When I was seven years old, I sat on my bed and poured my heart out to my mother that I should be a girl. She knew that in 1961 in a government housing area, being transgender was almost a death sentence. Through fear, she told me that if anyone found out about my secret, I could be taken to an asylum and shocked until I stopped saying I was a girl, or people could assault me. For the next two years, most nights I had nightmares about people chasing me, and I wet my bed. With 3 brothers, bed wetting until you are 9 years old brought about it’s own miserable times. I learned that shock treatment was really a thing for people with assumed mental conditions, and a 14 year old boy in my street was kicked to death because he ‘might’ have been gay.
I buried my trans feelings with a genuine fear for survival, and that fear of discovery stayed with me until it contributed to me becoming critically ill at 65 from long term stress. When I was a kid, I lived in fear of losing my life, but as an adult, I lived in fear of losing loved ones close to me who meant more to me than my life. Though I am transitioned now and living reasonably comfortably, being trans meant a life of fear and stress for me, and did cost me my health, my life partner, and almost my life.
Hugs,
Allie
