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Mom, I know this must be one huge thing to swallow. Someone, I don’t know who, always told me, it would have been much easier to continue to let your parents think you were a lesbian. But after so much time, I realized no matter how strained our relationship is, you are still my mother, and you still deserve to be part of my life. Leading you onto believing I was just an extremely butch lesbian was wrong to me, and although you may feel that I should have kept my mouth shut, I don’t think I could live with out giving you the chance to at least be a part of my life.

I don’t know if you can or even will accept this. But I guess I already accepted that possibility when I first told you. But if it isn’t too much to ask for Mom, I want to make it clear. Paula your daughter doesn’t exist anymore, and to me, she never existed. I don’t know if you’ll accept it, or if you won’t. In fact, you may deny it for a long time. I guess I’ve accepted that possibility too. But I’m only asking you to try Mom, because I don’t want to let the gap between us widen.

My name is James Curtis. Carmen said the day I can tell some one my name is the day I have finally grown up and taken control of life in the front seat. Until then, I was simply going to be pushed around by the world. My name is James Curtis, Mom. I am growing up to be a man. Maybe not yet, maybe I’ll be your little boy for many years to come, and probably in your eyes, I’ll be your little boy forever. But Mom, please start trying to call me by name. I cannot describe how much it hurts to be called Paula these days. It seems like a painful slap in the face and the reminder of my situation. I never chose to be like this Mom, but I was cursed with this blessing, blessed with this curse to be a man trapped. Maybe I’ll be freed someday from this female prison, or maybe I’ll be stuck here forever, but I don't want our relationship to end without you knowing the truth, it’s just too important.

Mom, I know it’s going to be hard, habit is hard to break, but please Mom, try your hardest to start referring to me as “he” and “him” and calling me by James. Encourage Erica and Dad to do it too. Dad called me his little boy some time in November last year, and I can tell you, I never felt so good about myself when I heard that. I’ll understand if you slip up once in a while Mom, but please, at least try to understand.

Love,

Your son,

James Curtis

Submitted by Laike (9/16/2004)

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