KEVIN WHITT
“My “gender identity” varied depending on the day. On some days I identified as “trans,” on others as a woman, and very occasionally, I identified as a man”
I grew up in a dysfunctional home with a very abusive father. Born with a rare heart defect, I was a sickly child, and I was also very sensitive. As a result, my dad rejected me at an early age. He hated that I wasn’t drawn to the same activities as most boys, so he abused me in an attempt to “teach me to be a man.” The abuse was verbal, physical, and even sexual. “Men masturbate every day,” he instructed me. In the first grade, everyone called me “gay” and “faggot” because I seemed more effeminate than other boys. My classmates would say, “Why do you walk like a girl? Why do you talk like a girl?” Words are powerful, and I believed the lie that I was inherently different from others. I had trouble fitting in. The bullying continued my entire life, from name-calling and gay bashing to all-out fights. At times it seemed like the entire school was against me. These early experiences taught me that men were evil. Women were, in fact, the only ones who had treated me like a real human, with love. So naturally, I rejected all things masculine.
Over the next years, I began having same-sex attraction at a young age, and at 15, I “came out” and started occasionally dressing in drag. Eventually, I adopted the persona of a woman full-time. Since I felt terribly inadequate at being a man, I decided I would be the most beautiful woman I could be. Perhaps if I reached “feminine perfection,” I would finally feel normal.
I was embraced and accepted into a community of people with whom I could relate, and the attention and recognition of dressing in drag became addictive. In the ‘90s we didn’t have the various pronouns that many prefer today, so I was limited as to how I could describe myself. But given the option, I would have identified more along the lines of non-binary because my “gender identity” varied depending on the day. On some days I identified as “trans,” on others as a woman, and very occasionally, I identified as a man. I basically lived in a state of confusion over my sex my entire life.
When I was about 18, I went to therapy for the first time, where I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder connected to trauma I experienced as a child. Then, a few years later, I pursued counseling with a gender therapist who directed me to begin identifying as a woman. At that point, I had laser hair removal and took cross-sex hormones until I began experiencing the precursors of a stroke. About the same time, I got into the club scene as an entertainer. Desperate for money, I started working in the adult industry as a transsexual prostitute, phone sex operator, dominatrix, and webcam "model." I thought this would be temporary, but earning over $1,000 a day became addictive, and I couldn’t stop. Men made me feel sexy and desirable. (It’s important to note that many trans-identifying people go into sex work because they often feel people are just going to use them for sex anyway. So why not charge for it? Often disowned by their families, many have a low self-worth.)
For a while I was happy living as a woman. Because sex stereotypes were so ingrained in my mind, I didn’t know it was possible for me to live life as a sensitive man. The idea that God had created me to be more sensitive and creative had never crossed my mind, so I lived my life as if I had been born in the wrong body. Eventually, however, I got tired of being a sexual fetish for men. What’s more, I couldn't understand why none of those with whom I was romantically involved would commit to me. They would tell me all the right things, but I ultimately felt used. Over time I realized how toxic and addictive my lifestyle had become. Many friends and acquaintances had died young from HIV, suicide, and drug overdoses. Others were ruining their lives with drug and alcohol addictions.
One day, while working in a gay male strip club, one of the stripper boys invited me to go to church. I thought it was weird, but I was open to it, and I went. Honestly, I hated Christians because all I felt I’d ever been taught by the church was that “gay people were going to hell,” and their punishment from God was to contract AIDS and die. So, I figured, if I’m going to hell, I might as well have fun doing it. But the day I attended church with my friend, a seed was planted in my heart. A few months later, I got invited to church on Easter Sunday. God grabbed my attention through a modern-day version of the resurrection of Christ being played out on stage, and I began to cry. I saw all that Jesus had done for me. That was the first day of my journey away from transgender identity.
Within months, my desire to do drag, party, or have sex lessened. At 35 years old, I began to hear God speaking quietly to my heart about avoiding temptation. After much prayer and a desire to obey Him, I knew I needed to get rid of all of my women’s clothing and accessories. My heart began to change dramatically as God continued to show me my true identity. I did not come to Christ seeking changes to my gender- or sexual identity. Simply desiring a healthy life, I kept an open mind and a loving heart. He did the rest. Fortunately, my consumption of hormones was so short-lived that the impact on my body was minimal. Though I still have some chest sensitivity, today, my body is whole. My mental health is also much improved, although I do still have some mental health issues from the trauma and abuse I endured throughout my life.
I now understand that my sensitivity and interests in art, fashion, and beauty do not mean that I am the wrong sex or homosexual. I wish I had been offered therapy to get to the roots of why I had those feelings of gender dysphoria. Sadly, American culture places a stigma on men. Common messaging today is that if we don’t watch football and act a certain way, we must be gay or in the wrong body. But that is a lie. I am created in God’s image, and He gave me a creative mind. Today, I love being the man I was designed to be. I am able to be myself without hiding behind a costume to feel worthy. I no longer need to pretend to be something I’m not. It's very freeing to love who God created me to be. I have different desires now, different interests and hobbies. I finally realized there is more to life than clubs, makeup and dresses, sex, men, and alcohol. God changed everything about me, and I recognize my great value and worth.
My hope is to continue fighting for children, so they don't have to go through what I went through in the quest for identity. Ultimately, I’d like to get married one day and have children.
Culture Warriors of America: cwofa.com