Ballet

By Paula Gaikowski paula.gaikowski@gmail.com

It's a common question among transgender women: when did you realize you were transgender? For some, the answer is clear from a young age. For others, it's a more gradual realization. For me, like many others, there were clues throughout my childhood that I now recognize as signs of my gender identity.

One such memory came flooding back to me recently. My wife and I were walking past a dance studio, and she jokingly suggested that I should take some classes. "I'll go get dinner," she said. "And yes, you can wear tights."

This seemingly innocuous comment triggered a wave of nostalgia. I remembered elementary school, specifically the days when girls with ballet lessons would leave school early. They'd be wearing leotards and tights underneath their skirts. And I remember feeling a pang of envy, a desire to be among them.

The dance studio was next to my dentist's office, and I would sometimes linger outside, listening to the classes. I’d watch my classmates pirouette and leap across the dance studio floor, their tutus shimmering under the stage lights. As a 10-year-old boy, I yearned to be part of their world. I’d imagine myself slipping into a tutu and tights, dancing alongside them. The night of the grand performance I’d imagine myself stepping in for someone who was sick. No one would know the truth. I’d dance the night away, a secret ballerina. Maybe then, they’d see me as I truly was. It was a forbidden dream, a fantasy that I dared not share in the 1960s.

Like many, I pushed down those feelings, only to have them resurface. It's a common experience, a testament to the enduring nature of our true selves.

Looking back, I realize that my childhood fascination with dance was more than just a passing interest. It reflected my deep-seated desire to express my femininity. The dance studio, with its graceful movements and beautiful costumes, represented a world I longed to be a part of.

As I continue my journey as a transgender woman, I find solace in knowing that I am not alone. Countless others have shared similar experiences, and their stories offer both inspiration and validation. It's a reminder that our identities are complex and multifaceted, shaped by both our personal histories and the broader cultural context in which we live.

Today, as I reflect on this childhood memory, I see it as a glimpse into the transgender woman I was always meant to be. It's a reminder that my journey began long before I had the words or the courage to articulate it. And it's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, our ability to overcome societal expectations and embrace our true selves.

Wearing Paige

Michelle out and about in an art museum