Turning Corners

My name is Joanne and I’m 32 years old. Such details may seem trivial to you, but my name and age are not at all trivial. I used to be called John and I was always simultaneously too young and too old. Too young to be allowed to decide who I was and too old to live a life others dictated. “To be or not to be?” was an ongoing dilemma. I never thought I’d make it to 32, I didn’t want to. I was trapped in the wrong body, wrong family, wrong era...

My Body

My first memory is of me touching myself, as little boys do, and feeling uneasy. Such fondling, I am told, usually brings great comfort and pleasure to males. Not for me. I realised early on that something was wrong but it took years before I knew what it was and many more before I was permitted to do anything about it.

My first female hormone pills were round, bright yellow tablets. As my chest swelled, I could feel these drops of sunlight brighten up the darkest corners within me. As John disappeared, Joanne was given life.

It was nearly 5 years later when I was finally able to leave John behind. The flesh dangling between my legs was a constant reminder that I was only half a women and more than half a man. It was a glorious sunny day when I walked into the surgeon’s office, still partly John, and returned home 2 days later, a more complete Joanne. My body was finally as it always should have been.

My Family

It was my first day of school and my mother was impatiently buttoning up my shirt. Not that I wasn’t able to do this myself but I had put on a different shirt and my mother wasn’t pleased. “Take off your sister’s shirt, John!” was her morning greeting. Her stern tone indicated that this was non-negotiable but I stared at her blankly, hoping that perhaps this once she’d allow me to exit the house wearing something truly appropriate. On this occasion, and all others during the first 18 years of my life, my preference was of little significance. With my blue shirt buttoned, my khaki trousers zipped and my blue lunchbox packed into my superman school bag, my mother felt I was ready for school. When we arrived, my mother showed me to my classroom, introduced me to my teacher, and walked off shouting “be a good boy!"

My parents love for Jesus surpassed their love for me and the neighbour’s opinions were of greater concern than my own. I felt like an outsider in my own family, and as the years passed, my loneliness and bitterness intensified. When my mother called me a disgrace or my father pretended I didn’t exist, I would mentally creep into a dark corner and wait. On a good day I’d wait for better days, on a bad day I’d plan my demise and wait for the courage to follow through. It took years before a truer sort of courage helped me farewell my dark corner and embrace life. It took even longer for my family to farewell John and embrace Joanne.

On my 21^st birthday, my parents and older sister came to visit me at university. I had been living as Joanne for nearly 3 years but my family were still growing used to the person I’d always been. We made our way to a local restaurant and awkwardly sat around a small table. I asked my sister how my little nephew was. Cute photos were passed round, funny stories shared, and the tension dispersed. “He looks like you did as a child” my mother said. I tensed up, prepared for the insults. “You look good now too” my father said and all nodded in agreement. I relaxed, accepted the extended olive branch and smiled. My mother rummaged through her bag and nervously presented a little parcel. They all watched as I unwrapped my birthday gift. When I saw the beautiful pendant with my name on it, tears filled my eyes. I knew the meaning of their gift, they knew the meaning of my tears. My sister helped me put my ‘Joanne’ necklace on and we all enjoyed the first of many pleasant lunches together.

My Era

I was born in a little town in New Zealand called Pukekohe. As is characteristic of little towns, everyone knew each other and took “interest” in each other. “Why do you dress like that?” neighbours would ask. “Your hair is too long for a young man”, others would comment. My class mates weren’t as polite. On one occasion when I’d returned home with a black eye, the principal explained to my mother “boys will be boys”. Both my mother and I got the message. If I was a “real boy” there wouldn’t be an issue. I was the town freak and we all knew it.

That’s how things were. If you were different you were fair game, you were asking for it, and people in higher positions, from my principal to the prime minister, supported the status quo. Shaking the prime minister’s hand at an event for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender individuals was inconceivable. Who would have guessed that one day such a thing would occur?

When earlier this year I attended an event called the Big Gay Out, I saw our prime minister, Mr John Key, addressing us all from the stage. As I listened to his words of support and encouragement, I was deeply moved. By the end of our prime minister’s speech I had made my way to the front where he was shaking hands. Mr Key shook my extended hand and smiled.  It was a warm, friendly smile. I recalled my principal’s suspicious glances, my peers ridiculing, my family scolding and antagonising. A corner had been turned, a new era had arrived, and I, Joanne, was alive to enjoy it.

This narrative included a perspective from the following NZ Herald article:

Key addresses Big Gay Out

The Prime Minister was running late at the Big Gay Out, but when he did turn up thousands flocked to see him.

John Key spent nearly two hours meeting and greeting some of the thousands at the gay pride event at Coyle Park in Point Chevalier, which was also attended by opposition leader Phil Goff and Auckland Mayor Len Brown.

Addressing the colourful crowd, Mr Key said the Government had been true to its word in not rolling back on any gains made for the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community, including the Civil Unions Bill, introduced by Labour, which Mr Key voted against.

Mr Key told the crowd National under his leadership had a strong record of standing up for gay rights.

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To view complete article visit: http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10706002