Apparently he thought dianne had got it right that

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Unformatted text preview: ing on the train into clothes I didn’t want to wear, trying to wash off the makeup, trying to arrange my hair in a less feminine fashion. It always felt like going back to prison. At about age seventeen, I had finished high school and spent more time in Toronto, where I met a young man [Jerry] who was quite smitten with me. He was from a well-to-do family of business owners, and we started moving with a different crowd, the young “up-and-comers.” Instead of clubs, it was dinner parties, long dresses, and cocktails. For a country girl, this was really heady stuff! I was really beginning to develop as a person, as a young woman. I was no longer shy but outgoing, funny, and mischievous. Looking at pictures from that time, I also realize I was very pretty. I didn’t discourage Jerry’s attention, so the relationship continued for some time. At one particular party, when the other couples had begun disappearing into private rooms, Jerry and I found an empty room and lay on the bed talking and necking. I had always set strict limits on what I would tolerate for intimacy—obviously—and Jerry had always accepted that. But after some heavy petting and encountering my limits again, he asked me to marry him. I said no, that I wasn’t ready to settle down. He said we didn’t have to marry right away but that he wanted me to say yes. I wouldn’t, and Jerry kept pressing for a reason until finally I told him that I couldn’t marry him and why. 94 Between XX and XY He listened to what I had to say and said he still wanted to marry me! I explained that I was underage and that my mother wouldn’t allow any medical treatment and would undoubtedly have him thrown in jail if anything happened between us. I told him that I had heard of a doctor overseas (Morocco) who would perform surgery but the cost was astronomical. He said that he would pay all the expenses if I would only marry him. I reminded him that I was a minor. He said that didn’t matter—we’d move to another country. DAMN! Here was a chance to escape my deformity, but I would have to sell my soul to take advantage of it! I declined again. But Dianne did accept Jerry’s offer to pay for a trip to New York City to meet with a doctor Jerry had heard of who seemed to know something about people like Dianne. In 1967 she met with this physician, the first who didn’t think she was nuts. He did a complete physical exam and ordered several blood tests. Apparently he thought Dianne had got it right, that she was a girl, because he wrote a prescription for estrogen. But Dianne couldn’t get that prescription filled in Canada, and she couldn’t imagine that any Canadian doctor would duplicate the prescription for her, nor did she want to risk trying to smuggle the estrogen across the border. So, while she felt the doctor’s verdict had vindicated her, at least partly, she was still without her hormones, and her relationship with Jerry was beginning to close in on her. “I liked Jerry a lot,” she said, “and the lifestyle he offered was so very tempting. But I was not in love with him, and I was enjoying being a vivacious and independent young woman for the first time, free of shackles and limitations. But Jerry was very much in love with me, and it pained me to be a tease or a temptation. So I eventually slipped away home.” Because Dianne’s birth certificate said she was a boy, she was accepted into technical school as a boy. But when she arrived, everyone assumed that she was a girl pretending to be a boy in order to get into technical school. She could no longer put up any convincing front as a Where Our Sexes Come From 95 boy, so the assumptions of others fit perfectly with where she was in her life. But another U-turn lay just around the next bend. I was in the second year of a three-year program when I met one of the boys from my hometown in the hall. He asked if I was going to my former boyfriend’s wedding. My face must have fallen a mile, and the tears started to well up. . . . I was totally gutted. Any illusions I had about the future [with this boyfriend] had been dashed, and I simply gave up. I dropped out of school, packed my bags, and went home to my parents’ house, back to the prison. And there Dianne began a downward spiral. She took a job in a nearby town and tried to bury her frustration, her fears, and herself in her work. But none of it helped. And then, one by one, Dianne lost most of her Toronto friends to suicide, or drugs, or prostitution, or all three. Again she sought medical help. The gynecologists she saw this time told her they could find nothing to explain her condition, though they did confirm that she had unusually low levels of both testosterone and estrogen. She did, they told her, seem remarkably well adjusted for a person in her situation, and they would support her in any decision she made. But there was no one she knew of who could truly offer her any real help with her own particular set of issues. The spiral continued. At twenty-three, Dianne told her gynecolog...
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This document was uploaded on 02/04/2014.

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