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The Real Me - Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2022-05-30 14:22:00 +0000 UTCAs they walked to the school gate, Lisa said, ‘Well, you promised to tell.’ ‘I can’t say yet.’ ‘You promised.’ ‘I’ll keep my promise on Friday.’ ‘I know what it is anyway.’ Lisa said sniffily. ‘Do you? What?’ Jenny asked. ‘You’re going to private school, got a scholarship.’ ‘What me? Dunce of the class? Get serious. Be patient. I’ll tell you and Jenny, Friday.’ Daniella walked home from school. Her sister’s car was in the drive. She used her key to let herself in and shouted, ‘Rache?’ ‘I’m up here, sorting things.
Come up and get changed, we only have half an hour.’ Daniella goes into her room and finds clothes laid out for her, a dress, underwear, and a cardigan. ‘Change and be quick, I need to do makeup.’ Rachel said. ‘Really! I’m going as a girl?’
‘Yes of course.’ Daniella was both thrilled and frightened, terrified, picturing everyone pointing and laughing when she ventured out of the house for the first time in her girl clothes. She took off all her boy things and dressed in the clothes Rachel had provided. She was actually going out in public in a dress, a blueprint with white and red flowers, a crossover bodice, with a belt. It reached halfway down her thighs. It felt terribly daring, frighteningly daring, and yet she knew, this was the length she saw girls her age wearing. It was so thrilling. Rachel entered the bedroom. ‘Here, tights put them on. You need to shave your legs tonight.
Here look, I’ll show you.’ She showed Daniella the two ways of rolling up the legs of the tights so she can put her toes in the foot portion. She watched Daniella manage the tights. She placed a pair of wedge mock rope sandals with diamante straps for her to wear. Rachel knelt and tightened and fastened the buckles. Rachel made up Daniella’s face, eyebrows, liner, and mascara, and lastly a pink lip gloss. Dannie thought she was dreaming. She was also terrified.
‘You have to experiment, over the weekend, do your own, then perhaps just a tiny amount for school, color those eyebrows and lashes, or perhaps, we can get a salon to do them on Saturday.’ ‘What, a ladies’ salon? They’ll laugh at me.’ ‘Why would they know there’s a boy under that skirt. You look like a girl, move like a girl, and talk like a girl.
Believe me, they will only see a girl. Right in the car and off we go to see Doctor Symonds. You will have to speak up for yourself, he’ll want answers from you, not me.’ They were just on time for the appointment but sat for another twenty-five minutes. At last, while Daniella was studying 17 Magazine, her name was called. Self-consciously, because the name called was ‘Daniel Artherton’, they made their way into the darkened passageway to the consulting rooms.
Pushing Daniella ahead of her, Rachel opened the door with Symonds name upon it and they entered. Doctor Symonds, they discovered was a lady in her forties. She looked puzzled. ‘I’m expecting another patient, have you come to the right room?’ ‘Yes, Doctor, Daniel Artherton but who wants to be known as Daniella.’ Rachel said. ‘I see. One more in the avalanche of trans children. Well sit, and you can’t be a mother?’
‘No Doctor, I’m his older sister. I’m twenty-four and he’s just fourteen. We’ve been expecting him to come out for a long time, and now he has.’ ‘You say we? That is, you and who else?’ ‘Oh, our mum, only she can’t be here today. She has written a letter. Here.’ The doctor read the letter. ‘Right. So, tell me about yourself, Daniella.’ Daniella drew a deep breath and then to his sister’s surprise, competently and confidently told about his feelings and belief that he should have been a girl.
‘Your sister says, she and your mother, have expected you to come out for some time. What made you delay?’ ‘My Dad, he’s so anti and he expects me to do all boy things which I can’t and don’t want to.’ ‘Well, girls do ‘boy things’ as you call them these days. They play football, cricket, and even rugby, climb mountains, sailboats, and fly airplanes.
When they do all those things that were traditionally male pastimes, they are not boys, are they? The boy now does lots of girl things, from knitting to nursing. What do you like to do?’ ‘I quite like tennis and I like to paint and draw and write.’ ‘Why isn’t school attendance good Danielle.’ ‘Daniella. I get bullied a lot and sometimes I forget my homework because I’m, well mixed up, wishing and dreaming and I can’t concentrate.’
‘When you truant, what do you do?’ Daniella blushed. ‘I go in the Mall and see what I can pick up, like a lipstick or a bottle of perfume, once,’ he falters, ‘some panties. Then I go home and dress up and pretend I’m a girl.’ ‘Always girl things you steal?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Then you go home and dress up. How does that make you feel?’ ‘It’s my pretend World and I like that I’m dressed as a girl but it’s not real, because I know all the time, that I have to come out of that world and back into the real one.’
‘So, what is the attraction of your dress-up?’ ‘I just want to do what other girls do. They dress up, experiment with makeup, and feel pretty. That’s what I do.’ ‘Is it a sexual thing?’ Daniella blushed. ‘No, I hate that down there. I don’t even like touching it. The boys all think it’s the best toy they can have, but it’s not for me. It’s horrible.’ ‘Are you unhappy being a boy, all the time?’
‘All the time.’ ‘So, would you say you are dysmorphic as well as dysphoric?’ ‘Yes, both.’ ‘You know what both those terms mean?’ Symonds asked. ‘Yes, dysmorphic means I hate my body. Dysphoria means I’m not comfortable with my natal gender.’ ‘That you know the terms mean something in itself. If you had asked Mum or your sister, would they have bought girl clothes for you?’ ‘Yes, I guess. I was frightened to say I wasn’t a boy.
I’m ashamed now that I stole those things, but at the time, I had to have them. They made me feel more girl. Just by carrying lipstick, the punches from the boys and the names and things didn’t hurt so much. I felt like a martyr, not a misfit, a mad person, a deviant.
When I bunked off, I could go home and playgirl, dress up in my sister’s stuff when the house was empty, ‘specially when Dad was away.’ ‘And what does Dad say about being a girl?’ ‘He doesn’t know. He’s away.’ Rachel said. ‘Mum and I have waited for Daniella to come out to us. I think perhaps fear of dad has delayed that.’ ‘Is that so?’ Symonds asked. Daniella nodded. Suddenly, tears were not far away. ‘He works away most of the time.
He’s not well-read or well, modern in his thinking,’ Rachel said. ‘Oh.’ Symonds looks thoughtful. ‘I hate him.’ Daniella said. ‘Oh, that’s a strong word, Daniella.’ Doctor replied. ‘They don’t get on,’ Rachel interjected. ‘He hits me,’ Daniella said. ‘He beats you?’ ‘Not so much a beating, more a thump, a punch, a clip round the head. Sometimes my head spins.’ ‘We can’t have that. I shall have to report this to the Children’s Department.’ The doctor informed them. ‘He drinks,’ Rachel said. ‘Dad’s head isn’t in a good place but he never hit me.’
‘He hits Mum, lots.’ Daniella said, venomously, her voice ending in a hiss. ‘Is that so?’ Doctor asks turning to Rachel. ‘Yes, yes, it is, I’m afraid to say.’ ‘Is he drunk when he makes these attacks?’ ‘When he hits Mum, yes, well usually. Dannie, well she is like a red rag, just not the son Dad pictured accompanying him to football or standing next to at the pub bar.’ ‘I see. I’m getting a disturbing picture of a dysfunctional family, where violence is a common occurrence.
A family becomes complicated by having a trans-girl with gender dysphoria and dysmorphia. No wonder she is underperforming at school. Now I have a knowledge of the background, what are you expecting from me today?’ ‘I’d like estrogen but I know you won’t give me that. I want spiro, so I don’t go through male puberty. I’m fourteen and I wake every morning expecting to have a deep voice and a beard. I can’t do that, I really can’t.’ Her voice had become higher in her desperation. ‘I can do that for you. Spironolactone is a drug with a variety of uses.
It’s not dangerous nor permanent. It keeps maledom away as long as one takes it. Let’s get that out of the way.’ She used her computer, peering at the screen. ‘There, perhaps Rachel, you would go to the dispensary and pick the prescription up for Miss Daniella Artherton and bring it straight back. In the meantime, I will call a nurse, and Daniella, I’m afraid I have to look at your down below. I hope that’s not too distressing but, it has to be done?’ Rachel departed, and a nurse entered. ‘On the couch please Daniella, and panties down. Tell me when you’re ready!’ She suffered the indignity of an inspection of what caused her the most distress.
Of course, if she was allowed to go through male puberty, there would be more matters of equal distress, facial hair to be expensively eradicated, hair in other more private areas, a voice that was no longer light and feminine, large hands and coarsened features. Doctor Symonds from treating one such trans-female, knew of all these terrors, most of which, can never be totally overcome. She was, therefore, sympathetic and realized the urgency needed for intervention.
‘You know about spironolactone. There may or may not be side effects. At least with a testosterone blocker, of which spironolactone is but one option, we can prevent manhood. Making you more female will come later. Get dressed, Daniella.’ Doctor said. The nurse, there as a chaperone, departed. ‘Well, you are definitely biologically a boy, which of course you know. I have prescribed pills of spironolactone and taking these pills is really the only effective method of delivering the medicine into your body. It’s a hormone blocker, blocking testosterone, and is therefore naturally feminizing. It should at this dose, prevent you from becoming a man.
Read the notes that come with the pills and if you have any unwanted effects, you come back to me. There are alternatives. When you are sixteen, I can prescribe female hormones. I will put you down for the gender clinic, but I have to say, the waiting time for that is well over two years.’ She used the computer and Danny sat quietly, patiently. The door opened and Rachel entered. ‘Well, that’s bad news,’ the Doctor says, ‘I see the approximate waiting time to see a gender specialist is now three years.
I realize how important this is. Therefore, I will monitor your progress myself. I want you to make appointments to see me, every six weeks to start with and if you have problems, well come back anytime. I wish you well.’ ‘Thank you, doctor. You’ve been great,’ ‘Then we’re done?’ Rachel asked. ‘Take her home and look after her. Good luck to you both.’ As Rachel drove home, she asked her little sister, ‘How did that go, do you think?’ ‘Fine. She has done what she can. At least I have blockers, which is such a relief. I feel an enormous weight has been removed, the dread of becoming more and more masculine, more like Dad.’ ‘You would never be like Dad.
He’s naturally angry, you are sweet-natured and such a girl.’ ‘Is that really what you see?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Thanks, Rache. You’re everything I would love to be.’ Rachel said nothing. She was so flattered, near to tears. ‘So how was it, your first outing as a girl, in a dress.’ ‘Oh Rache, it was awesome, really brill. It was so frightening and so different, remembering to keep my knees together and sit properly. I loved it, love the dress, Rache, thanks.’ She was glad Dannie was happy after her doctor’s appointment but she knew a long hard road lay ahead, especially schooling and particularly, the relationship with their father.
Frank Artherton had been brought up in a hard school, E 17, now an Asian ghetto of East London, but which had once been an area aspired to by Jewish immigrants and refugees from Eastern Europe. In a street that was now ninety percent Asian, their father had sought the safety of a ‘white gang’. Frank’s outlook was that Asians, Jews, poofs, and the rest, were the enemy. That he had produced a ‘sissy boy’ with his sperm, was like a thorn in his heel.
It was painful, shameful. Knowing his attitude, Rachel dreaded telling her Father, as they must for in a few days, he would be home again. There were, stormy seas ahead and she feared for her little sibling. They walked to the front door hand in hand. Dannie even does a little skip, annoying to Rachel as it pulled on her arm, but another sign of his girlishness. She smiled when she got over her auto reaction of annoyance. His, her transition was she knew, entirely right. He certainly was a girl in a boy’s body, poor little mite. ‘Have you homework to do, Daniella?’ ‘Yes. History and general science.’
‘Then go up and do it and I shall have a look at it to make sure it’s done. You can stay in those clothes, Daniella. For the rest of this week, when you come from school, dress in your girl clothes and do homework and play with your makeup. You need to get used to wearing different clothing and you have to practice with makeup, too. As a girl, you have a lot of catching up to do.’ ‘OK, Sis. Thanks, you’ve been great. I so dreaded coming out, you’ve been terrific. I feel like a new person.’ ‘Come here.’ She pulled Daniella in for a kiss, then she smacked her rear and sent her upstairs.
Danny suffered two more days as a boy at school. They are the same as always, the petty bullying continued and yet, he was happier. He could now pay attention. He hadn’t bunked off since the day he was discovered. He was happy because now every day, he was a girl as soon as he reached home. He walked to the school gate with Jenny on Friday afternoon. ‘I have something to tell you.’ He said, heart, pounding in his chest, but his hands were like ice.
‘I know what you’re going to say; you love me.’ Jenny said, laughing and bumping into him. ‘No this is serious. Yes, I like you a lot, you know I do.’ ‘You’re going to say you’re gay? I thought so.’ Lisa chimed in, having joined them. ‘No, I’m not a gay boy.’ ‘Really? We all thought you were. What then?’ ‘I’ve seen a doctor about being trans.’ They continue to frown and then light gradually dawned on Jenny and then Lisa.
‘You mean, you’re turning into a girl, becoming one of us? Like in that thing on TV the other night? Gender something.’ ‘Genderquake?’ Jenny said, realizing she has said it too loudly. ‘Oops, sorry. Like that?’ ‘Yes. That’s it.’ ‘What, because you watched that program?’ Lisa asked. ‘No of course not. I always knew I wasn’t a boy, not in here.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘I’m not anyway, am I? That’s why you call me Daniella, that’s why the boys beat me up because they can see I’m not like them, yet not a girl. In here I’m a girl.’ Daniella touched her head again.
‘So, what happens? Do you have an operation? When?’ ‘No. Listen. Monday, I’ll be a girl.’ She looks puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I’m a girl in a boy body, but Monday, I’ll be in a girl’s uniform. Officially Daniella.’ ‘Oh my God. Really? I can’t wait to see you, I mean I’m sure you’ll look nice. Have you been using makeup?’ Lisa asked. ‘I’ve been practicing yes. How did you know?’ ‘You hadn’t cleaned it all off from your eyes.
I thought it was a gay thing. I’d love to see you.’ ‘Tomorrow, my Sis, Rachel, is taking me shopping for uniform and lots of girl stuff.’ ‘Just like that? You go shopping and then come to school as a girl? Those stupid thugs will have a heyday. They’ll slaughter you.’ ‘I hope not, but I think so too. The headmaster has promised protection, but they never stop bullying, do they?
The idiots just wait till you step out the gate and get you on the way home or use social media. Last night, I closed all my accounts, not that I had many real friends.’ ‘You can always have an alias. Just sign up under another name.’ Jenny advised her. ‘I think I will, ‘cause I like to go on the transgender sites.’ ‘Well, there you are. I’d like to shop with you.’ Jenny said.
‘What tomorrow?’ ‘Yes, I’d really like to help.’ ‘OK, I mean I have to ask Sis, but I’ll phone you, yeah? I’d like a third opinion, as long as you’re honest?’ ‘I will be critical, I can see you need that.’ ‘Moi Aussi.’ Lisa joined in, using her French because her parents take her abroad for the summer and winter holidays. ‘See you tomorrow, then, I hope.’ Daniella said. ‘Oh, by the way, it’s Daniella.’ ‘Your name? Of course, we two christened you, didn’t we?
Sounds so romantic. Kiss, girl kiss, cheek to cheek.’ They parted, taking their different paths home. Dannie took the passageway, a footpath that runs between the rear gardens of two streets of upmarket houses. It’s more peaceful than the roadway but a place where teenagers hang out, smoke, and drink illegally.
They leave their detritus of modern living as evidence, beer cans, spliff butts, cigarette packets, used condoms, and even syringes. At this hour, directly after school hours, it is usually free of such delinquents. Dannie turned the bend and was confronted by Lee and Andrews, smoking what she recognized as pot, tea, hash, reefers, and marijuana. The smoke wafted her way and she recognized the sickly cloying scent, as almost every child over the age of twelve can. ‘Well, well, look who we have here,’ Andrews said maliciously, ‘our own little girlie boy.
Have you come through here for a quick smoke or a wank, you little perve?’ ‘I’m on my way home.’ He attempted to pass by. The potheads moved to block his path. ‘Not until you show us your knickers you little perve.’ ‘You’re a couple of scumbags.’ Dannie screamed although he was lip-quiveringly afraid. On this occasion, and perhaps because their lungs were full of the drug, Dannie is almost too quick and too nimble.
He dodged by, feining one way and dashing through on the other side. A hand caught on his bag’s strap, suspended from his shoulder and he was jerked suddenly back, so violently that he sat on the ground, his head flung back with the force of the fall. He could see their leering faces above, silhouetted against the sky. ‘Leave me alone,’ he shrieked, trying to scramble to his feet. He was conscious that he sounded like a girl. They stood over him, and he thought, this time I’ve had it, there’s no escape. He wondered whether it would just be a rain of punches or something worse.
He shrieked again. That animal-like vocal anguish, almost the sound a domestic cat makes when under surprise attack, this time made them hesitate, while at the same time, a gate from the rear of one of the upmarket houses opened, revealing an elderly man with a German Shepherd on a leash. ‘What’s going on here?’ The man said with an authoritarian voice. ‘You boys, leave her alone and get off out of here before I call the police.’ Andrews smirked, and Lee tried to look innocent. ‘Just having a bit of fun with her.’ He said, innocently.
He bent and helped Dannie up and pretended to brush him down, roughly stroking across his backside with a heavy hand. Faking concern, Lee also brushed her down. ‘Are you OK, sweetheart?’ he said. ‘We weren’t doing nothing, mister. She’s our little cousin,’ Andrews said to the man. ‘Yeah, that’s right. See yer Monday, cousin.’ Lee said, menacingly with a smile.
‘I hope not.’ Dannie gasped. ‘Thank you,’ he said to the old gentleman. ‘They’re not my cousins, just a couple of bullies smoking pot.’ ‘Right, as I thought. I’ve seen you two down here before, leaving your beer cans and other trash. Get off out of here and don’t let me see you back.’ Lee and Andrews were already ambling away in the opposite direction to Dannie’s intended path. ‘Are you all right?’ his rescuer asked Dannie. ‘
Yes sir, thank you.’ ‘I don’t know. In my day, boys would never do that to a girl. Perhaps it’s all these girls in trousers, unisex business. We were taught to respect women but then females were female, not trying to be men.’ ‘Thank you, sir, they are just a couple of pot-head bullies. I have to run, now. Thank you.’ He took to his heels and ran the rest of the passageway until he came to his street. Five minutes later, he was up in his room. He stripped off the male uniform, shirt, tie, blazer, trousers and socks, and pants, and threw them in a corner.
She took out her few girl clothes, Rachel’s hand me downs, and dressed. She did her face as commanded by Rachel, just enough to enhance what’s there, just enough to show she’s a girl, a little foundation on an already perfect skin that has the glow of youth. Eyebrows are essential because hers are so fine and blond as to be almost non-existent. Mascara too, on her blond lashes, and what she liked most, eyeliner. She combed her hair, trying different ways, thinking about what style she would like, given the limitations that exist of length and cut. She resolved she would grow it as long as possible, right down her back, if she could.
Lastly, she painted her nails, with a pink called, ‘you’ve got data on me’. Stupid name, she thought, but nice color but even the name made her smile. Doing these girlie things, made her smile too, right from inside herself. She opened her books and did her homework. She knew that her sister’s advice, to work hard and go to Uni, was wise, that she will have to work harder than others, and that she will need to prove her ability to obtain the same advancement offered to cis people. Rachel, speaking to her last night, impressed upon her how disadvantaged she was. ‘Life will be as hard for you as for any black kid from a ghetto.’ It was a sobering thought but not one that could deter Daniella. She had to do this, whatever the cost.
