News and Events => Opinions & Editorials => Topic started by: Shana A on August 19, 2012, 09:35:21 AM Return to Full Version
Title: Column: ‘A little girl in rural Ireland’ – My experience growing up transgender
Post by: Shana A on August 19, 2012, 09:35:21 AM
Post by: Shana A on August 19, 2012, 09:35:21 AM
Column: 'A little girl in rural Ireland' – My experience growing up transgender
Stacey gives a personal account of life as a transgender person in a small Irish town.
Fri, 7:00 AM
http://www.thejournal.ie/readme/transgender-experience-ireland-560890-Aug2012/ (http://www.thejournal.ie/readme/transgender-experience-ireland-560890-Aug2012/)
MY NAME IS Stacey and this is my story.
It is a beautiful sunny summer's day in small town rural Ireland, I'm a tearful little girl sitting at my bedroom window. Outside, the other kids are playing, but I never go out to play with them. If I try, they will only make fun of me. I look at their pretty summer dresses – I long to have a pretty dress all of my own, or even just a doll to play with.
Years later, I come home from school, dashing up the stairs in the hope my mum won't see me. My eye is bruised, my lip is cut. I know it's easier to take the slaps, the kicks and the cruel name calling. It's easier not to fight back, as it would make them hurt me more and for longer. Long ago, I discovered that my best friend is my imagination. In my mind I am a beautiful pink princess and loved by everyone. There is no place for hurt and pain, only days filled with friendships, happiness and laughter.
Stacey gives a personal account of life as a transgender person in a small Irish town.
Fri, 7:00 AM
http://www.thejournal.ie/readme/transgender-experience-ireland-560890-Aug2012/ (http://www.thejournal.ie/readme/transgender-experience-ireland-560890-Aug2012/)
MY NAME IS Stacey and this is my story.
It is a beautiful sunny summer's day in small town rural Ireland, I'm a tearful little girl sitting at my bedroom window. Outside, the other kids are playing, but I never go out to play with them. If I try, they will only make fun of me. I look at their pretty summer dresses – I long to have a pretty dress all of my own, or even just a doll to play with.
Years later, I come home from school, dashing up the stairs in the hope my mum won't see me. My eye is bruised, my lip is cut. I know it's easier to take the slaps, the kicks and the cruel name calling. It's easier not to fight back, as it would make them hurt me more and for longer. Long ago, I discovered that my best friend is my imagination. In my mind I am a beautiful pink princess and loved by everyone. There is no place for hurt and pain, only days filled with friendships, happiness and laughter.