As early as 2 years old, I hated the dresses my mom would put me in to go to church. I never liked all the girly, frilly things in my bedroom or closet. I can remember at 3 years old, my favorite shirt was a beige sweatshirt with bugs bunny on it. With that and jeans and sneakers, I was totally me. At age 5, the winter olympics were on and Dorothy Hammil, the famous figure skater was on tv. I can remember my mother saying how she liked her short hair, and I told my mom I wanted my hair short like that. I was allowed to get my hair cut short for the first time in my life, and I loved it. I was often mistaken for a boy by strangers, which I loved too.
Later that same year, (1976) I finally figured out that I wasn't really a girl. I had crushes on little girls in my class at school, and ran around with the boys when they let me. I coveted my brother's toys and hated the barbies my folks got me for christmas. I began announcing to anyone who would listen, that I wanted to be a boy. The reception of this news was met by either dismissal, laughter or shame. My mother told me I wasn't a boy, that I was a girl and that was that. I was silly to think otherwise, and told to stop such nonsense. My heart was broken.
I remember in first grade, crushing on this little girl with long brown hair in my class. I opened doors for her, pulled out her chair and scooted her in to her desk, and followed her around like a puppy. One day, I boldly confessed to her that I loved her. Many people found this amusing, however my teacher did not and called my folks. I was lectured to leave her alone, so I did. My heart was broken again.
I resigned myself to being a girl with great sadness when I hit puberty. I quit playing little league baseball and was pressured to conform to the gender expectations of my sex by everyone in my life. I was made fun of by other kids, particularly my older brother, and no longer tolerated as a "tomboy". So, I grew my hair out just to get people off my back.
When my body began to change, I was horrified and miserable. Growing breasts, hips widening, new body hair, menstruating; it all was sickening to me. I hated it. But there was nothing I could do. I still refused to wear dresses, and wore jeans and androgenous clothes as much as possible, but the pressure to be feminine was HUGE. I think this was the first point (but most definitely not the last) in my life when I thought about suicide. I was so depressed. But I decided that what I felt and wanted just wasn't important to anyone, and my only value in life was connected with living up to other people's expectations of me.
So I tried to conform. I tried to wear make-up and act like my female friends, to fit in. I fell in with the drug-using crowd and got high to escape my misery. I pretended to crush on guys, all the while lying to myself about my real feelings. I ignored and suppressed my true self in order to survive my teenage years. By age 15, I was drug-addicted and cutting myself. I swallowed a whole bottle of prescription decongestants and slept for almost 20 hours, awakening to the worst headache ever and wishing I had never awakened at all.
Long story short, I went to an in-patient drug rehab and psych ward, where I was diagnosed bipolar. Then next 10 years I was clean of drugs and alcohol, but miserably depressed. In my mid to late 20s, I finally saw a therapist who helped me process all the painful things that happened in my life. At age 28, I began to talk about my feelings for girls, that I had repressed for so many years.
I finally came out as a lesbian at age 29, and met my future wife that year as well. I fell madly for her and although my hair was still long, our dynamic was clearly butch/femme. I didn't have a name for it at that time, but as I was more involved with the gay community, I began to see that some other gay women had a similar dynamic. By age 31, I was finally able to embrace my masculinity and call myself butch. Cutting my hair and shopping in the mens department was very scary, but insanely liberating. A great weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I felt so much better about me. My wife, however, did not feel the same. She eventually asked me to grow out my hair again and said ugly things to me like, "if I wanted to be with a man I would be with one." This and many other issues eventually led to our separation in 2005. Our divorce was official in 2006.
After the end of my marriage, I found a new freedom. And, I found the butch-femme community online and in the SF bay area, where I lived at the time. It was here, in this community, that I learned that sex and gender were not the same and that many people like myself considered themselves transgendered and preferred male pronouns. That totally resonated with me. As I began to hear the stories of other transguys, I realized that so much of their stories were my story too.
In 2006, I told my very good femme friend Nicole and my buddy Sugar, that I preferred male pronouns. Nicole immediately announced that I needed a new name, and went to work thinking of one for me. She tried out a few that I didn't like, then one day left a text message on my phone. It said she thought of the perfect name for me: Drew, and that I had to say yes to that one because she already changed my name in her phone to Drew, LOL. I thought about it for a while. I found myself sitting at my desk at work and practicing my signature: Drew Nelson. It seemed to fit. In December 2007 that became my legal name.
My journey continues. I am determined to start testosterone at the beginning of this next year. I want to have chest reconstruction surgery, and I'm currently trying to figure out how to raise the money for it. I am grateful to everyone in the community for helping me with my journey, and I am on my way to being the guy I was always meant to be.
