The Pinky Confessions 1

There is a debate about transgender children. Should a Child be allowed to change gender? Some parents even allow their children to be drag kids! Should we allow this so the child is happy? Or is this just a form of child abuse?
You may know me as Pinky and read a lot about me. This is my story in my words.
A story of who I was, who I wanted to be, who others wanted me to be and who people thought I was

There has been a debate in the media on a recent trend today. The debate is about drag kids. We all know that drag queens have existed from the beginning of time and now some parents allow their children to dress in drag. The parents will argue that it is innocent fun. The critics would argue that it is child abuse and can scar a child for life. When you look at videos of these drag kids, you wonder if this is something they really want. You wonder how their parents would allow this. Are these children happy? Is it their choice? Where is the boundary for when it can be considered child abuse and not just the excuse that children are having fun?

In some countries, governments are considering that children should have the right to decide their gender. When a child wants to be the other gender, they are politically correctly understood and given this chance. Parents that allow this will say that they want their child to be happy. In some countries, children can get help such as hormones or puberty blockers at a very young age. The critical question we must ask here is when is someone old enough and mature enough to make such decisions? Was the child influenced in any way? Did the child get proper counselling and help with its gender identification problems?

I will not preach about this. I just wanted you to have this in your mind while you read my story. They say there are two sides to every coin. You will hear my side and you can judge yourself on what happened to me in my childhood.

Everyone knows me as Chrissy or my nickname pinky. What you know is what you have read in the media or seen on TV. Maybe you even heard some gossip. There is a lot that you do not know and maybe you should hear my story from me. This is a story about my childhood. I will let you decide if I was a victim of child abuse or if what I experienced was done out of love and understanding.

I was born in a middle-class family. My Dad wrote books, so I was lucky enough that he worked at home. He was very athletic. I was always impressed at how much hair he had on his arms and yet he was bald. He was not a famous author, but he did well enough that our family had enough money. This is also because Dad came from a very rich family, so even at his age, he had an allowance. Otherwise, Dad was a person that talked a lot. He liked being the centre of attention and thought that everything he said was wisdom itself. Dad was one of those Dads that liked to spend time with his children. In this way, we were lucky.

Mom was a housewife. She was so pretty that she could have been the most famous model in the world. Unlike Dad, she was quiet and only talked when she needed to. She did not have the need to be the centre of attention. She was the type of person that took pride in her role as a mother and she wanted everyone to feel happy and wanted. At the same time, my mother also could be strict. She did not want brats as children or for us to be spoiled. She often told us that she wanted us to be people that made this world a better place.

I also had a sister that was older than me. She was nice and not too bossy. She always had a lot of friends. From an early age, I always looked up to my big sister. She was smart and funny and was liked by everyone. Sometimes she could be very girly and at other times she could be a tomboy. I felt that I was lucky to have her as a sister. She helped me in many ways and would give me advice. My sister would hate it if I was sad or scared about something, and do her best to make me feel better.

So that was the family that I was born into. Compared to other families where there is poverty or domestic violence or parents that do not love their children, I had a good start in life.

Unlike other stories you hear of transgender children, I never thought that I was a girl in a boy's body. I never wanted to be a girl. I do not think, I even thought of the difference between boys and girls. We did not have boy toys or girl toys. A lot of the toys we had were educational. I remember once that mom got mad when I was pretending to be a cowboy with a gun. She thought that it was wrong that I pretended to have a gun and explained that guns are meant to injure and kill. She did not want me to play anything that glorified violence. At the same time, my parents did not mind if I played with my sister's dolls or her toys. To be honest, I did not care what I played with. My main goal was just to have fun.

I think my life changed in the most innocent way. When I was at preschool, we were told one day that we could dress up. We all ran to the chests where there were costumes and other clothes. For some reason, I picked a princess dress. When I put it on, I thought it was so strange and yet so pretty. I noticed that the other boys were wearing superhero costumes. Maybe it was because of our young age, but no one teased me that I was wearing a dress. The only one that commented it was the teacher when she asked me If I was sure I wanted to wear a princess dress. She explained that only girls ever wanted to wear dresses. I just shrugged my shoulder and told her it was just pretending. I thought the dress was pretty, but it did not make me feel any different than I did when I wore boy clothes.

When I was home that night, Dad told me that we had to have a talk. I always hated when he said this. It usually meant that I have done something wrong. Dad was smiling when he started to talk and this made me relax more. He told me that he heard that I wore a dress at preschool. He asked me if I could tell him why I preferred to dress as a princess and not a spiderman. I just shrugged my shoulders and told him that I did not think. I just took the dress and wore it. I never thought that it was wrong or forbidden.

My Dad smiled once again and told me that I was not in trouble.

“You have also been a special child,” he explained, “It is great that you were brave enough to wear a dress. Some boys realize that they were born in the wrong body and should have been born as a girl. This could be the case with you! Maybe you were meant to be born as a girl. I just want to tell you that if you ever discover that you are a girl, then I hope you will be brave enough to tell me. I will support you in every way I can. Unlike when I was a child, it is more accepted now that boys can decide that they want to be a girl. In this case, you would not be my son, but my daughter that I would love just as much!”

I did not respond. The fact was that this talk confused me so much. I knew that I had a boy's body and never thought of what it would be like to be a girl. I was always happy the way that I was. The only difference between me and other boys was that I had shoulder-length hair. Dad always thought it was a shame to cut my hair and I did not like short hair. This did not mean that I wanted to be a girl. The whole chat with Dad made me wonder if Dad wanted me to be a girl. Was he disappointed that I was born a boy? Why did he not tell me it was fine that I was happy being a boy?

All this was because I wore a dress once at school. It taught me one thing. I would never wear a dress again. It caused too much confusion.

I did promise that I would never wear a dress again, but this did not last long. It was nearly time for Halloween and it was time when we could wear a costume. I did not know what I wanted to dress as. I thought of dressing as superman. I even told dad this and he said that he would buy my costume. When he came home, he told me that he did not buy the superman costume, but found something that he knew I would love. It was an Alice in Wonderland costume. A frilly dress and tights! I looked at it speechless. I wanted to scream. It was obvious that Dad wanted me to wear a dress. I tried telling myself that he just thought he was supporting me. I did not protest as I did not want to make my Dad sad.

So I was once again dressed as a girl. I told myself that this was Halloween so it did not matter. After a while, I did not think much about the dress. I was pretending to be Alice. This did not mean that I was her. The dress was pretty and the tights felt nice on my legs. I could understand why girls wanted to wear pretty dresses. It made them feel special. I suppose this was the same when a boy wore football shorts. The boys thought they were sports stars. None of my friends said much about a dress. Some did say they would never wear a dress and the older boys called me a sissy. A big reaction came from the adults. They asked me if I was a boy. When I said yes, they were confused and asked why a boy would ever wear a dress. I did not want to tell them that it was a present from Dad.

A few days later, I asked dad what a sissy is.
“I do not like the word sissy,” he answered, “The right word is transgender. It's when a boy feels that he is a girl born in a boy's body. You liked wearing the dress and it made you feel special and brave. You are finding out who you really are, and as I promised you that I would support you in every way I could!”