CA for some reason you always write on timely topics which touch me deeply. My blood began to boil as I read the first several paragraphs about male privilege from a young age. In grade school and junior high, for the most part boys and girls were indistinguishable and treated pretty much the same. At that time everyone was for the most part prepubescent. I always went to parochial schools, so we did not have strong sports teams. Sports were primarily a form of exercise, not serious competition. Boys and girls comingled in virtually every activity during the day. That all changed when I went off to an elite all boys prep school.
We were confined together in a residential environment, virtually cut off from the world during the scholastic year. Teachers, whom we called masters, wielded enormous authority both in and out of the classroom. A French teacher took a particular interest in me, and I was sexually abused for over 3 1/2 years. I tried to avoid him anytime I could, but it was inevitable that I would run out of excuses or be cornered. On top of the shame that was associated with this (I absolutely hated what I was forced to do; I had no gay instincts), I was certain that most of my classmates knew what was going on. In retrospect I think some of them did, but for the most part I was probably being a little paranoid. In any case, there was no way I could bring the abuse to the attention of an authority figure. This was a different era and I probably would have been blamed for anything that was viewed as improper with drastic consequences to my educational prospects. Male privilege? You have to be kidding me. I was probably about as low as you can go in the campus hierarchy. In addition I was a bit of a loner at the time, because I felt different, but did not identify it as gender dysphoria. I was not effeminate, but my features were distinctly androgynous and my body shape ectomorphic. It was only my superlative academic skills that gave me any standing whatsoever.
As a practical matter I may as well have been a girl. I was treated as a sexual object to be used for the pleasure of an older man. My experience was no different than that of many cis gender girls. Don’t tell me that I must have enjoyed male privilege because I was not violated as a child. I was raped repeatedly. In many ways it held me back from discovering my true identity because I associated sex with abuse of the female by a dominant male. I may have been female at my core, but I did not want to subject myself to that kind of objectification, and so buried it for many years.
Rushing decades ahead, I am now a physically complete postop transgender woman. I feel authentic. Any sense of identity fraud I may once have held has disappeared. The last 10 days have been extraordinary. My bottom surgery has allowed me to proudly take my place in the sisterhood of cis gender women. I also feel empowered when it comes to men. My private parts are mine and I decide whom to share them with; it’s up to me not them. No male will dominate me or tell me I am different. No woman can tell me that I am not authentic. I refuse to put up with it. Want to take a close look? I am a woman. I have always been a woman. Now, not even my gynecologist can tell the difference.
