Marie's Story

I cannot believe that I am going to do this, but I feel that I need to.

When I was four years old, I had an odd protrusion in my groin. My parents told me that I had a hernia and would need surgery. I remember my father's face as he sat across the table from me. The lighting was dim, but I could see that he was so upset and frustrated. Two years later, I had a hernia on the other side of my groin and had surgery again.

The year of my second hernia, my mother took me to a neighboring town to see a doctor about my "hernias." I was so excited to go on vacation with my mom. I remember being in a small room, with the doctor and two or three med students. The doctor was smiling and being overly nice. I stood naked in front of them at the age of six, as they stared at me and the doctor felt me. The doctor was recording everything that was being said, including my unknowing, cheerful replies to all of his invading questions. Thinking about this now, I shudder with disgust.

When I turned twelve, my mother and I had a talk on my bed. She explained to me that I had inherited a family disorder, and that I would not grow breasts without the help of medicine. I would have to see a doctor. I remember crying my eyes out and throwing a fit. I was so angry and confused. Later, I asked my father and mother if I would start my period. My mother told me no. My father then told me that it was actually better, because my mom and sister suffered terrible cramps and sometimes could not get out of bed.

I went to an endocrinologist at age twelve and he examined my vagina, telling me that I would be able to have sex. He prescribed estrogen pills, and I went back every summer to get refills. My mom was telling me that I had not developed ovaries, that they were "deformed, and were not really anything at all." She told me that they had been removed during my second hernia operation. I remember that in the car, on the way home from seeing the doctor, I got so incredibly angry, yelling at my mother and telling her that I hated her. I was the only one in our family to have this problem.

I grew up living a perfectly normal life. I grew breasts, and I lied to my friends, never telling them the truth about not having a period. I hated not having any pubic hair, and was always heartbroken at seeing other girls' in the locker room. I was extremely sad about being infertile and pictured the day when I would tell my future husband about it over and over again in my mind. Little did I know that I had a lot more to tell him than that.

At eighteen years, I was reading an article in Mademoiselle magazine, entitled "Am I a man or a woman?" At first, I was in tears, sad for this poor thing. And then I got scared: it sounded like me. Oh my god. My heart raced and I started to sweat. I raced up the stairs, and almost tripped over the dog on the way up to my parents' bedroom. I woke my mother and dragged her downstairs. I recounted the article and asked her frantically if I had what that girl had. She looked incredibly frightened and told me no. She looked me in the eye and promised me that she had told me everything. At this point, my father came downstairs and was informed of what was going on. He was, first of all, angry with me for waking up my mother in the night with foolishness. I begged and pleaded with them: was I like this girl? Did I have Y chromosomes? My father looked like he was in deep thought, and finally he said, "No, you are not like that girl, but you do have Y chromosomes." That is the precise moment that my world came crashing down around me. I covered my face with my hands and said "Oh God, I just want to die." I thought I would throw up. The next month was unbearable. I looked in our medical dictionary and realized that I had "testicular feminization syndrome" and I thought I was a hermaphrodite. I looked at women on tv and started crying because they were normal. I looked in the bible, trying to find some passage damning freaks like me to hell, because I was sure there was one. I watched a girl in class bring in the magazine article and make fun of that "freak" and saw the other kids twist their faces in horror as she described it. All the time, my face burned red and I tried not to cry. I looked in the mirror and thought I looked like a boy. I saw normal, microscopic hairs on my chin and thought I was masculinizing. I thought about my "hermaphroditism" every single second, and cried myself to sleep every night. I screamed at my mother, furious at her for having a child, knowing that this could happen to me!! Around this point, I began seeing a psychologist. She helped immensely, but still, I had the feeling that she was really interested in having one of those people in her very own presence. Once, I asked her if she had ever seen anyone else with my problem, and she said no, but she had seen a transsexual. This crushed me, as if she thought I was to be compared with them. I didn't know if I was a girl or a boy, I even felt weird when people referred to me as "her."

It has been over a year since I found out about my AIS. I have a female endocrinologist who explained my situation in great detail for me at two different times. I have two parents who will not speak of my problem unless I bring it up, and it is ackward. I am on an antidepressant now. I have told only two people, an aunt and my sister, about my problem. Everyone else thinks that I am perfectly normal. I am scared to death about having a boyfriend, having sex, and telling a man about my problems.

My life goes on, and my AIS is just an ugly thing in the back of my mind. However, it is all I think about when I meet a boy. What would he say if he saw that I have no pubic hair? What if I really can't have sex? The questions are endless, and scary. I am trying so hard to be comfortable with my AIS, and it gets easier every day. However, it takes only one article, tv show, or word about hermaphroditism and the like for me to be depressed again. It is a very long road to be happy with myself, and I hope I reach the end of it soon. I hope and pray that I will meet a man who will love and accept me. Until then, I just want to get reacquainted with the new me, the person I never knew until a year ago.

-Marie