Member-only story
When I was very young, my parents did what so many others do. They constructed a gender box and forced me into it.
As I grew up, I had no choice. I was a boy and was expected to do boy things. Even to the point of receiving gifts on Christmas I did not really want. My primary example came one year when I secretly wanted a doll or kitchen set and I received a BB Gun instead. I was the opposite from the “Ralphie” character in the “Christmas Story” movie. For you that don’t know, Ralphie wanted a BB Gun in the movie in the worst way.
As I grew and began to gain confidence in cross dressing as a girl, my gender box became smaller and smaller. On most days, it was a struggle to just exist in the world as I knew it. The worst part about it was I never had a choice. It was like I was a round peg being driven into a square hole and being told to like it. I didn’t like it and my struggles led to a worsening of my gender dysphoria and mental health. Perhaps the worst part about my situation in those days was I had no one to talk to about it and knew no one with similar gender issues. I was so alone in my little gender box.
As I struggled forward in life, I discovered there were others who were in their own gender boxes and struggling with similar problems also. I like to refer to those days as my “Virginia Prince” and “Transvestia Magazine” days. First I could not…
