| There have been many explanations given for why someone can feel they were born in the wrong sex and then take the drastic step to become the opposite sex. I have no intention of offering another explanation for why I am a transsexual. Actually, I don't even care why. For me, people who need explanations simply have a hard time stomaching reality. I am the way I am and knowing how or why doesn't change whom I am. I have no problem accepting myself. Being a transsexual gives me a unique perspective of this world. No matter how much I wish I had been born in the correct sex I am still grateful for what I have. My story starts at a very young age. It is not unlike many other transsexuals who decide to permanently alter their bodies in order to find freedom. The one thing we all strive for is a better life and hopefully a happier life. No one should ever be faulted for trying to improve their existence. I once spoke at a womens college about my experience as a transsexual. I started off by telling a story about a wedding I attended twentysome years ago. At the reception I was greeted by a man who happened to be our family doctor when we were growing up. I come from a family of eight (three sisters and four brothers). He told me there was someone he wanted to introduce me to. I followed him over to his table where he introduced me to his wife. She happened to play a small role in my entrance into this world. When my mother was approaching labor this very doctor told her to stop at his office on the way to the hospital. Of course my mother, being the dutiful Polish mom that she was, had to make sure all her work was done before she could give birth. She was always pushing the envelope---one of my brothers was born in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. When she arrived at the doctor's office she was once again testing her limits. As fate would have it I was born in his office (which was his home as well). His wife was the very first person to hold me on this earth. He was extremely proud to tell that story and he wanted to make sure I knew whose hands were the first to cradle me. I have pondered many times what that moment in time must have been like for everyone who was present. All the emotions that followed hinged on three powerful words, "It's a boy". Perhaps my father might have been thinking that he had another son to play sports and help with the yardwork. I'm sure my mother was relieved and maybe she was thinking that she already had four boys, another girl around the house might be helpful. The doctor and his wife were probably just caught up in the moment and glad to see this newborn baby was in good health. Regardless of what was thought or felt in that room, my future life was to be scripted according to the fact that I was born with male genitilia. My whole life had been determined in an instant. The only problem with all of those expectations is that a book cannot be judged by its cover. No one could possibly know that the gender did not match the sex of that newborn. BACK NEXT |