It seems like a million years ago and just yesterday at the same time. I was 12 years old and it was undoubtedly the single most traumatic event of my youth. The devastating emotional impact lasted for many years after.

I first realized my desire to dress in women’s clothes at about the age of 3 or 4. I didn’t know what it all meant, but I knew enough to keep it a secret. It’s interesting that even at such a young age, the social taboo of crossdressing was already heavily cemented in my mind. It seems like from the time I was born, I was taught of the need to fit in to the socially accepted norm of the “male gender role” because of my genitals. How else would a 4 year old know to guard this little secret as if his life depended on it?
Continue reading Getting Busted and Learning to Hate Myself →