When you are in the womb, a mark gets imprinted on your brain to provide you with a gender identity. I have a disorder called Gender Identity Disorder or GID. My brain’s gender imprint does not match my body’s gender. In laymans’ terms, my birth certificate says I’m a girl, my body says I’m a girl, people always tell me that I’m a girl, but my mind says that I am a boy; this means that I am a female to male or FTM transsexual. Transsexuals are rare enough, but I am different because I am thirteen years old.
When somebody turns thirteen, they are excited about dating, middle school graduation, and going through puberty. I wasn’t excited about any of these things. Dating? When you’re thirteen, crushes are always a topic of discussion, and, as a transsexual, I would probably not be dating for a few years. Middle school graduation sounds like a lot of fun, but the “Trans-Health Conference” (a conference where transgendered kids and adults can come and be with other transgendered people) is on the same weekend as graduation! And, of course, puberty. I wasn’t excited about puberty at all! I wouldn’t be buying my first bra this year, I would be buying a chest-compressing vest or a “binder.” I wouldn’t be getting my period, I’d by getting a small capsule of medication implanted in my arm to stop me from getting a period. I wouldn’t be looking forward to my 18th birthday because I would be allowed to fly a plane alone, I would be looking forward to my 18th birthday because I can get gender reassignment surgery without parents consent.
Aside from my worries about puberty, graduation, and dating, I was very happy. I had- and still do have- great friends in, as well as out of school. I was getting 80s and 90s on tests, had just gotten a gold fish named Mikey, as well as a brand new black bicycle and a Wii. I was healthy, happy, and loved life. That, and I was counting the days until summer, when I could go to FWF Summer Camp. I had been to FWF before, and I had a great time; I made lot’s of friends, and had discovered that I love rock climbing! I was so excited, but also a little nervous. I had come out as transsexual at camp the prior year. I knew that, since nobody knew me at camp, it was the prime chance to come out! It was completely fine! There was even a transsexual counselor there who I became good friends with!
This year, however, would be different. I was in the process of physically transitioning, and I was a bit less easygoing about people calling me “she” or “her.” I was worried, but I kept on telling myself it would be fine.
It wasn’t.
I knew that it would be an awful three weeks after the first five minutes I was there, and they checked me into my cabin. “Er… Iris Preiss…” I said, hesitantly. “Uh, I’m sorry, I just have to go talk to the director for a minute,” said the man at the computer. “Why?” “It say’s here that you’re in a girls’ cabin.”
And then when my counselor came into the cabin, she said, “Look, FWF has a strict rule about boys being even near a girls’ cabin, you’ve got to leave.”
“I’m sorry, m’am, I’m a girl… sort of…”
She thought I was joking. I was glad, in a way, that she believed that I was a boy. I didn’t end up getting in trouble that day.
When I took my swimming test, they told me to take my shirt off. “Uh, sorry, I have to keep it on because my skin is pale and gets burnt easily.” I looked like a geek with all the other shirtless boys standing around me.
Whenever I got a package from the mail room, I’d have to show them my slip that said Girls 8B, and they’d give me a strange look.
I’d have to make up an excuse for being in a girls’ cabin whenever anybody asked, “oh, what cabin are you in?”
FWF has a carnival every second session. My cabin set up a “marriage” booth where two people would walk down an aisle made of toilet paper, and receive ring-pops. When I was off my shift, I was walking around the camp, and I spotted my friend’s boyfriend, Chuck. “Hey, you’re Jennifer’s boyfriend, right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “And you’re the he-she, right?”
I was shocked. I knew that people talked to me behind my back; they called me a he-she, a slut, worthless as a dog, but nobody ever said it up front to me.
“Um…”
My friend, Dana, heard and walked up to us. “How dare you say that about him?” She yelled.
“What, she’s a he-she! She’s in a girls’ cabin!”
“So what, you jerk?”
“She’s not really a boy! Her real name is Iris!”
Dana and I were incredibly annoyed at Chuck, but we quickly forgot about it when our friend hurt her foot and we had to take her to the infirmary.
A few days later, I saw Jennifer and Chuck walking around camp. “Hey, Chuck! Don’t you owe me an apology?”
“Uh… yeah, sorry,” he said.
I was pleased with myself, but Jennifer gave me a mean glare.
Back at the cabin, while our counselor was in the shower, Jennifer approached me. “Don’t you EVER talk to my boyfriend again, you faggot!”
I was shocked, and all the girls in the cabin were shocked. “What?” I retorted. “He said something awful to me, and I made him apologize.”
“I don’t care,” said Jennifer, “if you pull something like that again, I swear I’ll…” she shook her fist.
“Okay, whatever,” I said, nonchalantly.
She looked at me for a minute, and I figured that she would walk away, but she didn’t. Instead of walking away, she took her hand, and slapped me across the face.
I never told my counselor that she did that. I was afraid she’d do it again. She had punched me in the arm before, and kicked me in the stomach. I decided I’d just stay away from her.
When I think about it today, I realize that what happened to me wasn’t terrible. Hundreds of transgendered people are the victim of hate crimes every year, and I was just a victim of some teenager bullying. People get killed, abused, and abandoned because of their gender identity.
When I brought this up at my school, asking to make a speech about it after school in the auditorium for those who wanted to join, they said no because if I talked about this, they’d have to let everybody talk about something important to them. That made me furious. “You should,” I replied, looking at my feet. “Excuse me?”
“If something’s important to the students as well as the world, you should give them a chance to talk about it.”
Fifty-five people died in California in ’08 because of transgender prejudice. In ’06, around 40 people died in New York. If people still don’t think that transgender prejudice is a problem, talk to the victim of it. Talk to me.