CHAPTER 51 -- At the Support Group

Doris kept bugging me til I looked up the trans groups in town. Basically, there was one, which met every second and fourth Thursday. I agreed to go, but only if she'd come with me.

"But I'm not trans," she protested. "Oh, well, we can go together, and if they don't allow non-trans people, they can throw me out."

"Then I'll leave, too."

The group met in a room at a Methodist church sort of downtown. My uncle and I picked up Doris and he drove us over to the church. We found the parish house, where only one room had a light on, which we figured must be the place. There were about twenty people milling around. Someone pointed us to a table with name tags and told us to write our names and preferred pronouns.

"Maybe I should put down 'male pronouns'", Doris whispered to me.

"Do it and I'll tell everyone at school you're planning a sex change," I hissed. But she was already writing "Pronoun: she, her, etc." on her tag. We stood around feeling awkward for a few minutes until someone said they were starting. We found two chairs next to each other in a circle of chairs.

We started off by saying our names and pronouns and, if we felt like it, something about ourselves. Well, I thought I could handle the name part. But I was still nervous. When it got to me, I said, "I'm Melanie. I use female pronouns, but you can use whatever you want." Verbal diarrhea, I thought. I couldn't help adding, even though I felt stupid doing it, "and this is my friend Doris. She's just here to give me moral support. I hope it's okay." Doris rolled her eyes.

Somebody said, "of course. Welcome to both of you." And the person next to Doris said their name. Her name, since she said "female pronouns."

Now that I'd said my bit and wasn't so nervous, I could look around at the people. There were all ages. I think we were the youngest. Some looked like regular men and women, and I'd have assumed that's what they were if we were anyplace else. I mean, they came in all shapes and sizes, but that's like normal people. Some looked like guys trying to look like women, some looked like butch women. And some I wasn't sure about. I could see why they asked us to say what pronouns we wanted. I was a little weirded out just by being there, and a little more by the people who didn't look like regular people. But then I thought about how Eric had been with me and I didn't want to be like that, so I told my weird-out to get lost.

After the intros, they explained the rules, like how you weren't supposed to tell anybody outside what people had said here and you were supposed to let people say their piece without interrupting and not answer back or argue with them. Some of the people talked about the stuff they were dealing with. Sometimes it had to do with transition, sometimes it was just life. I was feeling like maybe I wouldn't have to do anything and feeling glad about it when the person who seemed to be leading the group asked me, "Melanie, do you want to say anything about yourself? You don't have to."

"I guess I don't mind, but -- I don't know what to say. I think I'm pretty boring," and sort of laughed. Nervous. Doris muttered, "you are not boring!" so everyone could hear it.

"Do you want to say how you came to realize you were female? Or how you managed to do your transition? You look like you're about --"

"Sixteen."

"You look like you've been on hormones for several years. I didn't know they were giving hormones to children that young."

"It's a little complicated. Kind of a weird story. Actually, I didn't, like, realize I was female and ask for a sex change. I didn't actually want to be a girl at all. And I didn't exactly take hormones, either. I mean, I guess I have hormones in me, but--." This was sounding pretty stupid. "I guess I have to tell the whole stupid story. You see, I was a boy until about, what, two years ago. I got a real bad concussion, they thought I'd die or have permanent brain damage, so they sent me down to the University Hospital for this experimental gene-therapy treatment that was supposed to repair the brain damage. Only the people who do the gene-therapy stuff were also testing this gene-therapy sex-change treatment and they mixed me up with the guy who wanted the sex change, and nobody realized it. My brain recovered anyway--"

"Sometimes I wonder...." Doris interrupted.

I gave her a dirty look. "-- but then my body started changing. It wasn't until I'd mostly changed into a girl that they figured out the mix-up."

"You mean, your body just started growing and shrinking in various places, all by itself?" someone asked. "No surgery?"

"Yeah. My, uh, penis and all just kind of gradually shrank into my body and when it was done, I had a, well, a vagina. And I started growing breasts. And my body shape changed a little, too. It was weird. After six months or so you wouldn't have believed I'd ever been a boy, even if you saw me naked."

"Weren't you upset?" someone else asked.

"I don't know. I kind of didn't have a chance. The people at school were so awful about it, picking on me, calling me names, stuff like that, that I was too busy worrying about just kind of staying alive. The school didn't do anything because it was the popular kids who were doing it and I was one of the losers who nobody cared about. Then some guys tried to rape me, and then I tried to commit suicide, and, well, my aunt and uncle arranged to get me out of that school and into this school where they don't allow kids to bully other kids. By then, I looked completely like a girl, so I figured it was easier to just say I was a girl. I've been living as a girl ever since. My cousin helped me a lot. And my friends." I looked at Doris.

I looked around. I thought maybe they thought I was making it all up. "If you don't believe me, you can ask the people at the gene-therapy department. Dr. Newcomb is the guy who runs it."

The leader said, "I've heard of Dr. Newcomb. We've asked him to give us a talk about his research. I didn't know he'd gotten to the point of actually treating people."

"Do you feel any dysphoria?" someone asked.

"Maybe we shouldn't be interrogating her," someone else said.

"It's okay. What was that word?"

"Dysphoria. When you feel like you're in the wrong body. Like you're really a boy, just stuck in a girl's body. And unhappy about it."

"Well, it was hard at first. Life as a boy wasn't all that great, but it was what I was used to. And all your life, everyone acts like being like a girl is the worst thing in the world. But once I started living as a girl, it wasn't so bad. I've gotten to like it, actually. Some of the girl stuff is pretty fun. Once I got past my 'boys aren't supposed to like girl stuff' attitude. And I've got some really nice friends. Like Doris." I put my arm around her and she tried to look proud and humble at the same time.

"But what do you feel like inside? Is your essence male or female? Do you identify as a boy or a girl?"

I was having some trouble understanding what she wanted. "I dunno. I guess I feel like me inside. I don't feel like I'm any different from what I was before. Inside, I mean. Is that what you're asking?"

Fortunately, they stopped asking me stuff I couldn't answer and went on to somebody else. I heard a lot about families that wouldn't have anything to do with someone after they said they were trans, or wouldn't let them see their kids any more. And legal problems. Like when their driver's license and stuff say they're one thing, but they've changed themselves into the other sex. I'm pretty lucky, I thought.

After all the discussion, we had a break where we milled around and had juice and coffee and cookies and stuff. This guy came over to us and told us how they were glad we came and we should be sure to come back. He was really nice, not macho like some guys. Then he asked me, "I can't help wondering, though. Your experience is so different from most of us. What do you think you could get out of coming here? Is there some sort of support we can give you?"

I said, "I mostly came because Doris said I should."

"Melanie," she said, with this long-suffering look. "I said you should because you keep telling me you feel like a freak. All this 'am I really a boy or a girl?' stuff. Maybe the people here can help you. Or at least show you you're not a freak."

The guy -- his name was John, by the way -- laughed and said, "we all feel like freaks some of the time. You get used to it. It's nice getting together like this because here, being trans is normal. And people understand what you're going through. It's normal, when you've switched genders, to be a little confused about what you 'really' are."

Some other people came up and talked with us. They were all pretty nice, and they didn't ask me questions I couldn't understand. One of the women asked if she could give me a hug, and I said, yes, but I wasn't sure if I liked it.

On our way back from the support group, I told my uncle I'd like to change my legal name and gender. I don't know why, except that I couldn't see any reason not to any more. It wouldn't change who I was, I'd still be a girl who used to be a boy, but it would make things like getting a driver's license easier. I wouldn't have to be explaining my history to every cop and bureaucrat.