From Humiliation to Humanity
The Unshackling of Myself
Every day I carried it with me — the weight of the garment concealed from the outside world, the weight of gym class day, when the risk was all too great. I took great risks wearing women’s underwear in situations when I could be discovered. I knew that if even just one bit of lace was seen under my clothing, death would seem a more pleasant fate. I so desperately wanted to be myself, whoever that really was, that I was willing to risk deadly humiliation in middle school and high school, and later, on the job. Have you ever felt the horror of embarrassment; absolute mortification, where you have a tingle through your body and you can’t even take in a breath? If you haven’t, you are lucky. If you have, you know what I’m talking about and can appreciate the gravity of the feeling. As a kid who was a crossdresser, I felt this horrible feeling several times when I was almost discovered.
I have a childhood memory of an episode of the Phil Donahue Show. It was about transgender women who had girlfriends. What resonated with me was the idea that even though you were born male, you could become female, and you could still love women. I remember little from my early years, but that one TV episode stands out in my memory, stark against the blur of childhood. That, and getting caught trying to wear my mom’s high heels. I had already been sneakily wearing women’s clothing every chance I could. At 14, when I had a job and some money, I was able to secretly go to the post office, get a money order, and send a catalog order to Victoria’s Secret to get some of my own things. I really felt differently when I was able to wear what I wanted- I felt I was being myself.
I lived in a pretty rural, Catholic, conservative farming region of the Hudson Valley. Because I lived far away from school, my bus ride to school was around 45 minutes, one of the first kids picked up, and the last to be dropped off. There weren’t many kids around my age, so I found ways of entertaining myself; ample time for pretending, and precious alone time to explore my identity.
Because of the rural nature of my area, I had few role models for my true self. We didn’t have diversity in our school. My graduating high school class was 125 students. I could count the kids of color on one hand. I didn’t really know anyone who was LGBTQ, nor did I even know what that meant. I knew that people who were suspected of being gay were made fun of. So if anyone was weird, or different, they didn’t have a lot of allies; they were generally bullied. I just tried to blend in and fit in. Being a scrawny, goofy, smart kid with braces and glasses, I was already a target of ridicule. You can imagine a bit better how much of a risk I took underdressing — the practice of discretely wearing women’s undergarments under regular clothes.
I didn’t really think about what I was doing in terms of a reason, or a motivation, but society was constantly reminding me that I was doing something wrong. It was something that was perceived by so many people as a joke: just look at the sitcoms and the movies like the Ace Ventura franchise. I knew I didn’t want to stop, but it was ingrained in me from outside sources that it wasn’t right: weird, not normal, an abomination. But it was how I felt… and I couldn’t let anyone know about it.
***
I kept this secret from everyone including my family for years, until I was discovered by my parents as a teenager. That moment, when they had found out what I was doing, was a moment that injected adrenaline into my veins like a brush with death. As good as I had been at hiding my secret, it was only a matter of time until I slipped up, left a trail of evidence which would lead to the truth being known. After the flood of shame rushed over me like a high pressure water cannon, and the embarrassment misted heavily over, I was finally able to speak. They were very reasonable and calm. They didn’t yell at me, they didn’t add more shame to my overwhelming sense of it.
My parents suggested that we go see a therapist, to which I agreed, but in my mind, I had already decided that I had to purge all of my items, and stop doing what I was doing. After I cried myself to sleep, I snuck outside the next morning and burned most of the items in a hole. I say most; I kept a few favorite things that I couldn’t part with. As I watched the fabric blacken, melt, and turn to ash, I thought that this would free me from my shackles of shame, but instead I was conflicted, as if I was burning precious photos and memories. The therapist said it was just a phase and that I’d grow out of it, but I still had the longing to be feminine and express myself in my private space, which I did, but now in even more secrecy. I was determined to not be discovered again, and I wasn’t until I revealed myself to my parents many years later. My own experience trying to avert my own behavior was a self-imposed conversion therapy which never works..
I tried to purge being my real self — but it was short lived. I was back to secretly being myself, regretting getting rid of so many things. And because I wasn’t able to be myself outside my room at home, there were many opportunities that I missed, because it was hard to leave my room where I could be myself. I would have liked to do many things, but couldn’t, because I was caught between being myself and the risk of being shamed. Relationships were difficult, because I would eventually have to reveal myself, resulting in their disgust, an end to the relationship, and their possession of my secret. Would they tell others? I was offered an enlistment in the Navy to work on nuclear power, yet looking back on this, I think my biggest apprehension was neither the commitment nor the idea of being in the military, but rather the challenge of being in a place where I wouldn’t have any opportunity to be myself.
I tried things that were considered dangerous: mountain biking, rock climbing, skydiving. I believe that in my subconscious, the danger was acceptable because if something went wrong and I died doing something fun, it would be okay, because I didn’t really like myself as I was. It wasn’t a suicidal tendency, but just an acceptance of higher risk. I would later learn that a lot of trans people get into careers that are dangerous for what I suspect are similar reasons. I think that the acceptance of the risk and adrenaline rush was a replacement for the feeling I had when risking myself to be myself; a feeling absent in playing the role of cis-male*.
***
To save money, I lived at home when I went to college. It wasn’t until then that I met a very open minded, short-haired, androgynous hippy girl, Cat, who I was comfortable enough to tell my secret to. She opened my eyes to many new progressive things, and she was perfectly fine with me being myself. But it was still difficult for me to not want to spend a portion of my free time in my room where I could be completely authentic. Despite her positive influence, I couldn’t shake the idea that I couldn’t be myself for fear of being rejected by my family & society at large. I knew that people like me were viewed as “jokes”: I’d been part of conversations with people I called my friends, and had to laugh at the insults and jokes to maintain the ruse. How could I be sure that I wouldn’t be abandoned by my friends and family when I am the punchline of their jokes?
I always wanted to be a better person, to try harder, go farther, and experience all that life has to offer. Yet I didn’t really know what that was, or how to get there. One thing I was sure of, was that I wanted to do something that resulted in the betterment of life for others. My original idea, post-9/11, was to become an FBI Special Agent. Though at that time I wasn’t yet qualified, I knew that with some hard work, and being a model citizen, I could feel like I was making a difference in the world. I was willing to accept the risks, and I felt that I could safeguard my secret and still somehow be in service to others. When I applied, I was rated “highly competitive” due to my accomplishments, degrees, awards, and experiences. But in the end, the process was halted by technicalities. I ended up not starting the academy before I turned 37.
***
The hardest thing I ever had to do was convince myself that it was okay to be me and that being transgender was okay. People actually tried to convince me I wasn’t trans, and they had me believing it. It took a lot of introspection and therapy to fully come to grips with the fact that I was not facing reality; that I was lying to myself because of the cultural brainwashing to which I was subjected my whole life. I often wonder how my life would have turned out if I had been able to be myself at an earlier age. Would I have been able to accomplish more? Would I have been one of the high profile trans activists helping the world? Would I be here today running for state office in Colorado? I could spend days contemplating the what-ifs, the shoulda-done-this-and-thats, but here I am today, the person forged by all those experiences.
Through all these reflections, I realized the importance of having LGBTQ+ resources for kids today. Things are considerably better for LGBTQ+ youth now than when I was growing up, but it’s still not good enough. I’m really happy to see more kids being able to live their authentic lives the way they want, with the loosening of the social norms that strangle the opportunity for so many to be themselves. But there’s a long way to go in terms of what must yet be done to ensure these kids have better, fully accepted lives.
I don’t feel like a trailblazer or pioneer, but regardless, people started to look to me as a leader for my courage that, for me, was necessary for survival. Once I realized that merely living my authentic life had such positive impacts for others, I felt that if I pushed myself beyond my limits of courage to run for office, I could generate a massive force for positive change to ripple through the fabric of our polarized society and government. I’ve always wanted to be someone who would leave a positive legacy, but for a long time, I never thought that just being my true self was a path to doing so, or I would have listened to myself years ago.
So, I am playing one part in moving forward the discussion about our true selves, and the freedom we need to be ourselves. As bad as things can seem, I know deeply and personally that we can help change our families, our communities, and the world for the better. There is unharnessed power inside us just waiting to be released by living our authentic life.
- **
Author Note: Brianna Titone was elected as Representative in Colorado House District 27. Learn more about her at BriannaForColorado.com
*Cis: denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex.
