My Life Before I Knew

I was born the way I am.  We all were, weren’t we?  But the way I was born is considered wrong, or flawed, or weird or strange or pervy or evil…soo much ignorance and fear, and it is like fighting the pull of the Niagara River as it rushes towards the chasm and flings itself off.  It is tiring and draining.

Let me tell you what I remember, and I think I will space this info out over a lot of posts…but for now let me just say that from the time I was little I always felt as if I didn’t belong in this life, because I didn’t fit.  See, I thought I was a girl.

Yes.  My earliest memories and feelings were that I was a girl.

I know, right?  What a freak and weirdo for sure.  You now have reason to hate me and reject me if you wish…don’t let me stop you.  Far better than you have already been down that road, and yet I survive.

My first friends I remember were little girls, and I LOVED playing with them.  We played dolls and hopscotch and jacks, and then inevitably we discovered that I was not like them, and we tried to figure out how to get that weird thing between my legs off of me.

(Note that they did not think that they needed to get one to be a girl, and I intuitively knew I needed to get that thing off me to actually be a girl…how we knew that, I am not sure).

But we got caught…and I was accused of being a little freak and pervert, of doing “sex things” (I didn’t even know what that was)…and over the next few years I was brought to the place where I knew in my inner core and gut that I was wrong…I did not belong…I was called a boy and I knew I was not a boy, and I wanted to be a girl, but looking at myself it was clear that I was in a boy’s body…

…therefore I was nothing…my identity was in what I was not.  Not a boy…Not a girl…I was null.


And I cannot find the words to tell you how that aches.  It is like the phantom limb syndrome, but the missing limb for me was a sense of self…identity.

WHO WAS I???  I knew who I was not, but had no access to who I was.

Well…I got on with life,  And praise God that He took interest in me, preserved me and redeemed me.

And now…finding out about myself, and not denying it, not repressing it or running anymore…

Know what the deepest agony is now?  Knowing that I have to choose between me being happy and most of the people in my life freaking out and withdrawing their love and being distant at best…or rejecting me and treating me as if I died at worst…or the other choice is to not be me, to live as the prisoner that I was born, and continue to be the supporting actress in the lives of all the people I know, a Shakespeare player cross dressing for the sake of others.  They will never know the sacrifice, they will never even care really…as long as I am not what they do not accept, they will carry on.

It is hard to know what the right thing is, the loving thing is, the sacrificial thing is.  Over time I will make the arguments I guess…

But know this:  if you are here, and you accept me as I am just as you would any human being, you have given a cup of cold water to Jesus Himself, and visited a prisoner in jail who turned out to be Jesus…for I am the least of those…

…and if you are here, and you are angry at me, offended with me, judging me as lost or perverted or evil or selfish or ungodly…you go…keep it up, you are really putting me in my place, aren’t you?  Giving me the punishment I deserve…for something that I did not choose or do…be born transgender…the greatest crime of all.

Good Job Jauvert!  You RULE!

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