So What Was the Early Signs That I Am a Girl?

It's hard to tell. I don't have any recollection of any dramatic moment. But when I was very young I had a strange dream that I still remember. I was maybe four or five and in the dream I was at a place I know quite well, near the subway. Under a bridge there was a lot of snakes, each on its own blanket. They all raised their heads and hissed at me. I wasn't afraid at all, I just waved something like a toreador does and walked right past them to the shop I wanted to go to.

Not a very complicated or scary dream, the strange thing is that I still can remember it after all those years. What does it mean? Well obviously the snakes are penises, it can't be a repressed memory of abuse as I wasn't afraid at all and the snakes didn't attack me. Was my subconscious trying to tell me that I wasn't supposed to have a "snake"? During the years since I've been thinking about this dream but so far haven't come to any conclusions. Any suggestions?

Other signs?

I remember when I was seven or eight my brother and  was playing something, don't remember what. But one part was that I was on the bed covered with all sorts of bedclothes and other stuff. In the game it was a garbage truck and I was covered with garbage. My brother removed the garbage and found a woman. Pretty obvious this one isn't it?

From an early age up to and beyond puberty I sometimes dressed secretly in my mothers dresses, stuffing the bra with stockings and the like. I also sometimes tried on her make up. Again quite obvious.

In our apartment building in Göteborg we were not so many kids so it was only natural that girls and boys played together. One evening when I was maybe thirteen we were all hanging around when one of the girls that I had a crush on said that she thought that I should be fine as a girl, She said my lips were as made for lipstick. A "normal" thirteen year old boy would be horrified but I was flattered and excited.

More signs?

All the kids collected "filmisar", small cards with pictures of movie stars, and as expected the boys all wanted John Wayne, Tarzan or Allan Ladd. Which suited me fine. When we traded cards I could get five Sophia Loren for one John Wayne.

I always liked to read my mothers women's magazines and "girly" comic books

When we went to the hang around the mini golf court the other boys watched the games, I, even at eight years old, watched the older girls and their marvellous bodies.

I always enjoyed playing with the girls more than being one of the boys.

So when I put all this together it's pretty obvious that I was one of the girls from the very beginning. I'm just so damn good at suppressing things.

Love and kisses till next time
Caisa

It began before i was born

As per usual mum's egg met dad's sperm. I was just one little embryo cell that immediately started dividing over and over. So far nothing was out of the ordinary but at some point a shower of hormones messed things up. I was supposed to be born a girl but somehow the multiplying cells made my body into a boy. And on the evening of January 19 1949 I left the safety of my mother's womb.

Both my parents, Dagmar and Svante, come from a working class background with roots in the north of Sweden. Almost every one of my relatives were socialists - social democrats and communists. And most were/are also relatively open minded and tolerant. That has played a big part in making me what I am.

I don't remember much of my first years, who does? And what I do remember is probably just what I've been told happened.

In September of 1950 my baby brother, Anders, was born. Being so close in age we also were quite close and had the same play mates. When he was about a year and a half he got paratyphoid, well he wasn't really sick but he was contagious and had to be isolated for nine months. He was the only one with that particular kind of paratyphoid so was only allowed contact with the staff at the hospital. Needless to say he became the darling of the nurses. I have no memory of this but have been told that that summer I had an imaginary pet. I used to put my hands together like for scooping up water, holding them up to my face and talking to some one/thing I called "min lilla kvittring". I just realized that it could translate into "my little tweetring". I have never had an imaginary friend after that summer so I guess that shows how much I missed my brother.

Now might be the right time to mention something that is typical of the Nordic countries. We were fairly late in developing industrialism and big city living. Most of our ancestors were farmers or worked as "drängar" or "pigor" - worked for more prosperous farmers. Some worked in the forests as lumberjacks (No not the Monty Python kind. ) or making charcoal out of timber. The point is that most of them had their own house in the country side. And as the families moved to the cities to find work they often kept the old places, or built small cottages somewher close. Hence "hytte" in Norway and "sommarstuga" in Sweden.

My maternal grandparents built such a "sommarstuga" that they shared with their children, my mother and her two brothers and their families. It is rather small and at that time had no water, no electricity and to go to the toilet you went to a temporary outhouse. this temporary building stood for almost twenty years. It consisted of three Masonite walls and a half door. When I grew older I often used a small birch tree to keep the door open so I could sit and look out over lake Graningesjön.

It was many a happy summer we spent there in Löfsta and I will surely return there many times in this blog. The picture at the top of this episode is me in a straw hat in an old, half rotten row boat that we found. I wanted to be alone for a while and rowed out on the lake with some old magazines and a corn cob pipe.

Next time: More about my early childhood.

Why?

I'm starting this blog for several reasons. It all began with a series of DMs on twitter with Kate Bornstein. She was kind enogh to ask "What've *u* been doing for the past 60 years, what led up to you being such a lady?" When I replied that it would take a book to tell all Kate replied "So, write the book. No-brainer." Not being sure if I'm capable of writing a whole book I decided to blog instead. And as I don't want these autobiographical musings to break the flow of my blogging at genderswitch I started this new blog.

And, yes I know, the title of the blog isn't very imginative to say the least. I was toying around with things like "My Life As A Cat" and similar ideas. If you have a better sugestion please tell me.

This will not be a "tell all" thingie. Some things I've forgotten and some are to personal or embarrasing. And not to much "juicy" stuff either. I'll reserve that for a more X-rated blog. If you want the URL just mail me at caisap@gmail.com .

That's all for now. Next: From the very beginning