I suppose like most people I don't have many clear memories of my early childhood. However, one does stand out. I have no idea how old I was, but it went something like this. We were going to some family do.
"Mummy, I want to wear a dress."
"Dale, you're a boy, you can't wear a dress."
"But I want to look pretty, Mummy."
"Don't be silly."
The next more vivid memory was just after I turned eight. I had received some money for my birthday - it was common practice in my well-to-do extended family to give monetary gifts.
I'm not sure how I worked this, but I went into a clothing shop and used some of the money to buy myself a pair of girls pyjamas.
I kept them concealed from my parents and that night after I'd been sent to bed, I changed into them. I don't suppose that they a great deal different from my boys pyjamas, but they felt terrific on me.
I walked around, danced and frolicked about before getting back in bed.
I slept in. Mum caught me in my new PJ's.
Dad burnt them in the backyard.
From then on, my room was searched regularly and I was only allowed to have small amounts of money. Any monies I received as gifts were put into a trust fund for when I turned eighteen.
Nevertheless, this event made me realise that I didn't just want to dress-up in girls clothes, I wanted to be a girl. No, that's not right. I was a girl, I was just being prevented from being what I was.
The event also heralded in ten years of misery.
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Saved by a Dress
Short StoryA boy's victory over adversary. It's a transgender story and starts rather grimly with despair, a lack of hope and the emergence of suicidal intentions. The boy works through disengagement and financial constraints to eventually achieve his dream, a...
