“A joyful and exhilarating experience. An intimate insight into the joy and pain of a transgender person. Informative but also transformative, Ms Gufreda has a personal and conversational style that make reading of this volume easy and enjoyable. This book will be a great asset… for helping everyone know and understand how we can all live in unity, with diversity—provided love is there as the catalyst.”
Friar Justin
Belitz, Author & Founding Director of The Franciscan Hermitage,
Inc., a spiritual center dedicated to personal growth and
development
“In her
wonderfully personal way, JJ has done a great job of conveying to the
reader her transition process and how it affected her professional
life. It’s a ‘must-read’ for everyone in today’s
ever-changing business world.”
Irwin Drucker, Program
Director GLBT and International Programs, Supplier Diversity, IBM
Global Procurement
“A great,
compassionate… textbook for those who feel they are ‘out of the
mainstream,’ and wanting to know how to negotiate the road to
freedom.”
Johnny Burke, host of Johnny Burke & the
Morning Crew
on 96 WHNN
Left-Hander in London
A Field Guide to Transgenders, Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals—In the Family, On the Job and In the Pew
JJ Marie Gufreda
Published by Enjoy Lefty Publishing LLC
http://www.LeftHanderinLondon.com
(317) 885-7811
Copyright © 2011 Enjoy Lefty Publishing LLC
Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Requests for information should be addressed to:
jjgufreda@lefthanderinlondon.com
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9846867-0-4
Joe Gufreda was a loving husband and father, successful businessman and faithful Catholic in the Midwest. But Joe had a secret that he was afraid to tell anyone.
After years of confusion and anxiety, he realized he was not living his true gender and worked up the courage toward becoming a woman, JJ Marie.
Left-Hander in London: A Field Guide to Transgenders, Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals—In the Family, On the Job and In the Pew is the candid, funny and sometimes surprising story of that transition. Joe/JJ Marie’s sheer ordinariness is what makes this first-hand account so powerful. This could be your neighbor, coworker, cousin, brother or spouse.
Raised in a Sicilian-American household in Cleveland, Joe Gufreda had a “normal” childhood playing sports, scrapping on the playground, serving as an altar boy and, as he grew older, dating girls. But from early on he knew he was different from the other boys: In secret he liked to dress in women’s clothes.
Thanks to a lack of information about transgenders in that era, he was confused about what his leanings meant. Was he one of a kind? A transvestite? It wasn’t until he discovered a book about transgenders in a college library that he began the journey to change genders.
The title Left-Hander in London refers to realizing you are different from most people, but uncertain how to get to that seemingly far-away place where you will be happy. The book traces Gufreda’s journey, from sharing his secret with his wife to dressing as a woman at home and a man everywhere else to telling his family, friends and business associates that he was becoming a woman.
Some of their reactions to this earth-shaking news were a pleasant surprise. Others were painful, bigoted and lacking in “Christian” love.
For anyone hiding and suppressing an important secret, Left-Hander in London offers a roadmap on how to go public and what reactions to expect. For friends, family and business associates, JJ Marie’s first-hand account will give you helpful tips on how to respond to the coming out of a transgender, lesbian, gay or bisexual.
Left-Hander in London is a powerful, amusing and informative book about embracing your true inner self and moving beyond tolerance and acceptance to enjoying diversity.
Dedicated to
Our Lady of Lourdes
St. Bernadette
And
My wife, Jo
She knows what they mean when they say
“together through thick and thin.”
Acknowledgements
Thanks to everyone that helped and supported me during my writing of Left-Hander In London (LHIL). First, I thank Jo, Joey, Andrea, Matt, Katherin, Kyle and Amanda, Tim, Glor and their families and all my relatives. Your love for me and assistance with the book was invaluable. Special thanks to my editors, Kym Reeves and Steve Hall and my publicists, Mariel Wilding and Leigha Landry. Joey Gufreda helped with technical issues and Andrea Pilz did all the design, artwork and graphics for LHIL.
I asked many people to do peer review and help out on the book. I appreciate your time and contributions. If I missed someone, I apologize, but be assured that I appreciate your help. Some of the peer reviewers and people that offered support were Charlie Colosky, Johnny Burke, Dan DeWitt, Geoff Petranek, David Johnson, Michele O’Mara, Vickie Davis, Fredrikka Maxwell, Tony Amaddio, Millie Amaddio, Janet Cross, Michelle Davis, Stephanie Peck, Emily, Sandy and Shannon from IXE, Kristen Smithson, Mary Levell, Jim and Tina Seebeck, Rich and Jan Hammond, Jenny Starnes, Angie Starnes Laninga, Lisa Alberico, Brad Bell, Pete, Kyla and Diane Maddox, Samantha Brown, Jan Kubelsky and Wendy, Benito Cerimele, Tom King, Megan Wallent, Angel Robertsson, Nick Turner, Chloe Prince, Felicia Powers and everyone at the NGLCC, Scott Franklin, Ron Craig, Cynthia Wade, Julie and Randy Dwenger, Natalia Zukerman, Robin Honan, Justin Belitz, Randall Balmer, John Marshall, Indianapolis Rainbow Chamber of Commerce, Irwin Drucker, James Kuester, Joe Maxwell, Rob and Rebecka Kruk, Aurie Chidziva, Tim Ruddell, Terri Friel, Drew Dillon, Mr. and Mrs. Gregg Messel, Lou English, Jeff Ellis, Charlie Peterson, Paige Drymalski, Jeff and Anita Sipes, Jessica Wilch, Vivian Benge, Erin Warnick, Sue Smith, Judy Koch, Bonnie Starnes, Julie and Jo Nemecek, Barb Clayton, Dan Prock, Kathe Perez, Tara Betterman and Melody Layne, Barry King, Terry Hildebrandt, Teddy Gumbleton, Lisa Ryberg, Dr. Christopher Trepel, Jaycee Renee Patterson, Jon Coalson, Annette Gross, Paul Burt, Emily, Andrew, Miranda, Faith, and Sarah Klein, Andrew Tudor, Lizz Schunn, and Barb Milton. I would also like to acknowledge Vincenzo Cancilla Gufreda. He is too little to help with the book, but he brings us joy just by being with us!
Regarding Names of People in the Book
I did not list all the relevant names of many people described in the book. In some cases, if the person had not been very nice or done something that I perceived as wrong or misguided, I didn’t see much benefit to listing their name. I am not looking for any paybacks or asking for a fight—just describing things as I perceive them. I write from my perspective. Others may have a different view of what occurred.
I listed some by their names. I am happy to acknowledge the people who helped and supported me when I really needed it. If you are on this list, but not in the book, it is because I didn’t write everything down or save each note. I sincerely thank everyone who helped me along the way, even if they are not acknowledged.
If you think you are one of the misguided people I describe or recognize my description of some of the less supportive people, I hope I don’t hurt your feelings. May God bless you. Maybe the next person you encounter will feel a little better after being with you than I did.
I use the term “LGBT” to describe sexual attraction and gender non-conforming people. Some folks use other letters as well, such as I (intersex) Q (Queer or Questioning) A (Ally or Androgyne). There are others. For simplicity and since LGBT is most relevant for my story, I’ll stick with that. I wish no offense to anyone I left out.
Editor’s Note: Tips on Using This Guide
Who Needs Left-Hander in London?
This book was written with the intention of assisting and educating:
those determining and embarking on their own gender journeys,
family members and friends who have just received world-rocking news about a loved one’s gender identity or sexual orientation,
people who have encountered a transgender person (or gay or lesbian or bisexual or whatever-designation) and want to know how to react in the best way possible,
folks who want to understand what someone may be going through as they become their true selves,
business people who may desire (or are being forced into compliance) to be more inclusive but need a little guidance,
souls in conflict over their spirituality and organized religion (the Catholic Church in JJ’s case) in relation to their sexuality or gender identification,
clergy and laypeople who want to represent their faith in a more loving and Christ-like manner,
folks who just enjoy an interesting tale and don’t mind learning a little something in the process!
How Do I Best Use Left-Hander in London?
Depending on what you want to get out of this book, here are some tips on finding what you need to know.
The bulk of the chapters are more anecdotal in nature and should give a little more depth and a “human face” via one person’s personal journey toward wholeness. It is my hope this will aid in comprehending how someone feels before, during and after they understand themselves and their gender identity -- and have determined they need to make changes in how they express their own true nature.
If you have neither the time nor inclination to hear my personal story, no fear -- I’m not much into guilt, in spite of my strong Catholic roots! Simply turn to the back of the book and check out the Summary, which includes a Chapter Synopsis and Questions Section. The questions should give you food for thought, and the descriptions of each chapter’s contents will point you to the section that you feel is relevant to your personal situation or area of interest.
Questions Section
Here you will find some questions you may have for yourself or for someone who is LGBT, as well as some that I have been asked during my transition. As I’ve told people, you can ask anything you like; I just may not answer everything you want to know!
Resources and Unabashed Hucksterism
I have mentioned several resources that I have found useful during my gender journey, and have included points of contact after the Questions Section. I wish to stress that I am not being compensated in any way for the mention of any particular website, product or program, but simply wish to acknowledge that these techniques or programs worked for my issues, and to suggest they may be helpful to you or your loved ones as well.
Table of Contents
Chapter 2: My Personal Odyssey—Uncovering the Real Me
Chapter 4: Transition and Circles—Setting Priorities and Boarding the Plane for London
Chapter 5: More in the Outer Circles
Chapter 6: Reactions—“How Ya Doin’?”
Chapter 7: In or Out—The Creeping Darkness of Christian Moralism
Chapter 8: Bad News and Good News – The Church and Spirituality
Chapter 9: Junk that JJ Learned
Chapter 10 “Ick” —The Definitive Answers to Questions on the Morality of Being Transgender, Gay, Bi or Lesbian
Chapter 11: I am a Translator: Another Insiders’ Report - Discrimination, Women, Straights and Gays
Chapter 12: A Business Trip to London—Transition in Business
Chapter 13: Business Reactions—“I was going to…”
Chapter 15: Moving Down the Road
Introduction—A Brief Overview
Left-Hander in London: A Field Guide to Transgenders, Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals -- In the Family, On the Job and In the Pew will benefit lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people who want to “come out” or, in the case of some transgender people, transition. Friends, family and co-workers can also profit because the book can give them a better understanding of people they know that are “different.” This is helpful for everyone affected during some of the toughest and loneliest times an LGBT person experiences.
We have all heard of people that have overcome the odds to become successful in many fields. A young person is abandoned by his or her parents, raises siblings without much help from anyone and eventually perseveres through all their challenges and difficulties to become a star athlete. They use their newfound riches to support their family. Another rises from the depths of poverty to a college education and public service as an elected official. It is easy to observe these people, hear their stories and feel admiration and respect for them and their incredible journeys.
LGBT people each have a journey to become the best person they can be and the persons they were meant to be. They must first discover why they feel different from others. For some this happens very early in life. For others, it may take years. Secondly, they have to determine what to do when they realize that they are Lesbian, or Gay, or Bisexual, or Transgender, or however they feel. This can be easy, but often leads to pain, broken relationships and broken people. Finally, they live their lives – as they really are or, sadly, hiding their true being. Hopefully, my story will be illustrative of others’ experiences.
Does our society view LGBT peoples’ journeys with the same understanding and admiration as we do in my example of the star athlete or civic leader who had to overcome so many challenges?
I believe a person can have a satisfying journey despite the inevitable difficulties. Many transgender and “coming out” stories focus on the losses incurred, discrimination faced and problems unsolved. I want to emphasize that people can become their true selves and not lose everything and everyone. In fact, the journey can be rewarding and fun, especially if you have a positive attitude, great family, friends and associates, and a good sense of humor.
A note of clarification: Transgender people express their gender differently than most, and some want to change their gender. Gender and sexuality can vary on a continuum and may change over time.
Left-Hander in London is written from my perspective, which is transgender. This is not a scholarly study analyzing the similarities and differences between transgender people and lesbians, gays, and bisexuals. I have gained some relevant insights about others in the LGBT community which might be helpful for people that are uncomfortable around or even discriminatory towards LGBT folks.
When We’re Out, We’re Definitely Out
Many issues are the same for “LGBs” as for “Ts”—discovering your true self, becoming your true self, determining who to tell and how to tell them, finding how you fit in when you are not “normal,” and how to help others deal with the real you.
One of the biggest differences between transgender people and other LGBs is that many transgenders encounter more issues related to telling people or what to do if others discover it on their own. It is harder to hide your gender if you are changing it than to hide your sexuality, as some gays, lesbians and bisexuals do.
In my case, people noticed my hair was getting longer, my ears were pierced, my nails grew longer and my hair magically turned blonde (well, maybe with some help). Hormones and female clothes completed the final demise of the male part of me. After a while, I could not hide my new gender, even if I wanted to (which I didn’t). If you are genetically a male and go to the store dressed as a female, people may notice quickly, especially if they knew you previously as a male. Changing gender is not like changing shoes.
Generally, you can’t look at LGBs and instantly “tell” they are gay, lesbian or bisexual. They can decide to be “in” the closet or “out.” Some hide it better than others. But sexual orientation and gender identification are different; anyone that knew me as Joe knows I have been through some big changes, if they recognize me at all.
Some transgender people go back and forth from one gender to another. In my case, once I started dressing as a female and going out on a regular basis, I realized that my friends and family had to know. I quickly became comfortable going anywhere and doing anything as a female.
It took me many years to discover and understand my true self. I have enjoyed a successful business career, which includes manufacturing industry management and engineering positions, consulting and teaching at a college. I have contributed to three business books and written several magazine articles. My wife and I have been married for over 33 years, and we have three grown children and a grandson.
I always knew, however, that my gender identity did not match that of everyone else I knew.
After a lifetime of hiding and suppressing my real identity, I worked hard to come up with the best transition plan for my family and me. I know of many LGBT people who are hiding or are outcasts. I was determined (and praying) that this would not happen to me. I wanted to keep my relationships with the people most important to me. My journey taught me valuable lessons about myself and my relationships with others. According to some estimates, between 5% and 10% of the US population is LGBT. If there are 30 million LGBT people, you probably know at least a few!
You may be shocked to hear that someone close to you is sharing his or her true gender identity or sexual orientation (or both), especially if it is different than what you previously thought. You may ask, “What can I read to help me process this news about (your relative, colleague or friend)? How do I react to this?”
Left-Hander in London discusses how I told people, and shares many of the loving, questioning and funny reactions I received, as well as those who did not respond positively—or at all.
I can identify and empathize with gays, straights, lesbians, married people, minorities, parents, men and women. I have been a member of many of society’s majority groups as well as several minority groups.
Know the old saying about having to walk a mile in someone’s shoes before you can understand them? I have done this in a way that most people have not. Walk along with me and hopefully you can get a better appreciation of other people and their journey.
The Church and the Christian Moralists
Left-Hander in London includes a discussion of spirituality and the (Catholic) Church. Many in organized religion shun and reject LGBT people rather than showing the love to be expected from a religious group (or at least that I expected). Some religious people attack people that “have the gay” and are afraid of transgender people because they don’t understand us or think we are sinning by being who we are.
If you are a Christian, my thoughts on my experience with the Church and some Christians may make you consider unpleasant things about how to properly react to someone whose gender identification is “not normal.” Several Catholics who previewed this book told me that they found Chapters 7 and 8 interesting and validating, but painful to read. I only ask that you have an open mind and heart, are considerate of others, and try to gain something from this book that you can use for the good.
Spirituality and Biblical Relevance
In some chapters, I used quotes from the New American Bible, the translation I use. As I was collecting notes, I found many quotes were relevant to the book (and my life) as I read the Bible each day. I soon had a large pile of Bible readings that were appropriate to different parts of what I was planning for Left-Hander in London. I decided to include a few quotes that were especially helpful to me.
I have some disagreements with the Church and people I describe as Christian Moralists. In my experience, these people will search the Bible to prove you wrong or find ways to attack you. I am not looking to play the game that one transgender friend called “Dueling Bible Verses.” I only want to stimulate your thinking and share how the Bible has been relevant for me, especially when I struggled so much on my gender journey and as I started my transition.
Bottom Line It for Me, Baby: Help for the Reader
People buy books that they would like to read every day. But instead of reading the whole thing, they may review the introduction and then simply skim the chapters because:
They don’t have time to read the entire book;
Something strikes them as uninteresting or boring and their interest grinds to zero;
They read in a big fat chair or in bed, and even the most exciting book is quickly lost amongst their snores;
They are easily distracted and something else caught their eye; or
They don’t want to read the whole book for whatever reason.
If you are one of those people, I have an extra bonus for you. At the end of the book is a short summary of the book, along with a description of each chapter. If you want to read the Introduction and/or the Summary, skim Left-Hander in London quickly, and then give it away or stick it on your shelf, be my guest! Hopefully you will at least read this Introduction and the Summary and take a look at any particular chapters that interest you. Approach the book however you want. You won’t get any guilt from me.
Chapter 1
Left-Hander
I grew up in the ‘50s and ‘60s in Cleveland, Ohio. My parents and my entire family were Catholic. I went to Catholic school from grades 1-12 and to a Catholic college for my master’s degree. Ridiculously normal, and not exactly the background for swimming against the stream, right?
Experts estimate that only 5-10% of the population is left-handed. When children learned to write when I was a kid, teachers had to decide what to “do” with those students who were left-handed. In many cases the lefties were taught how to hold the pencil and move the paper so the writing would look “correct”—that is, right-handed. In other cases, the teachers or parents taught the students to suppress their stronger left hand and use the right hand. This was one way to help them try to fit in and be the same as others. Some teachers also taught students to be right-handed because it was easier to teach everyone the same way.
There may have also been deeper reasons. Many societies have long considered being left-handed as evil or bad. Lots of terms that refer to left-handed people are not flattering to the lefties! The terms “left-handed” and “sinister” both came from the Latin sinestra. Right is often a synonym for correctness while left can mean evil or unlucky. This started in ancient languages, was incorporated into Christianity and continues in many places across the globe. A friend told me that in Arab countries the left hand is reserved for hygiene and therefore viewed as “dirty” and using it is considered a huge insult.
Conformity Required – Right? (See What I Mean?)
Consider a world much more intensely “anti-lefty,” where over time a left-handed person was thought to be less of a person than a right-hander. The stigma and discrimination against left-handed people may have gone on for so long that people forgot that being left-handed was a natural human condition. As a result, the people who were born left-handed were forced to “become” right-handed. They hid and suppressed their natural condition by acting right-handed. They might not even have been aware they were acting anything other than naturally.
They wrote, threw and shot baskets with their right hands. In baseball, even if they wanted, they could not be left-handed because there were no left-handed mitts. Eventually even the term “left-handed” would be so out-of-use that it might be forgotten.
Discovery
Now consider a young boy—let’s call him Joey—who was naturally left-handed. His strong hand was his left hand. He kicked better left-footed. He was more coordinated with the left hand and somewhat clumsy with his right. In the environment I described, he did his best to fit in with everyone else. Acting as a right-hander, he considered himself to be a poor athlete and uncoordinated. He felt he was different from other people but didn’t know why.
One day, Joey was throwing stones into a pond near his house. He spotted a perfect skipping stone on the ground. For some reason, he picked it up with his left hand and threw it. It went farther than any rock he had ever thrown with his right hand, and skipped six times before it sank into the water—a new personal record.
He looked around to make sure no one saw him do this, and went back to his right-handed game.
He forgot about the incident until another occasion, when he picked up a ball and unconsciously threw it with his left hand. The same thing happened—he threw it easier, further and better than ever before. He started to get concerned. He knew that people just did not do this. He had never seen anyone throw with that hand. He had previously thought he was a terrible pitcher, but he had a good arm—unfortunately, the wrong arm. He felt nervous because he worried about what people would say or do if they found out about his strange trait.
He decided that every once in a while, if it was absolutely safe and no one would see him, he would throw with the wrong hand. He would never let anyone know about it. He constantly looked at the daily newspapers and weekly magazines for information about this strange condition that seemingly only he had.
Every once in a while, he would find something written about someone throwing with the wrong hand, but the person usually did it to be funny and people thought it was hysterical. Joey did not feel that this was amusing at all. He felt normal in this abnormal way, and it caused him anxiety to think about. And he didn’t. Most of the time.
But every once in a while he would sneak outside after everyone had gone to bed and throw a tennis ball against a wall with the wrong hand. It was great because it was comfortable and so natural. He was terrified that someone would see, but he became good at hiding and suppressing and, as far as he could tell, no one ever found out. He never felt he could or would do anything about this—this was the way his life would be.
One late night, in a dimly lit section of the college library, he was looking around at the old books for anything written about people throwing or writing with the wrong hand.
Not a Lone Weirdo?!?
Amazingly, he stumbled upon a book titled Left-Handed. On the cover was a picture of what looked like his strong hand. His hands shaking, he opened the book. The author, long dead, told of something called being “left-handed.” The book said a small percentage of the population was this way. It gave some history and talked about the discrimination against left-handed people over the centuries. The book said that there was no known cure for it. If you were left-handed, you just were.
Wow, what now? According to the old book, nothing was wrong with the young man. He was just different from most other people. He decided that he was okay with being left-handed, and he was also thankful since he was a little unique and could see things a bit differently from everyone else. Joey started to wonder what this new information would mean since it explained something important about him and why he didn’t quite fit in with the world.
Since he didn’t know anyone who was like this, he felt that it was risky for someone to find out his true nature. Joey decided to continue hiding his left-handedness rather than telling anyone what he had discovered.
He did not know what would happen if someone did find out, but it seemed too difficult to even contemplate. Fear of the unknown is a powerful force. He pushed the feelings deep down inside, and only allowed them to surface if he thought no one was around, acting like he was right-handed.
Since you’ve picked up this book, I’m guessing you can already see the parallel, right? The story about Joey is related to me. I am not left-handed, though. I am transgender. The relevance is that most people know someone who is left-handed, but not as many know someone like me who is transgender. I was called Joey when I was young. Later everyone called me Joe, and now my name is JJ Marie Gufreda.
Defining My Left-handedness:
The Human Rights Campaign (HRC) produces a brochure called Coming out as Transgender. Their definition of transgender is “an umbrella term that applies to a broad range of people who experience and/or express their gender differently from what most people expect.” They also define a transsexual as “a person who—with or without medical treatment—identifies and lives his or her life as a member of the gender opposite the one he or she was assigned at birth.”
Given these definitions, both terms apply to me. I prefer and use the term transgender. To me, “transsexual” sounds like it is related to sex; I think “transgender” is the more relevant for me.
The Indiana Transgender Rights Advocacy Alliance (INTRAA) has an information sheet with a diagram of Sex, Sexuality, and Gender, adapted from the Center for Gender Sanity’s diagram of sex and gender. It looks like this:
When you attempt to understand someone by using this chart, there is much to consider. As far as I know, I am a male biologically, but I identify and express myself as a woman. I have been married to a woman, Jo, for over 33 years.
Looking at people’s positions on this diagram may help you understand another person better. People are not necessarily clearly male and female or gay and straight. Some people’s position on the chart can evolve over time.
I have heard of, and read about, some transgender people who always felt that they were the opposite gender. A transgender person who was born male may say something like, “I always thought I was a girl,” “I was born in the wrong body,” or “When I went to bed, I prayed that I would wake up a girl.”
That is not the way it happened with me. I always knew that I was different and somehow things were out of synch. I was always interested in girl things, but I thought that it was better that no one found out. I could never become a girl anyway. It was impossible.
In the story Joey learned to get by as right-handed. I did the same. Even if I did not feel that I was like the other boys, I learned to be a boy. I could get by as a boy. Nothing else seemed possible. You can’t dream or wish your way to becoming a girl, can you?
(Later in life I discovered that if you have thousands of dollars and the right physician, you can go to bed a boy and wake up a girl!)
Chapter 2
My Personal Odyssey—Uncovering the Real Me
I was born about a month premature in 1954 in Cleveland. Medical issues related to the pregnancy contributed to my premature birth. That was one of the few times in my life that I have been early! I was small and needed to stay in an incubator for the first few days. I was the first child for my parents.
We lived in a house in the Collinwood area, a lower- to middle-class Italian neighborhood. It was clean, well kept, and very much a city neighborhood. After a while we moved a few miles away to a similar neighborhood, primarily Slovenian. We lived in an apartment above the store and deli that my mom’s parents owned.
My dad was a steelworker and eventually became the union president. My mom stayed at home with my sister and me and, in a few years, my brother ;) she worked different jobs to help the family. Relatives were often around.
One of my early memories was related to gender. In sorting through my recollections, I think this was an actual event mixed up with the memory of a photo we had in the family picture drawer. Memories have run together in my mind after so many years have passed.
I was around four or five. I remember my mom putting me in a dress to see what I would look like. I recall being in the front area of the apartment near the windows looking out on Lakeshore Boulevard, so part of the scene is clear. But I can’t remember why Mom did this, where the clothes came from, and whether this was only one time or a repeating occurrence.
I saw the photo a few times in the picture drawer, but later I destroyed it so no one would see the picture of me in a dress. I didn’t want anyone to suspect anything about my secret. I would have liked to ask my mom about this before she died, but did not want to open the issue after so many years.
I have curly hair, and it was a big deal with my mom when I got it cut the first time. I think my dad wanted me to look more like a boy and my mom wanted to keep it long and curly. I thought curly hair was always a curse because people considered it feminine. I thought it looked girly on me. I still do, but now I see it as a benefit.
Machismo
Around 1960, we moved to a house in the same neighborhood, about a mile from school. We lived there most of my childhood. I was always one of the “smart” kids in school. Today you might call them geeks! I paid attention and did my work. Only a few of the boys were really worried about school while several girls were in the “smart” crowd.
As school went on, the boys belonged to three groups—the Collegiates, the Racks and the Greasers. I don’t remember the difference between the Racks and Greasers, but they used a lot of grease in their hair and wore leather, or at least faux leather, jackets. The Racks and Greasers fought a lot and got into trouble. I was a Collegiate, the group who wore penny loafers and other clothes that we thought college kids did, and avoided getting into trouble.
In the eighth grade, one of the Collegiate kids wanted to hang out with the tough kids. They told him that before he could become part of their gang, he had to beat someone in a fight. I was chosen as the target. He was bigger than me.
I was always timid about fighting, but my dad told me that if I ever got in a fight, I should punch the guy in the nose. He told me that it hurt a lot and usually drew blood, ending things quickly. It turned out that Dad was right.
The guy started pushing me—the preferred way to start a fight in those days. I kept asking him why he wanted to fight. He seemed determined to continue, so after several of his pushes, I punched him directly on the nose. His eyes widened and I could tell that he was surprised. His pride and his nose were hurt. He immediately started bleeding. I gave him a Kleenex and walked away.
The kids laughed and heckled him until he came back and found me for another round. I thought it was all stupid. I asked him if he wanted to do it again, and he meekly said yes. I immediately punched him in the same place, and the blood started again. He stopped and held his nose. That was the end of it.
Some of the girls I liked told me it was cool I won the fight. I was triumphant, but I thought the whole thing made no sense at all. My hand hurt for a week from the punches, probably a lot longer than his nose.
I had some friends at school and mostly hung out with the kids on my block and the next street. I walked to school with Susie, a girl in my grade, and I liked her a lot. At that age guys were not supposed to be friends with girls.
Most of my time with friends consisted of hanging out, throwing a ball against the steps and playing football or baseball on the field down the street. I played Little League baseball and got to be a decent player. My smallish size was countered by my experience, since I played a lot. I never hit with any power, but I was fast and good at placing the ball.
Sounds like a regular childhood, right?
On the Outside, a Regular Boyhood…
During my grade school years, I also became aware that I was interested in girl’s clothes.
I got a paper route when I was 12 or so. I woke up at 5 or 5:30 in the morning, and delivered papers in my neighborhood or one nearby. Because no one was around that early in the morning, sometimes I tried on my mother’s clothes I found in a basket in the laundry room. The clothes were too big, but if it was available, I tried it on. My sister’s stuff was too small.
I used to do odd jobs, and the money was good if I did jobs others did not want to do. A single lady liked to have me work for her. I was cheap labor, and it saved her from the dirty work—outside cleaning, painting and gardening. She commented on how pretty my hair was—that with hair like that, I should have been a girl. I was always excited when she said that, but I tried not to show how it affected me.
When I got the rare chance to be home alone, I went up into the attic by placing a chair under the ceiling cover, moving the cover out of the way, and pulling myself up. After having three kids, Mom had gained weight, but her corsets and dresses from her younger days were smaller sizes.
This effort was a big production. I was always afraid that I would get stranded up there, kill myself on the way up or down, or would not be able to get down and changed back to boy clothes before someone caught me. This never happened, though. Each time was a major accomplishment, and worth every second of the anxiety and all the nicks and bruises.
I looked in the paper, magazines and books for stories about guys who dressed as girls. I cut out pictures of, and articles on, Milton Berle, who often dressed as a woman for comic effect, and Harvard’s Hasty Pudding show, where several of the guys dressed up as women. I even memorized a few Ann Landers advice columns—one about a wife whose husband wore her clothes, the other about a girl whose brother would go out dressed as a girl every night for a walk. I remember a Life (or maybe it was Look) magazine with a feature article about guys who changed their sex from male to female. They looked just like women. I read this several times, but not enough that anyone would notice that I was reading it.
Movies and TV shows also had some cross-dressing. I read with interest about Triple Echo, a movie where a soldier hid as a woman on a farm to escape the Army. He eventually liked being a girl and did not want to go back. In the hit film Some Like It Hot, stars Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon were dressed like women for much of the movie. I watched this movie in re-runs on TV.
I always looked for TV talk shows with cross-dressers or guys who dressed as women. I remember one TV show that brought recently married couples to tell a story about their time together to win prizes.
The couple usually came out together, but one show started out with the lady coming out by herself. When the host asked where her husband was, she said that he was getting his dress and makeup on backstage. The host asked why, and she said the producers had asked him to do it. I was all ears and anxiously waited for what was to come.
After the commercial, the husband came out and really looked like a woman. She (the wife) was dressed casually, but he was in a nice dress and makeup.
They told the story of how they came to date. She had been dating a football star, and if the jock found out that she was seeing another guy, that would be the end of that guy. To get around this, her future husband suggested that he would dress as a girl and pretend to be her girlfriend so he could see her without enraging the boyfriend. This went on for months until she finally broke up with the jock. She married the guy who had been her “girlfriend.”
The host asked if he had dressed up any more, and the wife said that on their wedding night, he put on her lingerie and wedding dress for fun and that he looked sexy.
This made a big impression on me. The show presented the situation as funny, but this guy clearly liked dressing as a woman and the wife was proud of her girly husband. I was excited by the show but terrified that Mom would realize why I was watching it. I memorized as many details as I could, and then buried the show deep in my mind.
No one knew I thought these things. Except for the occasional article or TV show, I was not aware of any other guy dressing as a girl or changing into a girl. These feelings were so outside what I thought was acceptable that I never considered letting people know about this part of me. It did not seem possible to share this with anyone.
I was good at hiding and suppressing. If the FBI wants to find out how people hide their true identities for years without anyone finding out, I’d be glad to help! It was not easy, but I was good at it. While I was fantasizing about being a girl, I was doing the usual boy stuff. Dad taught us sports, played ball with us and was active with me in the Boy Scouts. I spent my free time with the boys in the neighborhood.
I never told anyone of my interest in feminine things. I felt I was probably the only person like this. I was not macho, but did boy things because that is what I was supposed to do, although I didn’t feel comfortable with the way the gender rules were set up.
I had crushes on some girls from school, but was shy around them. The other kids did spin-the-bottle and other kissing games, but I only did that once. I enjoyed it, but I was nervous about the possibility of being “wrong” and being found out.
From the third or fourth grade, I was an altar boy, rising to the position of president of the altar boys in the eighth grade. I thought this made me special, but it really meant that if they needed someone on short notice for 5:30 a.m. Mass, I got the call. I always was religious, attended Mass and felt close to God.
During this time, I experienced my first recognition of anxiety-type issues and symptoms. My mom was a world-class Italian worrying mother. Like her, I was a worrier—partially because of the stress of concealing my gender issues.
I occasionally felt dizzy, which frightened me. I later learned that these were probably panic attacks. The feelings were terrible. It was many years later that I learned to deal with the anxiety.
My Religious Path
In the summer of 1968 I walked two or three miles to a summer school session to get an early start on my freshman year at an all-boys Catholic high school. On my walk, I met a few girls who would attend the all-girls Catholic school a few miles down the road. I liked one of the girls and eventually asked her out for a football game my freshman year. We only went out once or twice, but I was excited that I had my first date.
As far as I could tell, I was just like everyone else. But I always had lingering thoughts about girls’ clothes and girl things. I pushed it down, but it was always under the surface, ready to bob up like a cork. A girly pink cork!
At the 2,200-student high school, I learned a lot about the Catholic faith from the priests and other teachers. They taught us like we were adults with opinions—not kids expected to believe everything we were told. During my sophomore year, I joined a religious group, Sodality. We had prayer meetings and went on some retreats. I was starting to develop my own opinions and think as an adult. The prayer groups got intense, and I felt God’s presence. In my mind everything became related to religion; I prayed all the time, all the songs on the radio seemed like they had religious meanings, and I wanted more of a personal experience with God.
A priest at school asked several of us to drive with him to Pennsylvania to speak about our faith to a church group. At the meeting, we prayed together, and they asked me if I wanted the gift of tongues. Not knowing anything about it, I said I guessed it was okay. They laid hands on me, prayed and asked me to pray out loud. I started to pray in tongues. I have been able to do this ever since. Sounds come out of my mouth, and I feel that I am talking directly to God, but I don’t understand what I am saying.
On a retreat some years ago, I asked a priest what it meant and why I can do it. He said praying in tongues is a way for your heart to speak to God when you do not know what to say. My gift has been a blessing for me.
I eventually backed off on the religious stuff in high school because it got too intense. I did not lose my faith, but did not think about it as much as I had.
A Normal Good Catholic Boy’s Dating Life
My high school years weren’t just about learning and developing my relationship with God. We made up for the lack of girls at the all-boys school by meeting the girls after school. I had crushes on, and dated, several girls.
One summer, I dated a beautiful blonde twin. I asked one out but eventually found that I had more in common with her sister. It was mutual. I was always nice to them and appreciated them as individuals. Most of the guys just leered at them because they were so “hot.” The girls did not like it when the guys acted like jerks and only liked them because of their looks.
I was always self-conscious about being short. At 5’5;” I was one of the 10 shortest students in a class of 500 people. While this was a disadvantage when I was younger, my shortness has become a plus for me now. I can buy women’s clothes off the rack and I rarely have problems with pants being too long!
I met my first steady girlfriend when I was a junior in high school. We dated for a few years. She was one or two years younger than me, and very nice. We got along well. My view on sex was a very traditional Catholic one: No sex before marriage, but kissing and petting were okay if you liked each other. I was curious about sex and enjoyed making out with her in the car when I would drop her off at home. It did not go further by mutual agreement.
I ran cross-country during my freshman year and was terrible. I was fast and quick, but not close to the taller runners in long distance races. In addition, running two miles beside Lake Erie in the sleet and snow was not my idea of fun. I gave it up after a year. I never did much with sports in high school.
Outside of school activities, I worked at a pizza shop from age 14 until I was 23. I learned a lot there about taking responsibility, preparing food, dealing with people, gambling, the Mafia, and how the boss hid the gun. I also learned what to do during a bomb threat, how to make weed brownies (a “dope head” worked there part of the time but I didn’t eat any), and what happens when a guy gets shot in the parking lot. It was a learning experience, and not only things I wanted to learn!
The boss had a young attractive wife, maybe his second or third marriage. She left her slippers in the pizza shop, and I tried them on when no one was around.
At school, I was involved with student council, religious activities, clubs, dances and doing things with my friends. I had a lot of friends; Don, Dan, Geoff, Ken and John were the closest to me. My friendships with Dan and Geoff became even tighter when they worked at the pizza shop too.
Don once told me that he did not understand why people thought he was gay. I did not know much about gay people, but told him that maybe it was because his hair was light blond. (Obviously, I was not a budding psychologist or scientist!) I always felt that blond hair or curly hair were less masculine than other kinds of hair.
Ironically, he did turn out to be gay, as did three others in our group. None of them shared anything about their sexuality in high school. They all dated girls. We only found out later.
I never considered why anyone would be gay. Girls were attractive to me, and I spent a lot of time thinking about them. I was interested in sex, but I believed in what my parents and the Catholic Church said about no sex before marriage.
But Through and Under It All…
Throughout these seemingly normal years, I continued to have thoughts about dressing in girls’ clothes and being feminine, but I did not act on them much. There were limited clothes available and few opportunities for privacy at home.
Once I found an alternative magazine on a magazine rack; it had pictures of what I now know were drag queens. This was exciting to me, but I was afraid to buy it for fear someone would find out.
During a school presentation about sexual deviations, one of the Brothers at school held up a book with a picture of a transvestite. Everyone laughed, but I clandestinely scoured the library to see if I could find the book. I never did.
I knew from my “research” that some guys dressed as girls. Some of them looked good and some looked stupid. I wanted to dress as a girl and be like a girl, but it still seemed outside the realm of reality.
I had tried on some of my mother’s things and once congratulated myself that I had worn everything a woman wears—panties, girdle, bra, shoes and a dress. Except for these brief exciting moments, there was no chance to do much more than that. I had never seen anyone in person who did this except for bad costumes at Halloween. Those boys looked like boys in dresses, not girls. If I ever got the chance to dress as a girl, I wanted to look like a real girl. I was terrified that someone would find out about my secret.
I was interested in going away to college, but we never had the money to seriously consider it. I was determined to get a degree. I went to Cleveland State University so I could keep working at the pizza shop and live at home to keep expenses down. My parents were there for me, but I paid for college myself. Ironically, since I had gone to a private Catholic high school, my tuition actually went down when I moved to a state college.
At Cleveland State I tried to make some black friends since I did not know anyone who was black. Cleveland had a lot of racial problems back then, and I found that many of the black people I approached did not like me because I was white. I realized discrimination could go both ways.
My college years consisted of driving downtown in the morning, going to class, studying, occasionally doing things with my friends, and going home to work or do homework. All the wild things that most people did when they went away to college were not available as easily for the students who commuted.
My steady girlfriend and I dated regularly and occasionally drove to Kent State to visit friends. It gave us a chance to be more free and independent—even if just for a weekend. After two or three years of dating, she broke up with me because she found someone she liked better. I never hurt like that before. I only got through the pain because I was coaching Little League baseball. I enjoyed spending time with the kids and teaching them.
Maybe it was coincidence or a subliminal religious thing, but I dated a lot of girls named Mary. Mary and Joseph were in the Holy Family; I thought it might be a sign from God!
It took me six years to get my undergrad degree because I changed my major three times in the same quarter and then took a year off to work in a factory. I was sick of school, not sure of what I wanted to do, and decided to take some time off until I was ready. I always knew I’d eventually graduate.
My Anxiety Shows Itself
In the late ‘70s I started to get recurring panic attacks. The first one hit me when I was driving around what we call Dead Man’s Curve on the Shoreway (our name for the freeway along the lake shore) near downtown Cleveland. I was heading home after a game of flag football on the other side of town.
The panic attack came out of the blue with no warning. It did not last long, but I thought I was dying or going crazy. My head felt like I had been hit by lightning. My heart beat like never before. I thought it would jump out of my chest. I felt nervous and panicked.
After that I continued to get panic attacks off and on, but I never associated this phenomenon with my conflicted feelings about how I felt about feminine things.
Eventually I took a step toward more independence and moved in with my friend Dan from high school and another friend. We all got along well except for the occasional argument about who would clean the kitchen. It generally worked out well for everyone.
One day Dan told me he was gay. To say that I did not react well is an understatement. [Reference Chapter 6 for the whole story on that.] He had dated girls. I did not believe it.
Eventually I got over the shock and accepted it. He was still my friend. I felt bad for him when I realized how hard it was for him all those years when he did not acknowledge his true self. I told him that I did not have much of an opinion about his being gay. He obviously was attracted to guys. I did not feel like it was my place to decide moral issues for other people.
The relationships with my friends stayed the same whether they were gay or straight. I wanted to go with Dan to one of the gay bars he frequented, as I heard that they had shows where the guys dressed up as women. I wanted to see this, but I was working nights and was afraid to suggest it as someone might make the connection that I liked to dress as a woman.
Jo, the One
When I was working and in college, I met Jo, my future wife, at a party for one of my roommates who had just graduated from X-ray school. Jo worked at the hospital in Nuclear Medicine. Jo and I started out as friends but, as our friendship developed, I realized that she was the one for me. Our first date was her coming to my place to watch the Super Bowl—the Vikings against the Raiders. I was never the same after that.
One night she told me about her family and childhood. I locked in emotionally with everything she said and realized that any happiness she had made me happy, and any of her trouble and sadness became mine too. I was ready to marry her. When I proposed, I had to drink some wine before I was brave enough to ask. Fortunately she said yes.
I was happy and emotional during the wedding, but swallowed hard so no one would notice. We had a nice wedding. At the reception, the dancing began as soon as the music started. People were still in the line for food, so the partiers danced around them! The whole day was fun, and we enjoyed every minute of it. They had to kick us out of the hall at midnight. Several of us continued the party by hanging around the parking lot.