I knew I was really a girl by the time I was 3 years old.
2 of my cousins were about that same age when they knew too.
It turned out that my grandmother had several miscarriages, as did my mom and my aunts. In addition my Grandmother’s brother was thin and had a high squeaky voice, so we may have had androgen insensitivity.
One of my cousins killed himself when he was 11. Another killed himself when he was 14. I miraculously survived numerous “accidental overdoses" of valium, brandy, pot or opium, and Cloratrematon, drinking a pint of liquor on antabuse, eating a quarter pound of ground glass, walking drunk down the double yellow lines of a four lane road, and sitting on the bridge over I25.
Both my cousins and I were transgender girls. We had been bullied for being sissies. I was assaulted over 3,000 times including over 60 hospitalizations.
We tried to tell our parents. The only person who didn’t try to hurt us was out grandmother. Grandpa told us we were going to hell and tried to send us away. David’s parents tried to ignore him and tell him he was a boy, whether he liked it or not. His father was a veterinarian, so it wasn’t hard for David to give himself the same shot used to put dogs down. He lived just long enough to finish his suicide note.
Mark’s father was a jock and very religious. Because of David’s death, Mark’s parents sent him to a Christian psychiatrist who tried to “cure" the gender psychosis with shock and drugs. Mark was taking Lithium every day for a few months before he drank the pint of vodka. H lived long enough to write his suicide note.
My mother had been in a psych ward, so she tried to get me help. After all those beatings, it took weeks of daily sessions and Morse code to be ale to tell him “I am a girl". HIs response stunned me, “We know, but we can’t talk a out that". Over the next two years, he taught me to hide my emotions, to joke when I was hurting, and to hide my femininity.
I was later misdiagnosed as epileptic because I was trying to overdose. I ended up in a psych ward and then in an outpatient program 6 hours a day, 6 days a week, for 6 months. When I told them about eating the glass chips 4 days after the event, they asked me why. When I told them I wanted to live as s girl, they told me to stop talking immediately. If I had persisted, they would have locked me up and pumped me full of Haldol.
It took 30 years to find someone who would listen.