Growing Up Trans - Highschool, Year 3

[dolari]

Growing Up Trans Chapters:
Preschool - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238402.html
Elementary School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238626.html
The Nightmare of Fifth Grade (NSFW, and a bit TMI) - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2238939.html
Middle School - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239155.html
Highschool - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html

Junior year was a year where everything changed (again), and reshaped my life, putting me on a set course to where I am today.

Over the course of the spring, I'd realized I was pouring my soul into this character who was calling herself Jennifer, and that I was still unhappy - I was just making this character unhappy instead of me. And...well...I didn't like making her that unhappy. I decided to own up to who I was, instead of misdirecting to someone else, fictional or not. Again, our names changed.

I'd always thought of myself as two people - Me, and The Girl in the Mirror. More and more, the Girl in the Mirror was less the reflection in the mirror, but an ideal version of me. The one who was always born female. While I began opening up and seeing my physical self more and more as a woman stuck in this body, making do with what she had.

My name remained Marlene. The girl in the mirror was Jennifer.

And if you'd like to know what that ideal girl-in-the-mirror looked like, you've probably seen her many times already. She's Allison in Closetspace. (And Carrie is what I'd want to look like if I had control over every single gene in my body, but that's not gonna happen until nanobots rule the planet).

Sometime in my freshman year, I'd joined the Cartoon/Fantasy Organization, a group of geeks who enjoyed anime. I'd been a member of that group for about a year when several of our overseas penpals began shipping videotapes to us containing a novel little series called Ranma � (this was how we got anime back in the dark ages of the late 80s).

For those of you who have been living under a rock for the last 30 some years, Ranma � is a Japanese anime about a boy who falls into a cursed spring where a woman drowned. Anyone falling into that pool when hit with cold water afterwards turns into a woman. Dad turns into a panda. Rival turns into a piglet. Assasin turns into a duck. Temptress into a cat . And one guy turns into a wierd bull, bird, thing mixture and then named "Pantyhose." Maybe it's just me being trans, but I think Ranma got the better end of the deal.

I began getting every episode of the series from my contact at the C/FO. Seeing someone living my dream, even if it was one full of people trying to kill each other, random desrtuction, and people trying to smash each other with heavy blunt objects comically. After the first season, the tone of the series changed, and frankly, I didn't like it, but I kept recording - simply because he could do what I couldn't.

My parents went on a trip to San Francisco that summer, and my sister went with them. Not only did I have a week all to myself to be a girl, but I actually got them to go to Books Kinokuniya and pick up a whole mess of the Ranma manga for me. Now I could even take them with me to school.

The San Francisco trip was a full week in summer. I spent nearly the whole week as a girl, but within the confines of my own home...and only in rooms where the windows didn't peek out onto the streets. I was desperate, still, to keep my secret from my family. And yet, it was the best week I'd had. I was happy, content, and didn't feel sad or dark.

A quick aside, you may be wondering why I was so damned determined to keep my trans-ness from my family. At this point, I'd rather not say anymore than I already have in previous posts over the years. My immediate family currently know what I've done, and we're on good terms. I'd rather not dredge up bad feelings and risk a protacted silence spell again if I can help it. If you're having issues with your family, and want to know what I went through to see if it can help you - EMail me. We'll talk.

Junior year started up and I was now in a creative writing class. I had no idea, but the girl sitting behind me would become one of my best friends, and the first person to know of my secret. In fact, this was the year that I began spilling the beans...voluntarily and involuntarily.

Steph and I had a mutual friend, and all three of us were artists. We began talking when I left sketches out on my desk, and quickly became fast friends. Which isn't to say the person behind her was a fast friend. In fact, he was a jerk named "Doogie." And yes, he looked like Doogie Houser. He spent most of the year trying to put me in my proper place as someone who was born to be beneath him, and generally being a tool. I bottled it all in...I had my dad's explosive temper, and it's kind of scary. But bottling it up just made me angrier as it continued to happen.

So I punched a pillar at school after a particularly bad day with him. Messed my hand up pretty good, but no broken bones. Just some scratchy lacerations and a tiny bit of blood. Steph asked me what happened, and I mentioned that I was angry, and punched a pillar. She turned to another girl sitting next to her. "Why do boys aways do stupid things like that?"

Those words cut like a knife. I wasn't a boy. I just looked like one. Just another reminder that I wasn't what I wanted to be.

And I'd had enough.

I asked her to meet me after class outside, I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know my exact words to her, but they boiled down to "What you said hurt me badly. I'm TS. I'm not a guy, I'm a girl, and I'm stuck in here."

I do remember her response, though: "Yeah, I know. 'Bout time you told me."

And the walls fell down. First it was Steph. Then it was Amy, another girl who would eventually become another best friend. And they both took it upon themselves to teach me how to be a girl, since I wasn't doing a good job of it, and they had a few decades of experience at it.

Steph began to smuggle clothes to me. The first was that bright teal sports bra I showed a few days ago, my first real article of female clothing that was mine. Her mother would continue to send clothes to Goodwill, where Steph would intercept it, and send it my way. Anything that didn't fit, continued its journey to Goodwill.

My very first public outing as a woman was with her - ironically to see "The Crying Game." She gave me hints and tips on how to move and act more female. She did my hair, showed me how to use makeup. And, both she and Amy taught me to not be a Pretty Princess, something I thank them for everytime I see a transwoman shopping for groceries in a outfit fit for tea with the queen.

And after I told them both who and what I was...they never ever questioned it. I was a girl in their eyes. I just needed some refinement. One of those refinements was a nickname.

I was flipping between Jennifer and Marlene as my name at the time. I wasn't sure which one I wanted, yet. Jennifer was still this ideal, Marlene was still me. When Steph asked me what my name was, I told her it was Jennifer (the name that felt right at the time). Afterwards, she never called me by my given name again - I was always Jennifer. At least for about a week. Then she started calling me Jenn. Why? "Well, if you let your hair grow out, you'd kind of look like She Hulk. And her name is Jen. And you look like a Jen."

I don't know where the extra "N" came from, but while I still flipped between names, it was now Jenn and Marlene.

I know both Amy and Steph read my posts, so I want to take the time right now to tell them both thank you. You really made me so happy during those early years.

But every silver lining has a cloud. I'd had a streak of good luck not being caught by my folks, and that came crashing down. I wasn't caught at what I was doing. It's just...all those clothes had to go SOMEWHERE. The box I had was hidden away in a closet. Which turned into Boxes. Which began to hide under my bed. And then under my desk.

And finally Mom caught on. And she was not happy. Not happy at all.

She and I had a dinner at China Moon, where she proceeded to ask me how long this was going on, who knew. Again, I won't go too into it as it was a long time ago and things are better now, but it was the beginning of a rapidly deteriorating relationship that would see me leave the state to make progress becoming who I needed to be.

I begged her not to tell Dad, which looking back, was a serious mistake. Hindsight's 20/20, you know. Not only would he'd become a reluctant but willing ally in the future, but I'd asked my mom to keep a secret from a loved one, something that probably aided in the souring of our relationship. Sorry, mom, I was a jerk about that. I just didn't know how he'd react.

Either way, the secret didn't last long, and my father got wind of it...and I'd never seen the old man so sad. We were a very loving family. Dad was a real sweetheart. Mom was diligent, but fair. Seeing what had happened to us, hurt me badly, and I knew things would never be the same between us.

Comments

[amw.livejournal.com]

I never knew the short form came from She Hulk. That's cool :) She had a really good run a few years back with Dan Slott. I think PAD did a few arcs too, though his were less quirky.

[jenndolari.livejournal.com]

This was about the time that John Byrne was writing the series, and Shulkie was totally aware that she was in a comic. That was my fave She Hulk. :)

[(Anonymous)]

what incredible grace. it might not have felt that way at the time, but this reads like grace. there is incredible beauty in the telling of it, too. I'm so grateful to be reading it, to have a glimpse at what this experience is like. Thank you for sharing.