The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1373 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Gina Herring sat nervously sipping her tea. “What don’t you know?” I asked her.

“I–um–love little Carl, but I don’t know if I can cope with him wanting to be a girl.”

“What’s there to cope with?”

“The embarrassment.”

“Yours or his?”

“Mine I suppose, how do I face the neighbours? What do I tell my parents, and my husband–thinks it’s dreadful–I just don’t know what to do?”

“Have you been in touch with Mermaids?”

“Dr Rose gave me a website address–did you use them?”

“I didn’t need to, I just accepted what they wanted to do, Simon and Daddy and the others came on board just as quickly.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I didn’t–we all love the children, so when it happened we accepted it in the same way we would have done if they’d had red hair or been black skinned or anything else which they have no control over.”

“I guess they don’t.”

“Look gender identity is so important, it’s probably determined between the second and fourth years of life, and ever after their experiences either confirm or reject what they feel.

“What’s total irrational is that if a girl starts acting like a boy, it’s seen as okay–if a boy starts acting like a girl–he’s some sort of freak. Why? We are all human beings, so why does it matter if we’re men or women black or white or anything else–I’ll tell you why–because we live in a patriarchy, that’s why.” I got off my feminist soap box.

“You didn’t find it strange that your son wanted to dress like a girl?”

“No, I like to dress as one–don’t you?”

“Yes, but we’re females–so it’s okay.”

“What’s wrong with a boy dressing as a girl–I’m wearing trousers, I’ll bet you do too.”

“Of course I do, but for a boy to wear skirts and call himself Carla, is wrong.”

“It is to you, it obviously isn’t to her.” I emphasised the pronoun.

“But it’s he not she.”

“Not in her eyes. You’re seeing the world through your eyes–so you’ll never understand–you have to try and see it through hers.”

I went and got a copy of the French film, Ma vie en Rose, which is a beautiful film and shows as well as anything I’ve seen, the world through the eyes of a transgendered child. The little boy who plays the lead is wonderful. I handed it to Gina–“Watch this with your husband–it might help.”

“Is it a documentary?”

“No it’s a feature film, but it’s beautifully done–have some tissues with you.”

“Is it sad?”

“Not really, it’s just so beautiful you’ll want to cry–I did.”

“Thank you.”

She sipped another cuppa, “So you think I’ve just got to be brave for Carl’s sake.”

“You have to be brave for Carla’s sake, and to carry the others through. Speak with Mermaids, they’re good and Dr Rose can give you the name of a good children’s psychiatrist.”

“Psychiatrist?” she gasped, “He’s not mentally ill is he?”

“No, if she is transgendered, then she’s not mentally ill, but could become so if she’s not allowed to express it–depressed and so on. It isn’t an illness it’s a variation on the norm, like left-handedness.”

“You won’t be ostracised because you write with the other hand, will you? So how can you compare the two, they’re hardly the same are they? People don’t laugh at you because you’re left handed.”

“People soon stop laughing if you take no notice.”

“How can I deal with him going to school?”

“Send her to a girl’s school.”

“They’re hardly likely to accept a boy in skirts, are they?”

“If you see her as a boy in skirts, then how can you expect others to see her any other? If you can’t be bothered–why should anyone else?”

A tear rolled down her face. “How did you deal with it?”

“I never saw her as a boy in skirts, I saw her as a girl with a plumbing problem.”

“You’re a very special mum, aren’t you?” she said and I think she meant it in a positive way.

“No more than you–I was able to deal with it–so will you and for the same reason–we love our children and we do what we have to do for them to be happy.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If I can be of any further help.” I handed her my mobile number, “Feel free to call if you need to talk.”

“Mummy can we have a drink?” called Trish.

“Yes, can you do it?”

“Of course I can, Mummy, I am seven you know.” She popped her head round the door–“Oh, sorry–can I give Carla one, as well?”

Gina nodded and Trish laughed and ran off. “Why is she calling him Carla?”

“She doesn’t have the inhibitions you have, besides she likes being a girl and thinks everyone else should too.”

“So which one of yours is gender variant?”

“You tell me.” I stood up and walked towards the kitchen beckoning her to follow. Trish was pouring squash into plastic beakers and Livvie was filling them from the filter jug of cold water. Meems was holding the biscuit tin and Carla was wearing one of Meems’ dresses, which fit quite well, she also had painted toenails and fingernails and loads of bangles on her arm. Looks like the girls have been playing with a life size Barbie doll.

“There you are, Carla,” said Livvie handing out the beakers, and the little painted fingers accepted it.

“Thank you, Livvie,” said the child who turned round and seeing us standing there squealed and dropped the beaker, “Mummy,” she shrieked and began to cry.

“Baby,” said Gina and picked up her child, both were now crying.

“Bugger,” said Trish and went to get a cloth.

“I didn’t know you were there, Mummy,” sobbed Carla.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, baby,” Gina sobbed back.

“I’ve been playing with the other girls–it was so nice. I’m sorry I dropped my cup, Lady.”

“It’s Mrs Cameron,” corrected his mother.

“Actu–lee, it’s Lady Cameron,” corrected Trish cleaning up the spilt drink with the floor mop, “And my daddy’s Lord Cameron.”

“Is this right–you’re Lady Cameron?”

“I’m afraid so, though we tend to downplay it most of the time.”

“I saw you mentioned in the local paper–you’re an actress aren’t you?”

“No–I’m a biologist.”

“They said you were starring in some play with Matthew Hines, the film star.”

“He’s agreed to help out to raise money for my daughter’s school.”

“But you’re acting too?”

“Yes, but I’m not an actress–I’m a teacher.” Though in some respects it’s the same thing, trying to hold the attention of your audience to entertain or inform them.

“C’mon, Carl, better get you changed back to go home.”

“Do I have to, Mummy?”

“Yes, you need to give the little girl her dress back.”

“That’s okay, it’s one of my owd ones,” said Meems, and I nodded in agreement.

Livvie appeared a few moments later with Carla’s boy stuff in a plastic carrier bag.

“His father’s going to kill us,” said Gina pulling a face. “You sure I can cope with this?”

“D’you love her?”

She nodded and a tear escaped her eye, “Yes,” she croaked.

“Then you’ll cope.”

“Thank you, um–Lady Cam...”

“It’s Cathy–and call me if you need to talk.”

“Can I go to a girl’s school like Trish and Mima do, Mummy?”

“I don’t know s–girl, one thing at a time eh?”

I walked them to the car.

“I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“If what you do is done with love, and real love not the imaginary or selfish sort–how can you do wrong. Follow your heart, it won’t lead you far wrong.”

“I’ll try,” she said getting into the car. “Thanks, Cathy.”

I smiled and surrounded by four girls and Danny waved her and her daughter off. I had grave doubts that it would work out for little Carla, but I bathed her in blue light as she got in the car and I hoped it would help.

Trailer for Ma vie en Rose
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0b0F8HAJgI