RANSVESTIA

Late in the afternoon, I saw mother sink in her favorite chair, acting like she had a headache. And then she began to cry. One of my weaknesses is that I can never see a female cry. It makes me all jelly inside. I kneeled at her knees, asking what's the matter.

"You know what's the matter. I was so proud of you and now you treat me this way."

"But mother, I'm the one who has to go to school and face the other kids. What will they say? What will they do?"

"You're not going to the same school, remember?" she replied. It was true. I had forgotten. Due to desegregation school bussing, I had been assigned to another high school. "At a different school there will be other young people who don't even know you." She made a big show of crying again. "You know we don't have the money to buy other clothes. You did not mind all summer. Why are you now trying to break my heart?"

Breaking her heart my eye. Why hadn't she spent the money on boys clothes. What about my heart and self-respect? My personality? I asked her why she did not buy male clothes for me.

"You looked so pretty and so natural as my daughter... and we all took it for granted that you realized you were all girl now. You are much too pretty to be a mere boy. And you make such a fine daugh- ter... just like your Aunt Schipka when she was young."

I continued to argue vehemently, refusing to give in.

Mother gave out with another torrent of tears. But this time I steeled myself. I just could not even imagine going to a school as a girl and meeting all kinds of young folks my age. Me... a simpering girl?

Then mother changed her tactics. She became angry and when I for the umpteenth time explained my reasons, she suddenly shouted: "Now Christine, you shut your mouth. I won't have it. I've taken enough of your lips. What would all the nice neighbors think when they see you in boys' clothes? Do you want them to think you're one of those strange crazy girls?"

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