![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolariGrowing up Trans - Entering a Whole New World.
Growing Up Trans - High School, Year 4.
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
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html
I wanted to move out to begin The Plan as soon as I could. My parents were more interested in getting me into college. But we both agreed on one aspect of The Plan (even though I'd never told them what that plan was) - therapy.
I'd already seen a therapist once, who pinged that there were some kind of gender issues going on. But my own secrecy kept him from going any farther. Secrecy was no longer an issue, so I agreed with them to see a therapist. My dad sent me to a VA therapist (Dad being a Vietnam War veteran). Ho boy.
That second therapist had no idea what to do with me. Not a single thing. I gotta give him credit - he tried. He really tried. But he seemed seriously wierded out by the situation, and incredibly embarassed by it. After a few sessions, he said "You're probably a good candidate for all this...why don't you go to some of these support groups for more help?" That was the last time I saw him - but he'd given me a ton of gold: Other People Like Me.
Or, at least, close to what I was.
I called every single support group that next day. To be fair, the VA therapist gave me every support group he could find. Sadly, he didn't research them very well, and gave me contact info to some very ::cough:: uniquely specialized groups. But one of them looked promising: The Boulton and Park Society.
It was about this time I'd finally met Amy in real life - she wanted to keep our relationship on the phone, versus in real life. I'm not sure why, but considering how much we shared, I'd assume that it was easier to be as close as we were to a semi anonymous someone "out there." I know it helped me, as she was one of the first people I came out to.
Between Amy, Steph, Angie and JD: All four were giving me an education in what it was to be a girl, by simply being one around me. But there was more, as well. All four had different attitudes - Steph was a a bit of a punk, but in touch with her femininity. Amy was grunge, and an activist as well. Angie was a fashion plate and a southern belle. JD was practical, and a survivor. Between all four of them, and my own attitudes and geekiness, I was becoming a rather well rounded young woman. In education if not actual curves.
From Amy I learned it was okay for girls to be independent and bold, and be proud of it. From Steph, I learned that not every girl was a dainty princess having tea with the queen, but that it was okay to smell a rose every so often. From Angie, I learned that women were sensual creatures in ways men weren't. JD taught me that you did what you had to do, male or female, to survive because life won't always be on your side.
That education and self-identification would definitely come into play in the support group. Mainly because, as it turned out, most of the people in the support group, while helping me tremendously, weren't really the same flavor of transgender that I was.
I contacted most of the support groups weeks before I hit 18, making me a minor. Most didn't want a thing to do with me, because of that, and (as I found out later) because I could get them in serious trouble considering the subject matter of their support.
But one did get back to me, in a very very carefully worded letter (I'd given them my contact info) saying that they would love to help me, but couldn't as I was a minor. The were clear that this wasn't a rejection, but to contact them again when I was 18.
On my 18th birthday I was given two gifts.
The first gift was from Angie. My parents were both working that evening (my birthdays were always "time-shifted" to the nearest date we could all have days off of school and work, so don't feel bad - this was always normal to me). Steph had attempted to teach me how to do makeup, but there are subtleties and techniques that I still don't have any idea how to do. Eventually, makeup boiled down to "Is your perpetual five o clock shadow hidden? Great, put on some eye shadow and let's go!" Even now, when I wear make up, it's just to even my skin out - and I almost never wear make up anymore.
But Angie was a model. She knew makeup inside and out, she could manage my hair easily, and knew what stripes flatter and what patterns don't. For my birthday, she raided my sister's wardrobe (sorry, sis!) and put me into a stunning, and yet not girly-girl, outfit. She then took me into my room, where there were no mirrors, and proceeded to do my hair and makeup. I wasn't allowed to look this entire time - she wanted it to be a surprise.
When I was done, she led me into the bathroom with my eyes closed and told me to look in the mirror.
http://www.dolari.net/cs/5.htm is the comic version of that scene in my life. It wasn't as comedic, and I knew hairspray already burned your eyes, but those last two panels are almost word for word what happened that evening.
Steph had taken me out, but usually to isolated dark places because I was scared, like movies. Amy took me to dance clubs, or to dinner. But Angie took me out on the town that night - and no one was any the wiser, as long as I kept my mouth shut. It was exhilarating. I was a girl having a good time - and I was feeling like ME.
The second gift was an interview with Boulton and Park heads Tere Frederickson and Linda Phillips. True to their word, the minute I hit 18, they were ready to help. I was late, though, because I heard "Taco Bell" instead of "Taco Cabana." Yeah, the call made me nervous...
The meeting went well - and Tere and Linda were my first face-to-face encounters with other transgender people. For ten years, I'd wanted to meet other people like myself, and there they were. And while I was presenting male for the meeting (I was snooping under my mother's nose), they called me Jennifer, she and her the entire time. By the end, I was just kind of gushing euphoria.
The meeting was to make sure I wasn't some kind of crazy person, but I turned out to be just the kind of crazy person they accepted in their group. I had a handful of brochures, and the super secret meeting place they'd be meeting next week.
Again, we weren't as visible in the early 90s, as we are now, and support groups were few and far between. Not to mention, this was San Antonio, in south Texas. The deeply rooted Mexican culture frowned on jumping gender lines. Often violently. But there were national groups - and Boulton & Park were members of the Tri-Ess national support group.
I know some of you transfolk are groaning at hearing that they were affiliated with Tri-Ess, just bear with me here.
Tri-Ess, for those who don't know, are the Society for the Second Self, a group that helps crossdressers and transvestites by giving them a place where they can be themselves, as women. But they specialize specifically in crossdressers and transvestites. While I don't know what Tri-Ess is up to these days, at the time, they specifically discouraged sexual reassignment surgery in their (frankly fearmongering) brochures. I wasn't sure this was the place for me...
...however, affiliation doesn't mean strict adherence to the rules. There weren't very many people in San Antonio who were out, even privately, about being trans for fear of violence. That meant B&P couldn't get many members if they just catered to crossdressers and transvestites. So they opened it up to the whole transgender spectrum. This included transsexual folk like myself.
My first meeting, I noticed I was very different from the rest, and I quickly realized that opening it up to the full spectrum didn't mean there'd be many transsexuals there. Or...really...any. I was dressed in a some olive patterend jeans, sneakers a balck t-shirt and a black loose knitted sweater. One of the outfits Steph gave me. In a pile on the floor were a million sets of stiletto heels and people dressed to the nines. I began feeling a bit underdressed. I also noticed that same gender segregation - genetic women (I know some people hate that term, but for better or worse, this is where I got my transgender education) on one side, and the transgendered women on the other.
I wasn't sure what to think of this quite yet. So I kinda remained a wallflower for most of the first meeting, taking it all in. It took some time, but one of the others, a crossdresser named Sable, broke the ice by asking me about my sketch book, something that would become very important later.
As soon as we started talking more and more people came to me, and once Linda and Tere showed up, I began feeling like part of the group. I walked out of that meeting with a smile, and a confident feeling that this was something I could do.
And the gummi bear earrings Sable bought me helped, too.
They weren't "my people." But they were very close cousins, and more than willing to help out.
Which was great, because more and more, Mom was getting less and less pleased where this was all heading.
Growing Up Trans - High School, Year 4.
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
High school - Year 1 & 2 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2239578.html
High school - Year 3 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2240215.html
High school - Year 4 - http://jenndolari.livejournal.com/2241302.html
I wanted to move out to begin The Plan as soon as I could. My parents were more interested in getting me into college. But we both agreed on one aspect of The Plan (even though I'd never told them what that plan was) - therapy.
I'd already seen a therapist once, who pinged that there were some kind of gender issues going on. But my own secrecy kept him from going any farther. Secrecy was no longer an issue, so I agreed with them to see a therapist. My dad sent me to a VA therapist (Dad being a Vietnam War veteran). Ho boy.
That second therapist had no idea what to do with me. Not a single thing. I gotta give him credit - he tried. He really tried. But he seemed seriously wierded out by the situation, and incredibly embarassed by it. After a few sessions, he said "You're probably a good candidate for all this...why don't you go to some of these support groups for more help?" That was the last time I saw him - but he'd given me a ton of gold: Other People Like Me.
Or, at least, close to what I was.
I called every single support group that next day. To be fair, the VA therapist gave me every support group he could find. Sadly, he didn't research them very well, and gave me contact info to some very ::cough:: uniquely specialized groups. But one of them looked promising: The Boulton and Park Society.
It was about this time I'd finally met Amy in real life - she wanted to keep our relationship on the phone, versus in real life. I'm not sure why, but considering how much we shared, I'd assume that it was easier to be as close as we were to a semi anonymous someone "out there." I know it helped me, as she was one of the first people I came out to.
Between Amy, Steph, Angie and JD: All four were giving me an education in what it was to be a girl, by simply being one around me. But there was more, as well. All four had different attitudes - Steph was a a bit of a punk, but in touch with her femininity. Amy was grunge, and an activist as well. Angie was a fashion plate and a southern belle. JD was practical, and a survivor. Between all four of them, and my own attitudes and geekiness, I was becoming a rather well rounded young woman. In education if not actual curves.
From Amy I learned it was okay for girls to be independent and bold, and be proud of it. From Steph, I learned that not every girl was a dainty princess having tea with the queen, but that it was okay to smell a rose every so often. From Angie, I learned that women were sensual creatures in ways men weren't. JD taught me that you did what you had to do, male or female, to survive because life won't always be on your side.
That education and self-identification would definitely come into play in the support group. Mainly because, as it turned out, most of the people in the support group, while helping me tremendously, weren't really the same flavor of transgender that I was.
I contacted most of the support groups weeks before I hit 18, making me a minor. Most didn't want a thing to do with me, because of that, and (as I found out later) because I could get them in serious trouble considering the subject matter of their support.
But one did get back to me, in a very very carefully worded letter (I'd given them my contact info) saying that they would love to help me, but couldn't as I was a minor. The were clear that this wasn't a rejection, but to contact them again when I was 18.
On my 18th birthday I was given two gifts.
The first gift was from Angie. My parents were both working that evening (my birthdays were always "time-shifted" to the nearest date we could all have days off of school and work, so don't feel bad - this was always normal to me). Steph had attempted to teach me how to do makeup, but there are subtleties and techniques that I still don't have any idea how to do. Eventually, makeup boiled down to "Is your perpetual five o clock shadow hidden? Great, put on some eye shadow and let's go!" Even now, when I wear make up, it's just to even my skin out - and I almost never wear make up anymore.
But Angie was a model. She knew makeup inside and out, she could manage my hair easily, and knew what stripes flatter and what patterns don't. For my birthday, she raided my sister's wardrobe (sorry, sis!) and put me into a stunning, and yet not girly-girl, outfit. She then took me into my room, where there were no mirrors, and proceeded to do my hair and makeup. I wasn't allowed to look this entire time - she wanted it to be a surprise.
When I was done, she led me into the bathroom with my eyes closed and told me to look in the mirror.
http://www.dolari.net/cs/5.htm is the comic version of that scene in my life. It wasn't as comedic, and I knew hairspray already burned your eyes, but those last two panels are almost word for word what happened that evening.
Steph had taken me out, but usually to isolated dark places because I was scared, like movies. Amy took me to dance clubs, or to dinner. But Angie took me out on the town that night - and no one was any the wiser, as long as I kept my mouth shut. It was exhilarating. I was a girl having a good time - and I was feeling like ME.
The second gift was an interview with Boulton and Park heads Tere Frederickson and Linda Phillips. True to their word, the minute I hit 18, they were ready to help. I was late, though, because I heard "Taco Bell" instead of "Taco Cabana." Yeah, the call made me nervous...
The meeting went well - and Tere and Linda were my first face-to-face encounters with other transgender people. For ten years, I'd wanted to meet other people like myself, and there they were. And while I was presenting male for the meeting (I was snooping under my mother's nose), they called me Jennifer, she and her the entire time. By the end, I was just kind of gushing euphoria.
The meeting was to make sure I wasn't some kind of crazy person, but I turned out to be just the kind of crazy person they accepted in their group. I had a handful of brochures, and the super secret meeting place they'd be meeting next week.
Again, we weren't as visible in the early 90s, as we are now, and support groups were few and far between. Not to mention, this was San Antonio, in south Texas. The deeply rooted Mexican culture frowned on jumping gender lines. Often violently. But there were national groups - and Boulton & Park were members of the Tri-Ess national support group.
I know some of you transfolk are groaning at hearing that they were affiliated with Tri-Ess, just bear with me here.
Tri-Ess, for those who don't know, are the Society for the Second Self, a group that helps crossdressers and transvestites by giving them a place where they can be themselves, as women. But they specialize specifically in crossdressers and transvestites. While I don't know what Tri-Ess is up to these days, at the time, they specifically discouraged sexual reassignment surgery in their (frankly fearmongering) brochures. I wasn't sure this was the place for me...
...however, affiliation doesn't mean strict adherence to the rules. There weren't very many people in San Antonio who were out, even privately, about being trans for fear of violence. That meant B&P couldn't get many members if they just catered to crossdressers and transvestites. So they opened it up to the whole transgender spectrum. This included transsexual folk like myself.
My first meeting, I noticed I was very different from the rest, and I quickly realized that opening it up to the full spectrum didn't mean there'd be many transsexuals there. Or...really...any. I was dressed in a some olive patterend jeans, sneakers a balck t-shirt and a black loose knitted sweater. One of the outfits Steph gave me. In a pile on the floor were a million sets of stiletto heels and people dressed to the nines. I began feeling a bit underdressed. I also noticed that same gender segregation - genetic women (I know some people hate that term, but for better or worse, this is where I got my transgender education) on one side, and the transgendered women on the other.
I wasn't sure what to think of this quite yet. So I kinda remained a wallflower for most of the first meeting, taking it all in. It took some time, but one of the others, a crossdresser named Sable, broke the ice by asking me about my sketch book, something that would become very important later.
As soon as we started talking more and more people came to me, and once Linda and Tere showed up, I began feeling like part of the group. I walked out of that meeting with a smile, and a confident feeling that this was something I could do.
And the gummi bear earrings Sable bought me helped, too.
They weren't "my people." But they were very close cousins, and more than willing to help out.
Which was great, because more and more, Mom was getting less and less pleased where this was all heading.
