Written by Ludmila Barros
The most memorable thing that happened to me was giving birth to my only child. I remember all the process before actually getting pregnant. All the trying and failing, the moment when I had to pee on the stick to find out if I was pregnant in fact. Not to mention all the nine months of pregnancy, I do remember every moment vividly, every craving I had. When I reached the seventh month, we decided the name: Jessica. We painted the room pink together, bought all nice girly stuff. All of this to found out, during the birth, that it was a boy. The sex testing went wrong. And there I found my husband and I shocked and desperate for a new name. Jason it is.
Growing up, he was an extremely quiet and lovely boy. He came to be my best friend at a point of my life. I spent so much time with him, and he was, more than anything else, a companion, an adorable companion. The first time I dropped him at preschool, he was afraid and I, heartbroken. However, I just told him ‘It will be ok, everything will be ok, I will be here when it is over, I promise.’ then he just hugged me and walked to the building. I was incredibly proud of him. By the age of seven, I used to drive him everywhere. From school to the language classes, karate lessons and everything. He was growing an interest for a bicycle, but he was still too small, and to be honest, I could not let him go, not yet.
A bit later, a couple of years older, he started a new fashion tendency while chilling at home. He used to wear some big shirts, long shirts, and eventually nothing on the bottom. Just like a dress. This thing went over an year. And when he was reaching thirteen years old, I believe just one month before his birthday, his father yelled at him, he got near humiliation.
My dear husband, Paul, was a minister at our church at that time. Actually we got to know each other there, when we were teenagers. His father was the previous minister, and the legacy ended up on him. Although, he was satisfied to fulfil his destiny. We dated, got engaged and married all by the book. We did every single thing to please our parents and that small religious congregation. And by the time Jason was thirteen, during the event I just mentioned, Paul was at the highest point of his faith and the church work.
During the afternoon of that day, one of his friends from church dropped by our house and caught Jason wearing that huge T-shirt and said ‘Oh Lord, Jason, you look like a girl in a dress!’. Paul was undoubtedly embarrassed and when his friend left, he just kept yelling at Jason that he was ‘a noble man and his son could not never look like a girl in a dress’. He got mad. He didn’t beat him, Paul was never this kind of person and father. And he also knew I would never allow it.
I thought about trying to calm him down, saying that that way of dressing was harmless, inoffensive. However, I was not sure anymore.
From that day to the end of his Junior year in high school everything was peaceful. He was a regular and ordinary boy. He went to his friends’ parties, had some girlfriends, got in the basketball team and most importantly, he was going to church on a regular basis. Despite his ‘normal’ life, something happened. One day I came home from work earlier and I caught him wearing one of my missing bras.
He didn’t see me, but a bit later I tried to start a casual, relaxed conversation with him.
‘I know you are a teenager now, but we never talk anymore, I miss my little boy.’
‘Came on, mom. Cut it off! I am here, what do you wanna talk about?’
It was surprisingly easy to have those long conversations I used to have with the younger Jason. We talked a bit about everything of his life. I got an update of every part of his high school crazy life. However, after a long time there, I could not reach the point I wanted. So I decided to go straight to the point.
‘Isn’t there anything you wanna tell me? Something you had never told anybody, like never ever?’
‘What are you talking about, mom? What else do you wanna know about me? I told you everything already!’, his laugh brought me so much joy at that moment.
‘Son, I knew you were special since the day you were born. I’ve told you a hundred times the history of how we were told you were a girl and on the birth all that mess happened and everything you already know. I have some thoughts in my mind. But I just need YOU to tell me, let me know. I really need to know how you’re feeling inside. I wanna help, honestly. Do you trust me?’, he did not reply, he was confused. ‘Jason, I saw you earlier today.’, he changed his face expression, some kind of deep sadness I had never seen in his face before. ‘I saw you wearing my bra.’
He started crying so hard that I could not hold myself. He began saying some stuff here and there after some time and I stayed there, just holding him in my arms. ‘I don’t know what is happening.’, but that first response broke my heart. If I closed my eyes now I would hear him saying that, over and over again, while whimpering. After he calmed down, he opened up to me. He was having a hard time trying to hide this feeling inside by the years. He told me that that strange thing inside him was there even before the ‘T-shirt-or-dress’ incident.
Yet, he did not know what was happening. He could not recognize surely what was that.
‘You are gay. That is it, isn’t it?’, I tried.
‘It is not that, I mean, not only that. I also have this upsetting feeling when I look myself in the mirror. I don’t see myself there. I hate this body I have.’
After that, we spent the whole afternoon talking about a new word he had found on the internet, and how he may have identified himself as a transgender woman now. The first time I heard that from his mouth it sounded like a swear-word. He stayed there trying to make some sense of what that meant, and also trying to convince himself of that. I could see in his eyes that he was not sure about it either. We stopped talking when his father arrived. We both went upstairs and got into our bedrooms. I entered the shower. I really would like to say, from the bottom of my heart, that I was a brave mother, that I stuck with my son’s inner conflicts since the very first moment he told me all those things, that I promised myself to support him no matter what. But I just entered there and had my tears blend with the pouring water.
We did not talk about that issue again in months. We just continued living our lives normally. I regret it. I feel like I wasted my precious time with him. However, during this time, I made some research myself and I got scared. Not for me, but for my husband. I knew he would have a hard time accepting it, or even understanding it. Being a man of the church had narrowed his mind, he was more open-minded and easy-going when we were young, but now I am not that sure anymore. So that wasted time took almost half a year, his senior year. And he was getting crazy about going to College. He was sending applications to every well-known University in the country. He was aiming high, he used to do that a lot. We saved money for his tuition, so we encouraged him to try for the best. However, some other thing happened just some months before his high school graduation.
I was preparing dinner when I heard him arriving with his girlfriend. This new one was such a sweet girl, the first time she visited us was just by the end of their junior year. Just after the bra incident. Her name was Melissa, she just shouted a ‘Hello, Mrs. Bennett’ and they ran straight to his bedroom, I was not able to see them. I finished cooking and went there to call them. I knocked on the door and entered, just to find her putting makeup on his face. I asked what was going on. They stutted trying to find an answer, when he gave up and turned his face to me. I felt the tears coming when I saw his face covered in a huge bruise, his cheek and eye was a mix of black and blue.
She told me the story. They were acting in a play for the Drama Club, and they exchanged genders, she dressed like him, and he dressed like her. And at the end of the day, when they were leaving the school, a group of boys decided to catch Jason unadvised to beat him up. The taller one just punched him in the face. Jason felt and she tried to help staying in the middle of the fight. It worked and they just left. But the damage was already made.
‘Just because you dressed like a girl?’, that was the only thing I could say.
