He Wasn't Even A Boy! - Part 21

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Today, both sides will present evidence and testimony on this point: whether or not the defendant should be permitted to compete in New York State public high school athletics as a girl.

At the conclusion, I will render my ruling." I would have been concerned about Judge Burrell's obvious exasperation with Mr. Martin, but as my attorney pointed out to me earlier, we were still ahead of the game, for the judge would know that his decision would be scrutinized across the land. That meant he would have to follow the letter of the law, which was an advantage for us.

Up first were the scientists. True to his word, in the name of efficiency, Judge Burrell limited each side to one expert witness.

I was delighted to see Mr. Martin call Dr. Christine Turley, the physician who had helped me at Girl School. Through his questioning, she gave very explicit depictions of what my body had undergone at the hands of GB, including the complete growth of the female reproductive system and my corresponding loss of size and strength.

"So Stephanie can function as a biological female, then?"

"Yes. She is capable of becoming pregnant and delivering a baby to term. Our examinations also showed that she can lactate and then nurse her potential child." Shudder.

"And she will menstruate?" "Correct. In fact, she's probably menstruating right now."

Every eye in the courtroom turned to me as my face flamed red in embarrassment. My thoughts flew to the tampon nestled inside my vagina. Jesus, must the whole world know I'm having my period? And when will I have to change the damn thing?

"We'll confirm that when she takes the stand."

Of course, he already knew, probably from my mother. One rule followed by all good litigators is never to ask the witness a question to which you don't already know the answer.

He continued. "In the meantime, Dr. Turley, is there anything about Stephanie's physiology that differs from what would be expected of an 18-year-old woman?" "None. In terms of hormones, muscle mass, and density, her body is well within the parameters of a normal girl."

Mr. Martin then walked Dr. Turley through a series of blind studies where doctors and scientists had examined GB and 'normal' girls without knowing who was who. The studies had universally concluded that no difference could be detected. The GB girls were indistinguishable from the original article.

During the cross-examination, the Oxton attorney got very personal.

"You examined Jack after his change, correct?"

"Yes, I performed HER's first gynecological screening," Dr. Turley replied, emphasizing the pronoun. "That included an evaluation of his genitalia, which was superficially female?"

"Objection, your honor," Mr. Martin spoke.

"As per Jorgen v. State of New York, all those affected by GB are considered legally female upon the final formations of their physiology. From that point forward, both New York and Federal law recognized the victim as a girl.

As such, I respectfully ask the court to instruct opposing counsel to refer to Miss Lind with the appropriate feminine pronouns and by her legal name." "Objection sustained. Counsel will comply."

"Very well. Did you note anything unusual about... her... new genitalia?" The Oxton attorney placed a mocking pause before she said 'her'.

"No. As I testified earlier, Stephanie was well within normal female parameters." "But your own records document the size of her clitoris at 31.0 millimeters, do they not?"

"Yes, she would reach that size when aroused about 1.2 inches."

"Tell me, Dr Turley, what is the average size of a mature human female's clitoris?"

"The average is approximately 25.0 millimeters, about 1 inch when tumescent."

"And is not the clitoris considered the physiological equivalent of the penis?"

"There is some commonality, but they also differ greatly in function.

It is a mistake to consider the clitoris as a woman's penis. One might as well consider the penis as a man's clitoris."

"Nevertheless, Doctor, since GB manufactured Stephanie's clitoris from the remnant of her male penis, then does not her abnormal size indicate she retains some element of masculinity that the average female does not?" At this point, I felt a storm of horrified emotion.

Good God, just a few weeks ago, I'd been a normal boy. Now, I was in the body of a girl sitting in a courtroom, participating in a hearing that was being televised across the country, and everyone was debating the size of my clitoris.

The absurdity... the impossibility of this moment was overwhelming. I'm just an average guy! How the hell did I end up here?!

I wasn't sure if I even wanted to have a clitoris in the first place, and now there's going to be an official court transcript forever preserving the discussion of the damn thing! I couldn't help it; a single tear of shame and dismay rolled down my cheek. Without intending to, I locked eyes with the judge.

Now we all know that the justice system is supposed to be impartial and objective, but I could see Judge Burrell's brief expression of sympathy.

I knew I looked like a sweet young girl, dressed ever in an ever so feminine style. And I knew from my own boyhood that most men feel an instinctive, primal obligation to protect women from pain. So I knew, fair or unfair, we'd made a connection.

Dr Turley responded frostily. "As any expert on human anatomy knows, there's a wide range of what is considered normal. Stephanie's clitoris is somewhat larger than average, but by no means abnormal.

I could also say the same of her breasts." Everyone's eyes flew to my chest. Blush city once again. Sigh. Dr Turley concluded, "And certainly it affords her no physiological advantage over other girls."

The Oxton attorney tried to press the point. "But can you say with scientific certainty that is the case?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" The judge broke in at this point. "Asked and answered, counselor move on."

That ended the cross for Dr. Turley. Mr. Martin then spent a delightful 30 minutes shredding the expert from the Oxton side. For every study or claim the witness attempted to cite, Mr. Martin brought up a counterpart. Not even on the contrived scripts of 'Law and Order' had I seen such a neat, precise dissection. My, he was good.

Up next were the coaches to provide perspective on my athletic ability. Coach Bradford ran down my running history, recounting how I'd become 20% slower since I'd been turned into a girl.

He traced the history of the men's and women's mile and showed how my 4:49 as a female was perfectly proportional to my 3:59 mile as a boy, i.e., I was among the elite for my gender(s), but not unprecedented.

Coach Jenkins, the Oxton coach, speculated that if I could run a 4:49 mile after one week as a girl, maybe I had some hidden masculine advantage. But Mr. Martin recalled Coach Bradford back and traced my intense training regimen, pointing out I was already in excellent condition before GB, after all, I'd run that 3:59 mile just a week before.

I noticed throughout the testimony that Mr. Martin kept referring to me as 'Miss' Lind, as opposed to the Oxton side, which kept using 'Ms.' It made sense. 'Miss' was somehow softer, more girly.

Which, of course, was the whole reason the women's movement had embraced 'Ms.' Yet 'Miss' was very useful in building the image of my femininity. And then it was my turn. Nervously, I approached the witness stand, my stockings brushing softly, my silk dress whispering as I walked. I didn't have to testify, but it was obvious it would help my case.

I sat carefully, raised my hand, and took the oath in my clear, soprano voice. Mr. Martin went first.

"Stephanie, are you a girl?"

"Yes," I replied, we were replaying our conversation from our first meeting.

"What makes you feel that way, besides the obvious physical reality?"

"At first... I felt like an actor, playing a part. I was just a boy hanging out in a girl's body. But then..."

"Then?" he prompted.

"I started to... change. Inside. Each day I felt... different, not connected to who I was as Jack. The way I looked at things, the way I interacted with my friends and family, the way I felt about being female."

"What has changed?"

"It reached all... all the way to my soul. It's hard to articulate, but I'm a new person now. I've come to see femininity as more than just wearing dresses and having long hair. It's a separate way of life, a way of... of being.

I like the very... idea... of girlhood and I like knowing that I'm going to be a... woman. Somehow, I've become a different human being than before. Not better, not worse... but... different."

I spoke softly, occasionally reaching back to brush my tresses from my face. "But if you're so different, why compete as an athlete? Wouldn't it be easier to just walk away from this and avoid all the publicity and hassle?"

"No," I said firmly. "I may be physically weaker as a girl, but that doesn't have to mean weak as a person. If someone were an artist, or a mathematician, or a carpenter, or a dancer as a boy, would turning into a girl mean that she should give it all up?

I feel most... alive when I'm running... It's like I'm plugged into this... amplifier, a volume control on my life that gets turned up whenever I'm on the track.

Running is part of who I am, boy or girl, I couldn't bear to... lose it."

My vision grew misty, and I brushed tears from my eyes. I was not playing to an audience by now; you can probably tell this came from the heart. Oxton took their turn.

"What makes you think you have the right to steal someone else's dreams?" she asked, gesturing at Melody. No faux sympathy, now she was going for the jugular. "If a dream is to be realized, it has to be earned, not given. And I've as much right to my dream as she does to hers."

"Yes. Earned. But how can you, ostensibly a boy, consider beating a girl in a race as earning your dream?"

"Because now I'm a girl, too." "So you say. But are you really? When you first... transformed, what was your reaction?" "Confusion... fear... curiosity."

"Why curiosity?"

"Everyone wonders from time to time what being the opposite sex would feel like. The genders are so... so... different."

"And yet you believe you've bridged that gap in just a few weeks?"

"My body didn't give me much choice. It's kind of like teaching someone to swim by throwing them into the deep end of the pool. I'd rather have had time to get acclimated, but..."

"But..." she prompted. I knew what was going on here. She was on a fishing expedition to see if I still considered myself a guy in some way, or at least regretted my new life.

"But I've learned to deal with it. The mind is part of the body. Being female just... overwhelmed me."

"Come now. Are we to believe that all those years of being a boy could be swept aside simply by growing a pair of breasts?"

"It's so much more than that. Every cell of my body was affected. My voice, my face... After a few days, I couldn't even see myself as a guy anymore. And once that happened, I started to change... mentally... and... emotionally."

"You had a girlfriend before. Were you still attracted to her after you changed?" I paused for a moment.

I wanted to deny it. The Oxton attorney may have been grasping at straws, but I didn't want to give her the slightest opening. But Mr. Martin had been adamant on the need for honesty.

He'd pointed out that competent attorneys are meticulous in their research; the worst thing that could happen was for me to appear dissembling on the stand. I had no idea how she could have found out about my attempt to romance Sue that first night home, but I wasn't taking any chances.

"I repeat, were you still attracted to your girlfriend after you changed?"

"Yes... for a while."

She moved for the kill. "Then if you could retain a boy's sexual desire, why not other elements of your masculinity, either mental or physical?"

"Objection, your honor." Mr. Martin spoke up. "Sexual orientation is not a function of gender, even for an athlete. Or is opposing counsel next going to speak all the alleged lesbians in the world of women's golf?"

"My question is valid, your honor. Sexual orientation is a function of physical brain chemistry at the very least. If this person still thinks like the boy he/she was, then the... completeness of the transition cannot be assumed."

"Objection overruled. Witness will answer the question."

"I repeat, you still retain a boy's sexual desire, correct?"

"Not anymore. Respectfully, ma'am, I already told you the more time I spent as a girl, the more everything changed. I... I have a boyfriend now."

"Ah, yes. But isn't that just for show?

You don't really have such feelings for a boy, do you?" And that's where she made her fatal mistake. I started thinking about Hal. About his handsome features, his lean athletic form, his well-muscled legs. Frolicking in the pool.

Our first kiss. That moment on the telephone when we openly acknowledged our sexual connection.

And most of all, our friendship has stretched back over the years. At that moment, in front of an audience of millions (or at least thousands, this wasn't the Truman Show).

I knew the truth. I'd fallen in love with him. Becky and Sue explained to me later what they saw watching me on Court TV.

"It was wonderful," Sue laughed. "As soon as you started talking about him, you got this moon-struck, calf-eyed, dreamy, goofy, girly-girl look on your face. It was hilarious and sweet and most of all... real!" Becky added, "There was no way you could have faked that. And everybody knew it."

I hardly even remember the rest of my testimony. I think at that point, Oxton's legal team realized it was over.

Their only hope was innuendo, speculation about my still being a boy in some way, and that strategy had just been blown out of the water. The remainder of the hearing was anticlimactic.

Even Mr. Martin relaxed a bit during closing arguments, citing only 5 of the 20 precedents he'd researched. He was, however, careful to refute in advance the few cases Oxton might have used. Their attorneys made a game effort, but they had little to work with. Mr. Martin had been spot on; both the facts and the law were on our side.

We rose as Judge Burrell retired to chambers. In a normal proceeding, it might be months before we have a decision. But the urgency of resolving this matter before the Nationals meant a quick timetable. Though it was unlikely that another injunction could prevent me from competing there, getting a positive conclusion to this one was an excellent ace in the hole.

We broke for lunch, dodging the media after all, it was out of their hands now. Not to sound too callous, but their usefulness to us had come to an end. In the restroom, I fretted over a run in my hose. Fortunately, it was above the hem of my dress.

And let me tell you, (for those of you who aren't ladies) it's no joyride to pee as a girl while wearing a slip AND a dress and AND stockings AND panties. Just getting all my underwear up/down as needed was exhausting! Giggle. I was surprised when my attorney's cell phone rang and we were recalled back to the courtroom.

With my heart beating fast, I rose as the judge took the bench. Fortunately, since this was a civil matter, I didn't have to stand as he rendered his ruling. Even so, I was very nervous, trembling a bit.

One thing about dresses is that they aren't very warm, especially when the AC is cranked up. As I waited, I irrelevantly wondered if the chill I felt would make my nipples visible through my bra. Jesus, the things girls have to worry about!

He spoke. "As a matter of law, I find the defendant's feminine nature has been satisfactorily proven by any reasonable measure. The petitioner has failed to provide sufficient evidence to override the conclusions of both the scientific and legal communities.

I hereby declare the defendant to be of the female sex, completely and without reservation. Accordingly, she is eligible to participate in any activity, event, association, or facility exclusive to women or girls.

I lift my injunction and consider the matter closed." And with that, it was over. There were a number of cheers from the gallery as I wrapped my arms around Mr. Martin, giving him a huge hug. With tears in my eyes, I did the same for Coach Bradford, Dr. Turley, and my mom.

God, I was so lucky to have their support! If Melody McCarthy and her coach had sour expressions before, they now looked like they'd just swallowed an entire lemon orchard. "Guess you fooled them with that WonderBra of yours," Melody hissed at me as I walked out.

"Save it for the track, sister," I smiled sweetly in response. I was feeling too elated to get irritated with her. We'd have our final battle soon enough. In a conference room, my attorney and I wrapped up a few loose ends. "Will they appeal?" my mother asked.

"Very unlikely," Mr. Martin replied. "To put it colloquially, they were hammered today. The chances of success are quite remote, and the Oxton school district doesn't have infinite funds. Attorneys aren't cheap, you know," He smiled. I thanked him again and kissed his cheek. He may have been the most unflappable man I ever met, but I thought I saw him blush just a little. Snicker. Mom and I said goodbye.

We passed through the media throng, where I gave the usual platitudes about how "I was glad justice was done" and "I just want a fair chance to compete."

That was how I felt, of course, but it still seemed as if I were going through a ritual with all the journalists. Kind of like in the baseball movie 'Bull Durham', where Kevin Costner teaches Tim Robbins all the appropriate clichés. There was an amusing exchange with one reporter, though.

"Stephanie, now that the law has said you're a girl, how are you going to celebrate?" "I'm going to get some Ben & Jerry's and a new pair of stockings! Disney World will have to wait!" I got a few laughs with that. It was a fun drive home, Mom and I recounting the events of the day. Although it was still early afternoon, I was too drained to return to school.

Back at the old farmhouse, we packed a picnic basket and headed for our 'special place'. About a half-mile from home was a little brook running down the side of a hill, through an open meadow filled with Queen Anne's Lace. There was a lovely grouping of trees and a terrific view across the small valley.

It was a perfectly pastoral setting, just walking by it made one feel at peace. My mom and I used to come here regularly, before the storms of adolescence had distanced us. After chatting our way through a pleasant lunch, we fell into a relaxed silence, listening to the birds. Suddenly, Mom stood up and began getting undressed. "What are you doing?"

"Just a quick dip to cool off.

Why not join me?" "But we don't have our suits!" "Um... are you forgetting we're both female?" she asked as she pulled off her jeans. For a moment, I actually had. Seeing one's mother nude while one is a boy is very creepy. But now? Who cares? I smiled as we stripped to our panties.

I noted with some delight that Mom's breasts were quite lovely in wonderful shape for a woman her age. If there was a genetic component to GB, her appearance boded well for my future. We swam around the brook for a while. It was cool but not too cold. We got into a splashing water fight, laughing and shrieking together. It was very nice. Afterwards, we wrapped ourselves up in the picnic blanket and just stared at the clouds.

There was something very familiar about this moment, almost like déjà vu. It took me a while to remember, then I put it together. Years ago, I'd been flipping through the pages of one of my Mom's magazines.

I'd come across an advertisement for underwear. There had been a picture of a mother and daughter, each dressed only in very pretty panties, long hair artfully arranged to cover their chests. They were kneeling together in a forest, admiring a butterfly.

There'd been something about that advertisement that fascinated me as a young boy. At first, it was the titillating image of two lovely females wearing nothing but cute underpants. But I came to realize my interest was more than that. There was a sense, a mood about that idyllic scene as if the woman and the girl were sharing something special with each other and with their surroundings.

Something that I, as a boy, could never understand. I remember feeling almost jealous of them, of whatever... magic they had, and I didn't.

But now... I finally Got It. Sitting here with my mother, each of us likewise only in panties, the sunlight dappling across our bare skin through the trees, the brook gently babbling beside us, the birds singing sweetly, I realized I was no longer merely an observer of that magic... I'd become a participant.

At that moment, I felt an incredible sense of communion with the trees, the birds, the sky, the sun, with nature herself. I felt a part of nature's creation, all life shouting its gladness around me. And best of all, I realized that I, too, could create that in my body; I could bring forth a new life into the world, just as my mother had done for me.

I felt my spirit soar, a celebration of the femininity of nature and of my own unexpected but glorious new femininity along with it. I'd become a part of the affirming cycle of the cosmos. I could actually sense the presence of Gaia, if not corporeal, then at least in my heart.

And I gazed at my Mom, my sweet mother, who'd given so much of herself for me, I felt a connection with her that transcended any emotion we'd had before. Our shared sex had become like a sacred bond; our mutual womanhood bound us together in the magic of the dance of life.

I started to cry. I wrapped my arms around her and wept with joy. For the love I felt for her, the love she had for me. For the sheer delight of being a girl, and of sharing in the mysteries of creation.

For the wonder that I, too, like my mother, could bear a child. For the happiness that I was finally at peace with my transformation, that I wouldn't ever, EVER give up this feeling!