum and dad's relationship.

My Nanna was religious apparently. She went to an angligan church. The church of England. It's probably the first church I really have memory of to be honest. Though apparently, according to my mum, Nanna wasn't always a church goer. My mum was taken to church by her grandmother when she was a child. Her attention to the Anglican church was recent, though at the time it felt like it was well established.

So, I guess you could say there was somewhat of a christian / religious upbringing. That is what I experienced. Just before I turned 10, my family moved to the United States of America. My father, ever the entrepeneur, decided that there was money to made in selling australian style cakes and pastries. It was a failed exercise for sure. What did I get out of that experience? I learned what it meant to be homesick. I missed Australia in those first months that we were away. We moved in October or around that time. My birthday fell in December.

I remember going out to Farrell's Icecream place on my birthday. In typical american style, they served a free ice sundae to anyone who had a birthday. They also banged on a drum, made lots of noise and fanfare, and sung happy birthday. My problem with that was that I didn't like fanfare, wasn't sold on the idea of icecream, and really didn't want to be the centre of attention. My dad said to me in the car ride home that night something to the effect of "I'm disappointed in you. You won't be getting any more birthday parties".

I did get more birthday parties though. Not true to his word. I have had many birthday parties since. Funny what parents will say to their children. I remember at the time though, swearing to myself that I would never want a birthday party that he threw me anyway.

Some of my memories wouldn't necessarily fall into the category of being "transgendered aware". As a matter of fact, I didn't, and couldn't accept this part of who I was for the longest time. But, I do have memories that "stick out" for want of a better way of saying it. One such memory, one of my earlier ones was remembering that there was a girl in my class in preschool whose name was Holly. I don't remember actually considering her a girl to be honest, because she wore boys clothes. She didn't wear dresses. She wore pants and tshirts. I remember the teacher, on the request of the mother, asking her to put on the dress that she had sent with her daughter that day to school. I don't know if I have that right exactly. We're talking over 30 years ago to be honest. But what I do remember, what does actually stick out was seeing this person having to wear a dress that never did. And seeing her discomfort in that.

Another of my earlier memories was praying to God that when I woke up the next morning that I would be a girl. Pretty standard apparently from what I've heard and read. I remember trying on "prayer" when I was about 5. It didn't particularly work all that well. I remember being on a beach with my father and brother. In the course of events I happened to lose a sock that I thought that I was certainly going to be punished for. I remember falling asleep that night praying that God would bring the "sock" back. He didn't. I remember also praying that I would wake up and He would have turned me into a girl. He didn't. I remained a boy for a long time to come. And I had to learn how to cope in that.

My mum's clothes fascinated me when I was young. I am not sure exactly what it was about those clothes, but I just liked women's clothes. My aunt put some old clothes aside for her children and when I was at their house I used to play dress ups. I loved that. I remember asking my mum if she could do the same. She said she would, but never did. I remember asking her a few times after my initial request, only to be told that she was "getting to it". I learned later that it was her way of "non confrontationally" dealing with something that she didn't want to deal with. I am not sure that she actually remembers that occurance. Perhaps the memory is mine and mine alone.

I remember also, at one time, playing a role playing game with my male cousin who was about 10 months younger than me. We played mum and dad, and I was the mum. It didn't mean much, other than the label now that I recall. I think, for me, it was not really knowing "what to do next". I just knew that I wanted to be a girl. I had little idea of what that meant, or how I should behave.

Another time, I remember watching an episode of Here's Humphry. Humphry got to dress up as a ballerina. I loved the idea of that. I think I was at school when that episode aired because all I could remember for weeks after that was trying to stay home again to hopefully see it happen again.

When I was about 8 or 9, I'm not exactly sure when it was, I remember going into the third bedroom in our house. This bedroom was specifically for when my Nanna and Da came to visit from Nowra. It wasn't really used at any other time. My brother Mal, and I, shared a bedroom for the first ten years of my life. There was a big wardrobe in the bedroom that was stacked with all sorts of things. I have been told that I was a nosy kind of child. I must have been bored that day, because I went looking in this room, where I can't honestly say I ever really ventured in much when my Nanna and Da weren't staying with us. The robe had two sections, and in the section furthest from the door, I saw them. Two girl's dresses. Thinking back on this, it must have been significant because I didn't see girl's dresses in my house. I had only a brother, and no sisters. I remember looking at the dresses, tentatively touching them. They felt amazing.

For days to come when I was alone in the house, or when I was sure that I could get away with it, I remember sneaking into the room and just looking at the dresses. They were amazing. They were breathtaking. My recollection was that one was a darker colour, and one was lighter. I think the lighter one may have been a pale violet. I was to find out later that these dresses had been my mum when she was a flower girl in her own childhood. As much as I loved the look and feel of them, I never put them on. I knew that I just shouldn't do that. I think a part of that was knowing that it was wrong, and a part of it was almost wanting to preserve my "discovery" and leave them perfect.

When I was in Kindergarten, I remember looking at the uniforms that the girls wore, and wishing that I could wear them as well. I wanted the teacher to say that all the boys and girls were to swap uniforms. I wished that. I wanted it to happen. And interesting enough, may I say, that those uniforms were rather boring little tunics. There was really nothing pretty about them per se, it was just the idea of being able to wear something that was girl-associated, and not boy-associated.

In Grade 1, I remember one of my teachers, I think she was a student teacher. She was young and very pretty. She used to wear pretty clothes; dresses and stockings. I remember her attempting to teach us exercises one day in the playground. She made a comment to the class that she couldn't show us everything because she was wearing a dress. I just recalled thinking that I wanted to be her.

When I was young, and before I went to preschool, I remember going out for the day with my mum, and she was putting lipstick on. She looked at me and put a little on me. It was nice to be able to do that. When I think back now, I wonder if it was just chapstick. I couldn't really tell. Perhaps it was. It certainly does seem very much out of character for my mum to do something like that.

It's easy to question those memories; to wonder if they ever did in fact happen. Even reading back over them now, I wonder. In moments of weakness and doubt, and impossible not to wonder. But then that's probably the foundation of being transgendered; it's studded with moment's of weakness, self doubt. This is a confusion of identity.