I first noticed that there was something that wasn’t quite right with some parts of me.  The way I felt, acted, and thought did not seem to match what I was being bombarded with about being “Male”.  I was brought up in the later 1940’s and early 1950’s eras when the roles of “Male” and “Female” were clearly and very distinctly defined by religions, societies, and authorities.
I was the third of five children (a sixth was still born).  My older brother eventually came out as bisexual in his young adult years.  At the age of about 8 I had an awakening experience.  My Mom was very active in Scouting for the boys and the girls.  I really was interested in the Girl Scouts that my sisters were in but had to settle for the cub scouts.  I really looked forward to receiving the large chocolate bars each of us would get at the monthly troop meetings.  They were fun meetings.  Good free movies and skits put on by the different dens and troops.  At this one particular time the Den Mother decided that our skit turn would be to have us dress up in grass skirts and do the hula.  I was mortified.  I was terrified that I would be forced to show up and be ridiculed as having gay tendencies (I was only 8 years old with irrational feelings).  This incident forced me to face a fear I had of being “different” maybe gay or whatever.  At that time I had no idea that “trans” existed.  I was not aware of any of the other words other than “gay”.  I was terrified that I would not be fit to be included in being “Male” by my parents, relatives, or peers.  I really did not want to be “different” and fought with all my might against it.  We were all very close to each other in our family; I especially with my Mom.  I deliberately went against my overriding compulsion to go after that candy bar and feign sickness in order to keep from going to that troop meeting that evening.  I had just learned of the trick of holding the thermometer against the night light next to my bed.  I really felt bad at having to fool my Mom and lose out on the large chocolate bar and movie but I was that terrified of my fears being found out.
That incident set the stage for my inner battle with myself on coming to realize that I was “different”.

Later on, throughout my elementary and high school years, I would compulsively cross dress and fantasize about being a female; even in my dreams.  I had feelings inside of me that were completely different than what I thought I should be having as a “Male”.  I now, in later life, realize how much I had been brainwashed in what gender roles were supposed to be according to the current society norms.  I really strived, for the sake of my family, to be a “normal” male and conform to what I thought that society wanted me to be.
I worked very hard at pleasing everyone that had a lot of expectations of me.  It led to a lot of very bad mistakes and decisions on my part that resulted in catastrophic consequences for me.

It took a considerable number of years for me to finally realize that I needed to confront and admit that I was a transgender person.  I had to finally succumb to who I truly was, to be the person that I was supposed to be in the beginning and be true to myself.  Stop trying to be what society wanted me to be and start being the person that I am supposed to be.
I have written a poem about leaving behind this former abysmal self.  You can read it on my blog:  http://blog.rachelbowman.com.  Search for “A Reflection” article.

In 2000 I had finally committed myself to stop trying for approval from others and start investigating just who, what, and how I was.  It took me on a long journey to 2004.  I had revealing conversations with my Mom.  I learned that she actually knew who, what and how I was even before I was born.  I came right after the still born.  My Mom experienced society from the 1920’s through the 1990’s when it was a criminal offense to be gay or any other gender non-conforming condition.  She knew that any exposure of this could and would expose the entire family to risk of violence and death.  There was no guide book.  She had no way of knowing what to do or how to do it.  It was even extremely difficult to even talk about it with my dad.  The only choice was to try and sequester any outward signs of being “different”.  Fortunately we attended a somewhat tolerant religious organization and commanded some respect from the community due to volunteer efforts and my dad’s connections through being a salesman.
It was fortunate for me that my Mom decided to help encourage me to experience and explore the different roles and worlds in which we all lived.  I was included in “dress up” play, in both the Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts (which I preferred), in joining my sisters in their play, and being included in learning to bake, cook, sew, and in girl’s finishing school lessons.  I paid close attention to the lessons I learned from my sisters.  I found myself really enjoying the “female” role.

Society was catching up, too.  While attending high school there were more efforts to enroll males in cooking classes, home economics, and other female dominated areas.  There were more efforts to interest females in non-traditional classes like some of the vocational trade classes.  In the junior college there were now females taking auto shop on the way to engineering degrees and males learning to sew.

At the time I was ready to transition and by extension “come out”, society was a little more ready to be accepting and/or tolerant.  Laws against being “different” were being changed/thrown out as unconstitutional.  Discrimination, bigotry, and prejudice were exposed more.  I wrote a letter to my sisters with my “staff” picture.  A simple one sentence was all it said, “This is to introduce Ms. Rachel Joy Bowman formally known as your brother.  I have been open and forthright with everyone on my past and my transition.  The most frequent comment I have received from relatives and peers is, “What took you so long?”  My transition took no one by surprise.  They could see it happening all along the way.  Most were either disgusted (shaking their head) or thrilled to see me so much happier and contended than they knew me as.  When I revealed my hidden self to my daughter (she was about 30), she was not surprised and was very thrilled that I had “found” my true self.  I brought here up to be with very little prejudice – a live and let live – outlook; to not judge others and let others live like they wanted to.  I was driving at the time and only had the truck tractor for transportation.  She had gone on several trips with me and knew the tractor.  One afternoon I called her and told her that there was something of vital importance that I needed to show her.  I drove over to the apartment that she was staying at.  I had on my heels, nylons, and my good “job interview” skirt and blouse suit.  I stood by the front gate waiting for her to come out.  She came out, saw the tractor and started to cross the street to it.  I said, “Hello, Valerie”.  She turned around looking and I said again, “Hi, Valerie”.  Suddenly here eyes got real wide and her lips formed an “O”.  The expression on her face was priceless to me.  I said, “How do you like my costume”?  She did not immediately recognize me I had so changed from male to female.  She originally had the impression that I was an elderly matron waiting on the sidewalk for someone.  Only when I spoke did she realize that I was her “parent”, which is how she now referrers to me.

Along the way I have experienced very little to none of the violent discrimination and bigotry that I have heard and read about against trans and gays.  The discrimination and bigotry that I am presently experiencing is from some self appointed vigilantes that are reacting to an almost 20 year old nightmare label that I was forced to inherit by my former self; a self that is no more, a self long ago and far away.  I am a completely and totally different person in all aspects.
There are some in this community who are on my side offering support and encouragement to be a better person and strive to shed the label.  There are also some in this community who want only to react to the forced nightmare label with disgust and fear.  The fear leads to hatred and the fire of hatred blinds the eyes.  They only react to the label and not the person/individual who has shown what they are, where they are, and how they are at present.  The results are abject rejection, which sabotage any efforts.

Finally, in 2004 I started looking around for some help; some resources.  There was some on the newly available internet but very limited and sparse.  I guessed that I might find somewhere to start by going to some of the gay friendly places (bars) I was starting to hear about.  I do not remember why I wound up at Only For You Boutique but in just a few visits my life was about to completely and totally change forever.  One of the owners mentioned a few places that I may be interested in and invited me to join in a meeting that was being held in the store.  The owner wound up as a very special friend.
I went to one of the bars the owner mentioned and found another transgender person.  They invited me to join in a carpool with another to travel to the L. A. area for a first appointment with an endocrinologist.  After listening to his introduction I realized that my perception of long drawn out years of complying with protocols were wrong and that I could actually get started and really DO THIS!  Right then and there I committed to transition.  I started with six subcutaneous pellets.  The recommended minimum was six and a maximum he would give was fourteen.  The pellets were a time release estrogen formula.  There were some supplemental shots and pills to take and it was our responsibility to sign up and see a personal general practitioner.  We were to return in four months instead of the customary three months.  After discovering that the six pellets made me feel really great and no undesirable side effects I went to twelve pellets every four months.

I had the most startling and unusually odd feeling about this.  At the time of this initial visit, I was unemployed, homeless, on parole, destitute, and ostracized.  In spite of this I actually had the $1,425.00 in cash that I needed to do this.  I also had two supportive friends and transportation.  I felt that something – someone really wanted me to do this.  I developed my motto:  “What Rachel needs, Rachel gets!”  It may not come when I want or get what I want, but what I NEED will be provided.  I was able to visit the endocrinologist for four and a half years.  I have been able to afford the pharmaceuticals that were prescribed.  I have been fortunate to have been able to change my name and gender through the courts for my driver’s license (which became a trucker’s license), my Social Security account, and my birth certificate.
While I was homeless and staying in a class C Toyota motorhome at a truck yard, I actually took a week to transition.  There was a period of 24 hours that I shaved all over, changed my hair, found a wig, applied make-up, changed all my clothes and went to female 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  After about four months I did not own or posses anything that fastened on the right or had legs.

I acquired work as a female almost immediately after my name change – as a driver!  My new boss was very impressed by my abilities and my attitudes.  He later complimented me and praised my ability to be the first and only driver in his history to obtain a maximum load on my very first trip.  If he suspected that I was trans (“different”) he seemed not to really care.  I then moved to farm manager on a family farm where I became friends and close to the owner couple.  I had taken over the duties of a somewhat out lesbian farm hand.  I also drove.  I had conversations with the couple about my past.  They seemed fascinated to know and learn from someone such as myself.  I retired from the farm after four years.

In 2008 a trans doctor moved here from Portland.  She is a general practitioner and now my personal physician.  She is an assistant professor at San Francisco State.  I have to travel to the Selma clinic to see her.  We have become friends and are both activists for trans issues.
A great many coincidental events have conspired to come together and support my transitioning.  I really believe that there is something that is happening to bring about my change.  I have had so many bright neon signs and moments that have definitely pointed me in a certain direction and at a certain time.  I am so unable to believe or comprehend that it is all happenstance and random chance occurrences.

Along the way I have spent a considerable amount of time in creating, developing, and instituting a greater amount of access to more resources for transgender persons, gender diverse populations, and friends/allies.
My research and investigations have led me to conclude that there are two very best Gender Reassignment Surgeons in the world.  The first and foremost is Dr. Suporn Whatanyusakul, M. D.  http://www.supornclinic.com, and secondly Dr. Sherman Lei, M. D.  http://www.thetransgendercenter.com.
I will not qualify because of age restriction for Dr. Suporn’s services.  I am attempting (at the time of writing this article) to have my GRS with Dr. Lei in Philadelphia Pennsylvania on Tuesday, May 17 (my natal birthday), 2011.  Total cost for this operation is estimated to run to $20,175.00.  I have already pre-paid (in cash) most of the cost.

As I say in my poem, I am happier now than I have ever been.  Again, it looks like “What Rachel needs, Rachel gets!  I am really hoping that I am supposed to do this!

For more information and questions/comments contact the author of this article at racheljoy6@hotmail.com.