MY MOTHER’S LOVE MADE ME STRONG
My mom always knew. I was born male but never felt male.
When I was a kid, I had a natural affinity for all things our culture labels “female.” I loved fairy tales, dolls, makeup, arts and crafts, and soap operas. I especially loved playing dress- up.
Wearing my mom’s dresses and stuffing balls of Kleenex down my shirt was a chance to revel in the femininity that has always been the truest part of my nature. I wanted to be a cross between the Wicked Witch of the West and Brooke Logan from the Bold and the Beautiful. To my childhood self, they were the ultimate embodiment of femininity.
I was very lucky growing up because I was given the freedom to express my identity however I chose to in a home where I received nothing but unconditional love.
My mom, sister and grandparents never drew attention to or made any judgments about the things I did that made me very different from the heteronormative boys my age.
I had no idea there was anything different about me until I entered kindergarten. I was an instant target for bullies, and remained so until the end of high school. I was called a “faggot” and every queer slur you can imagine.
My survival instinct during that time was to hide. I wanted to be invisible. I was made to feel so ashamed by my femaleness. The more I hid in school, the more I became disconnected from the female spirit I had expressed so freely at home.
During my teenage years, there was very little talk of the transgender experience in mainstream media.
Being a teenager during the Will and Grace era, I just assumed that since I had a male body and was attracted to men, I was gay. But that label never felt right. It never reflected who I am and how I felt. Through it all, I never felt a need to “come out,” because I was never really “in.” It was only from the examples I saw in gay- themed TV shows and movies that I thought, “oh, I need to make some kind of announcement.” But that never felt right to me either.
Throughout my childhood my mom would constantly say things like, “There’s nothing you could say that would make me not love you.” I remember being so annoyed by these declarations, but I knew how lucky I was to have that kind of love.
Even though she always knew, my mom wanted the confirmation.
One day after school, as my mom drove me to the HMV megastore to pick up a copy of Kylie Minogue’s new album, she finally just asked me: “Are you gay?” I rolled my eyes and sighed dismissively: “Yes.” That was the extent of my coming out.
Years later, when I was able to articulate my identity as a trans person, a second coming out was not necessary — thank Liza!
When Lady Gaga was still fun and just starting out, I dressed up as her for Halloween. It was the first time since I was a child that I had allowed myself to dress up as female.
When I saw myself in the mirror, looking like a woman, it was like seeing myself for the first time. It was a moment of immediate and profound understanding that changed everything in my life. After years of hiding, I was finally able to be my truest self out loud, no coming out or announcement necessary.
I’ve often been asked where I found the courage to be myself so freely, and I never knew how to answer that question. I know now that it’s because my mom always knew and because she made sure I had the foundation of love I needed in order to find my own strength and self- love.