I had an occasion yesterday to recall a turning point in my life. I was wondering if others had experienced such events in your own life. Something so forceful and changing that it stuck with you for many years.

Mine was a Saturday morning when I was nine. I had watched a tv program that had a female hero. One who rescued the male lead who was the star of the show. I was very taken with her. She was unbelievably pretty and accomplished in feminine arts, moving through social situations with grace and ease.

Yet, she was also able to don male clothing and, in that episode, accomplish the salvation of the hero when the male cast was unable to do so. I was elated at her ability. I knew that she was, in some archetypal way, the woman I would someday become. (Well, that particular dream was maybe not fulfilled, no hero here.)

So, I very excitedly ran to the dining room and told my parents that I knew who I wanted to be when I grew up. They smiled and suggested the male hero. I demurred and stated rather boldly, no. The female hero.

I recall that conversation like it happened yesterday. It was, perhaps, the most important conversation of my life. For, my parents (I'd told my mom many times over the years that I was a girl. She had been sure that such thoughts would send her eldest son to Hell. She was never overly harsh, just fright inducing.) began to disagree with me, saying that being the male hero was a lot better a role for me.

I argued. Eventually, my father said: 'You are a boy and you will be a man. You WILL get this sinful and stupid notion outta your mind and you WILL be a man.' Within me I recall my entire spirit rising up in outrage and total defiance of his decree. 'NO!! I am a girl and WILL be a woman someday, just like her!'

He was enraged and took off his belt. I screamed, knowing what was coming. He dragged me back to my room and, holding me down, belted my behind and thighs for what seemed an eternity. O, how it burnt.

He left and closed the door, leaving me sobbing with pain on my bed. I lay there all the rest of the day, alternately sleeping and dreaming.

I remember it was August and the heat in those days, before we had an air conditioner, was stifling. It mixed with the tears and the heat in my body. I recall the sounds of birds and other children at play coming through the opened window from time to time. I recall dreaming of being that female hero. My thighs and behind burnt me with the knowledge of what I could expect if I demanded to be who I was.

I cried. I slept. I dreamt. I woke sweaty a number of times.

Somewhere, during that day, lost in pain and in those dreams, I made a vow of silence. I found that pain (I recall it lingering for a day at least) was my turning point. I never spoke of 'me' ever again: to my parents, to anyone, until a few years ago.

Then, I determined within myself that I could no longer go quietly and furtively through my own life.

On this third consecutive day of rain I sit here at this keyboard, wondering if anyone else has had turning points similar to that.

Nichole


Philadelphia

Sometimes I think that I know
What love's all about
And when I see the light
I know I'll be all right.

I've got my friends in the world,
I had my friends
When we were boys and girls
And the secrets came unfurled.

City of brotherly love
Place I call home
Don't turn your back on me
I don't want to be alone
Love lasts forever.

Someone is talking to me,
Calling my name
Tell me I'm not to blame
I won't be ashamed of love.

Philadelphia,
City of brotherly love.
Brotherly love.

Sometimes I think that I know
What love's all about
And when I see the light
I know I'll be all right.
Philadelphia.

~Neil Young~
   

 

Nichole,
  I'm so sorry that happened to you. I have never had one specific turning point, it has always been a life of fear. My dad left when I was very young and I had to watch over my two siblings. I was told at 7 years old that I was the man of the house and that if I did anything to hurt my mom, my grandfather or my uncle would come over and take care of me. I saw how they did things in the family. They beat each other. I was very much afraid all the time of doing something wrong. I would cry uncontrollaby without any provocation. I was broken out with a rash (eczema) for nerves. I had the belt on my butt a couple of times too. My mom took a rolling pin to me when I was older. No, there were no special day, it was all rotten. I never had a childhood. I never socialized with anyone. I had to be home and doing chores or something might happen to me. Sorry for the soap box.
Sheila

Quote from: Nichole W. on August 21, 2007, 08:45:17 AM

On this third consecutive day of rain I sit here at this keyboard, wondering if anyone else has had turning points similar to that.

Nichole

Oh yes! I can remember too. I was maybe 3 or 4. I told my mother, who always wanted a daughter, that I was a girl. I thought that she would be pleased, but she freaked out and started beating me around the house with a broom handle. A few years latter my step sister had dressed me in her clothes and I was feeling so free and right playing with her like two girls. My step father caught us and not only did it take his belt off but he also got the duck tape to put over my mouth, wich meant more than 20 lashes. He beat me up so bad that I was choking and trembling for what seemed like hours afterwards. So I learned to keep quiet about it and try to fit into the boys games and behaviour without ever really succeding. For some strange reason he never lifted his hand on my step sister, it was only the boys who got beaten up every day. Over time I developped a survival mechanism to escape the pain. I would fix my gaze on a corner of the room and slip out of my body watching and witenessing the beating from outside. I used that trick years later when I was tortured for 72 hours by the british army. The price I paid was a disassociation from my boddy when for years afterwards I wouldn't be aware of being hurt or hungry or thirsty or tired. At work as a chef I would accidently cut or burn myself and keep working without even noticing it, An other time after a crash in Corsica I even drove my truck 150 kms on twisty mountain roads back to base with 3 cracked ribs.

Love, Light and Respect

Maebh
PS. Isn't it amazing how strong the human spirit is and how despite everything that was done to us we didn't give in but we all stuck to our truth in one way or an other? Yes we are all survivor and I so am proud of all of us. 

My parents were very loving with me and hardly ever used corporal punishment. The point at which I realized that it wasn't ok to talk about wanting to be a boy was when my friend and I were playing a kind of role-playing game, acting as our characters, who were both male. We were using male pronouns to refer to each other and, being kids, we were staying in character at home after we'd stopped playing.

The tension in my mother's voice as she tried not to freak out at us using male pronouns was so memorable, I can remember it today. I wasn't a kid who was particularly sensitive to others' feelings, so it must have been quite extreme for me to even pick up on it.

Dennis

Nicole, I'm glad you are who you are today. That totally sux that you had to go through that when you were younger.

I've went though similar stuff and then some up until my 20s. I think I've only touched a few times what I've gone through. Being hit, being forced to do male stuff, constantly having the church try to fix me (which led to some very nasty things, such as being in a gay/trans-rehab program, being forced to take 32 pills a day to un-trans me, and many suicide attempts and a guilt complex for my entire life for being who I am.... and I still struggle with that guilt complex from time to time).

Nichole..Iam so sorry. My parents were the same, everything from slaps to belts to wooden coat hangers. I didn't learn to keep my feelings to myself until 3rd grade. to keep my mouth shut and conform to society's norms. It leaves us so alone,shy and introverted unable to function in social situations. Many of us turn to substance abuse to cope, some attempt suicide to end the pain. But somehow we all got here, with friends to talk with and console each other. There must be a reason and who am I to argue. Jolene