As a child I was coddled by my grandmother. She seemed to be the only one that understood me after mother left.
I learned to sew, cook, knit, and talk about girly things. I had hair down too my waist and about 12ish grew curves to match.
Grandma understood I was 'born different', and was raising me the way I seemed to fit best.
All that abruptly ended when my father stepped in and decided to change things. Ballet went away as did piano lessons. Sports became my new world (I sucked at them). My curves were fought off with a visit to a sports doctor and testosterone treatments that lasted two years (curves still grew anyways).
I was taught that what I had was an embarrassment and needed to be hidden at all costs. I was born 'deformed' according to my father, and I would just have to find a way of hiding.
That new life prepared by father became my norm and what I lived under up until a few years ago.
Acceptance meant realising that I am still that long haired curvy little girl grandma was raising, and what my father prescribed was living a lie.
"While it is true that genetic and biological factors can play a role in shaping behavior, the environment also has a significant impact."
In my case being born without the normal male appendage was a significant aspect, the curves just compounded the 'biological factors'. The 'environment' around me as prescribed by my father only gave me a sense to 'lie to myself and those near to me'. Quite counter productive aspect of my upbringing.
I could have been like most children born with my condition and surgically 'fixed'. Raised a girl, and I might have never known. But my parents decided to leave things alone and try to mold destiny themselves.
What a tragic story Birdie. I'm sorry. I say the same thing to every trauma survivor I meet. Every infant relies on care providers to survive but sadly, many of us didn't receive what psychologists call "good enough" parenting. My former wife is a good friend to a woman whose son was born with ambiguous genitalia. I don't know all the details of what happened but I know how challenging it was for them when their first child arrived with that condition. But I know they were loving parents and Ben has grown to be a fine young man with one biological brother and one adopted sister.
I'm happy for you that you're coming to peace with who you are... a woman. Coming to terms with my past as I also come to terms with changes happening in my body is important for me as well... though I remain a man... a feminized man for sure. I'm content with that. I'm also very pleased that this side of the website provides room for these conversations. They surely belong here since the arrival of breasts is not so much a problem to solve, but a life experience to be understood. How we respond is ultimately up to us, but it would be lovely if whatever we choose to do is done with kindness and care. There is nothing wrong with accepting what nature provides for us. I'm ever mindful of a saying my former boss had typed on a card behind his desk... "You can't push a string up hill." I'm afraid we often do that. I say "Go with the flow..."
Quite remarkable that I am pushing 60 before finding out that I'm not a 'freak of nature'.
There are in fact 1 in 1500 children born with various degrees of being intersex. (Thanks Google)
There is in fact one other member here that falls under the umbrella term of intersex, and I suspect several others if more information was too be known. I'm not alone here at all.
I am of course gendered AMAB and listed in medical records as intersex, but I don't have the male appendage at all. I have labia and the crease just like all women with an enlarged clitoris (3/4") that functions sort of like a penis in my case, but not the pee hole.
Other than my small prostate and testes, I really don't have much in the way of 'male' (I can't use urinals).
School gym lockers were quite horrific. Children can be so mean. Being told I'm in the wrong locker room was a daily event. I have quite the curves as well.
Not having a family member to talk about things with after grandma was instructed to 'stay out of it' was equally as frustrating.
My father's go to answer was, "don't start the fights, but finish them".
I secretly maintained my love of sewing, cooking, knitting, and all the girly things I quite enjoyed after leaving home, but continued the charade. Dating was quite problematic, and I did very little.
I was quite lucky in finding just enough very curious and later accepting dates.
Trauma I had assumed was just part of being alive.
I can honestly say that members here on this site have been the only ones that I would divulge such information to others than very close personal friends.