My Sister Janet

by Ellen (13-M-6 FPE)

My name is Janet.

It was John, or, as I was known a few years ago, Johnny. The transition from Johnny to Janet took place in a few months, but once it began there was no stopping it. I was happy as Johnny, that is I was happy with my male self, but not with what Johnny was. I grew up in a slum area of Chicago and needless to say I was in and out of trouble like clock- work and was well on my way to becoming a hoodlum. Maybe I was one already. One bit of trouble led to another until it was climaxed on the night I was picked up by the police with two friends riding in a stolen саг. I didn't know it was stolen, but the judge, after looking over my record, decided I was as guilty as the others and I was sent to the boys' corrective farm for six months. When I came home, my father made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me and my mother pleaded with me to get a decent job, and be someone like my older brother Bill, who was a sales representative for some Eastern companies. I really tried to straighten up and I looked for a job, but before I could get one, a candy store in the neighborhood was robbed and the elderly owner badly beaten. The des- cription of the thief fitted me rather well and since the old man lapsed into a coma on the way to the hos- pital from which he didn't recover for three months, he was not available to make an identification.

My first knowledge of the event came when I luck- ily ran into my friend Fats, a few blocks from my home. He told me the police were looking for me and were at my home waiting for me. I decided to hide until my innocence could be proved. I didn't want to go back to the farm, or worse, to jail for something I didn't do. But where to run? I had no money and very few friends. Actually I was right in running, for several months later the real thief was caught and he confessed. I made my way through alleys to another part of town and called my brother Bill. When I swore I was innocent and pleaded for help he told me to go

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