The Pinky Confessions 3

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

My sister and I were in my bedroom. She was brushing my hair and putting it in pigtails. She liked being a hairdresser and I thought that it was relaxing. We were silent as we could hear our parents fighting below.

“Why can he not be like any normal boy?” My mom asked
“He is not like other boys” My Dad responded.
“That is because you are pushing him to think he is a girl”
“This is not true. I am supporting him in his journey. Maybe you should do the same!”
“Our son did not ask for panties. He did not ask for the clothes he wears. He did not ask for earrings. He wanted short hair and was not even allowed this. Not once did he say that he felt like a girl. This is something you are trying to change him into.”
“I know Chrissy. I am not forcing anything upon my child. I am supporting Chrissy”
“You won't even call him your son! Maybe you should ask him what he wants. The problem is that people are afraid to defy you or discuss anything with you, because of your temper!”

My sister hugged me and told me that the argument was not my fault. I did not believe this. Of course, it was my fault. My parents were discussing me! They both were thinking that they were doing the best for me. It was strange that they were discussing if I wanted to be a girl or a boy. They could have asked me what I wanted. Then again, maybe this would not be so wise. If I had to answer them, then I would be in the middle of their fight. It would look like I was supporting one of them. Another problem is that I would not know what to answer. I did not want to be a girl. At the same time, I knew that I was girly. I could have said no to what Dad did, but I never protested and accepted it. I did not dare to protest. I also admit that I did like pastel colours and I did like my dollhouse!

The school was not as fun as it once was. I had no friends. The others considered me weird and strange. I was at first asked if I was a sissy, and after a while, everyone just called me sissy. When they saw the earrings, I was told that I was gay. I still did not understand what it meant to be gay besides you would want to marry a boy. I did not understand why they thought I would want to do that. Being called names was bad, but the worse was that I had no friends. I accepted that I was girly. I did not know why this made others afraid of me or why they thought it was strange. Maybe they were afraid it was a disease and they would get it.

One good thing about my life was the success I had on youtube. I did more videos where I would sing some songs. I liked ballads as that meant I could experiment with my voice a lot more. They also touched my heart. It was hard to believe that I had so many supporters and people that watched the videos. It was still embarrassing that they could not see if I was a boy or a girl.

Dad asked me if I wanted to sing a song at a New Year's party my family was having for extended family and friends. I told him that I would. I was proud of myself that I was no longer shy and did not mind singing for others. It helped that they would not be strangers. So when New Year's Eve came, I sang a few songs. The reaction was spectacular. They loved my performance. It took me a while to come back down to earth after it. When I performed, it was so special. It was an incredible feeling. I felt as if I had the audience and all their emotions in my hands. I felt as if I had the power to make people smile. It was as if my small performance made the world a better place to live in. It was so much fun that when Dad asked me if I wanted to perform again, I jumped with joy. Dad explained to me that the videos I did resulted in some wanting to see me live. Any money I would make would go into my special bank account.

I was beginning to understand how girly I was. I was not living as a girl or thought that I was one. I did not want to be a girl. There was one program on TV that Dad liked to watch with me. It was about men that had to dress up as drag queens. Dad would tell me how brave they were for finding their true self and how pretty they were. I smiled although deep inside I disagreed. I thought some of the men that dressed as drag queens were ugly. They did not look at all feminine. They did look as if they were having fun and that couldn't be bad. When I looked in the mirror, I could see why some people asked me if I looked like a girl. I did look like a girl! The problem is what would happen as I grew older? Would I look like one of the ugly drag queens when puberty hit? I know that would be in several years, but this TV show made me think about it.

It seemed as if Dad was influenced by the drag show on TV as well. He bought make-up for my sister and told her to let me use it as well. There was eye shadow, mascara, blushes, lipstick and different nail polishes. I had no intention of using make-up. It would make me look like a clown. I did watch my sister when she did it. She was quite good at it. She did not plaster it on her face. Dad kept on pressuring me when I was going to try using make-up. I would try to tell him that I did not want to. That did not stop Dad from asking over and over again. In the end, I just let my sister put a small bit of eye shadow on me, mascara and lipgloss. Dad told me that it made me look pretty.

My sister and I would now play with the make-up where she would paint my face with it. I did not wear it to school or outside the house. I would be teased even more if I did that. I grew to like wearing make-up at home. It was a special bond that I had with my sister. It also made me feel special. I do not know how to describe this. I suppose it made me feel older or something like that. It did occur to me that this only made me more girly. At the same time, I did not see a problem with it. It was my Dad's suggestion and as long as I did not wear make-up outside the house, it was fine.

This was not enough for Dad. One day he told me that we should talk. I still hated these talks.
“You are a special child,” he said, “You love performing. You have a chance to be a role model and influence the world. You have a chance to help many boys who are confused about their identity. You can help them and I will support you. In other words, I think it would be good that when you perform, you dress as a female pop star. You have the looks. It will be just like those men we saw in the TV drag show”

Dad wanted me to be a drag kid and even one in public. Was this even legal? What would I say to him?