On August 13, 1990, I was born a 7 lb 8 oz, baby girl. My parents named me after the both of them, adding an "a" to the end of my dad's name as my first name, while also giving me my mom's middle name. Though my mother wanted so badly to dress her baby girl in lace and frills, once my personality began to show it was undeniable that I was a tomboy. I realize the term "tomboy" is not as acceptable anymore, however that is how I identified for most of my life, so just stick with me. I was raised in a very conservative family, with both sides of my family having close affiliation with two different, very conservative, denominations of the protestant faith. My dad's family is devout Church of Christ, and my mom's family is firmly planted in the Baptist church. Once my mom went back to work after maternity leave, I got to spend a majority of my time with my god-grandparents, whom I adore. My god-grandfather (Paw) was a Missionary Baptist preacher, and his wife (Nanny) is the sheer definition of a preacher's wife. I will mention them many more times throughout this blog, as they played a huge role in my life. Moving on, seeing as my dad was less involved in church and in his faith than my mom was, I was raised in the Freewill Baptist church in which she had grown up. While I was very involved in church and in my faith throughout my childhood and teen years, I also knew that I was different.
I never felt quite like the girls, and though I identified with the boys, I knew I was not like them either. As a kid I loved my baby dolls, but I also loved my hot-wheels, playing basketball, and driving go-karts, four-wheelers, and anything else with wheels and a motor. I always fought to wear more boyish clothes instead of the dresses and bows my mom would try to force onto me. As an only child, I had a lot of time to myself and had no problem entertaining myself, so my imagination grew wild and vivid. When playing "pretend" by myself, I was always "the man" and would go on pretend dates with my imaginary girlfriend, or go "home" (my bedroom or the guest room) to my imaginary wife and our two children (2 of my Lee Middleton dolls). My dad's sister's daughter and I are very close in age, so we played together throughout our childhood. She and I would play for hours at our grandparents' house, from barbies, to riding bikes over dirt hills, to hide-and-seek, and of course, playing house. Whenever I played house, I always took on the masculine role, much like when playing alone. I vividly remember stating that, "One day I'm gonna find me a wife." Which is of course hilarious now, but was terribly embarrassing when I would be reminded of it and teased about it as a kid. Apparently, around 5 or 6 years old, I also told my cousin that I was going to take a pill one day and that pill was going to make me a boy. She never let me live that down. It seemed like every time I saw her at family functions I was going to hear, "do you remember when you told me that you were going to take a pill and become a boy?" As I got older, that became more and more taunting and humiliating to hear as I began to gain a better understanding of myself. On another occasion, I recall playing with my (cis-male) cousins at my house for my 7th or 8th birthday party, as we did frequently since I was close to my mom's brother's sons. We were outside, in the Alabama August heat, and my cousins were running around with their shirts off, so I decided to do the same. I was terribly embarrassed when both my paternal and maternal grandfathers stopped me and said, "You can't do that, you're a girl. You have to wear a shirt." On top of being embarrassed, I was confused and frustrated. I knew I was female bodied and I had noticed the difference in my body compared to other boys. I also knew, and dreaded the inevitable that was the development of my female body.
As I mentioned previously, I had a very conservative, fundamentalist upbringing where Christianity was not only what I was born into, but it was expected. From comments that I recall made by family and fellow church members, they did not consider the Catholic church a "legitimate" faith or sect, and it was assumed that most or all Catholics were "backsliders." I only mention that to highlight some irony, as I am now a proud member of a local United Methodist church that strongly values the Catholic church. I digress... As a pre-teen/teenager, I was definitely aware that I was attracted to women, I had long known that about myself. However, I was not in a position to acknowledge and/or act on my interest in women, as my family and church taught me that homosexuality is "just not right" or that it is "a downright sin." I was never interested in boys/men as more than friends (which I was often considered "one of the boys"), but I did my best to try to be as interested as I could simply because it was "the way things were supposed to be." After a while of attempting to date guys, I remember telling a guy I had been "seeing" that I'm just not interested in him as more than a friend and that I'm actually gay. Before I could even finish that sentence, he said, "I know, you're into chicks. You're just so fun, and like one of the guys. I get it though." As a kid in a society that wasn't quite as open-minded as it is today, and in Alabama of all places, hearing that was such a huge relief. He and I are still casual acquaintances to this day. So, after I came out to that guy, I didn't even try to pretend to date or like any guys, and my parents took notice. In fact, for about 2 years leading up to coming out to my family, I was asked a few times, "are you not into guys?" or "do you like girls or somethin'?" Finally, when I was about 17 years old, I had to tell them. No, literally, I got caught doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing and I had to tell them. They were not happy, and I was not happy with the way I had to inform them of my sexuality. However, as unfortunate the circumstances, I was relieved. (Even though my mother cried for a solid 2 weeks, and my dad ran and told his side of the family.) If I hadn't been shoved out of the closet, I might have never told them or had lost touch entirely so that they wouldn't have found out.
Fast forward a few years to when I was in my late teens to early twenties. I was dating, living on my own, partying, and drinking way too much. Among those I had dated I had a couple of on-again-off-again relationships in particular, one of which caused me to feel incredibly insecure and inadequate, while the other one caused me to feel empowered and overly audacious. Both relationships were unhealthy, however what I took from them both caused so much growth and I will always be grateful for the lessons learned. I had gotten serious about weight lifting and fitness around 19 or 20, and continued to be relentlessly committed to the gym and my body until I was 24 years old. I did about 4 or 5 cycles of anabolic steroids throughout that time. Please note that I did inform my doctor of my steroid use, and he monitored me closely and knew that I was being responsible with my dosage and levels. My voice dropped a bit, and I experienced some other side effects attributed with steroid or hormone use. I loved the physical and psychological changes I was experiencing, but I had not yet let myself come to terms with my being transgender, or even the possibility of it. It wouldn't be until 2 years later that I did come to terms with my gender identity.
Though my devotion (and ridiculous amounts of time) to the gym had lessened, I was and am still very much dedicated to my workouts. However, just before I turned 24, I met the love of my life, Sara, and her two incredible kids. Needless to say, my devotion shifted from the gym to the new family we had stitched together. We dealt with a number of stressful situations and we found ourselves drinking a little more than just causally or socially. Together, we decided to stop drinking entirely. It's pretty incredible the clarity sobriety can bring you. Shortly after we stopped drinking we found ourselves in better positions at work, having gotten several raises and promotions between the both of us, we were eating better, and making more of an effort at the gym, and with each other. I began taking a little more time to focus on and learn more about myself and the things I had been hiding from myself. One of those things, of course, was my increasing interest in my gender/sexuality. I knew I was strictly interested in women, but I had never truly identified as a lesbian. In fact, the term itself nearly made me cringe when it was applied to me. Please understand, I have nothing against lesbians, or the term lesbian. (Sara actually identifies as lesbian.) I simply felt it was not an appropriate label for myself, and I did not like being given a feminine label of any sort. I had always been uncomfortable when addressed as lady, ma'am, miss, woman, etc. I didn't even truly identify with girl, she, her, or hers. I can't exactly explain the feeling that would come over me when I was referred to in the feminine sense, however I hadn't exactly felt as though I had an option. I felt as though that's just how it was, and was going to have to be. I began processing the gradual transition of my wardrobe from women's clothing to all men's clothing. At that point I was only using men's products, wearing only men's clothes, and had been envious of men's haircuts and certain styles for quite a while. I had always appreciated men's style and found myself wanting to sport a dapper look, but never felt quite comfortable enough in society to allow myself to dress and present the way I wanted. I started reading more about gender identity and testimonials of those who are not cis-gendered. Eventually I found myself watching hours of YouTube videos of trans guys who all had different stories, but ones that I could still relate to and identify with. I knew all along that I wanted to live as male, as the guy that I felt that I had always been. I was terrified to have come to the realization that I am trans. I was terrified to tell Sara, even though she loves me endlessly. I was terrified to tell my family (and still am). Would I be fired when I tell my boss? Would my clients respect me?
After about two weeks of having come to terms with my gender identity, it was killing me not to have told Sara. I kept trying to say it, but I couldn't find the words to say. So, I wrote her a letter. I sat, terrified, as she read my handwritten coming out letter. She looked up at me and said, "I know." She hugged me and kissed me, and told me that she had known for quite a while and was waiting for me to come around to it and that she knew I'd figure it all out on my own. She has been so incredible and so supportive, I couldn't ask for more.
Well, that should catch you up to speed for now. I will go into the details of my transition in the next post.
Thanks for reading. Be kind and respect one another.
Eliot
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