Trying Again

Recently I attempted to start a blog on tumblr. ( After posting for a short time I realized that tumblr is not the appropriate platform for what I want to say and do. My friend Zach Heider, author of Inkwell, Incsuggested I switch to wordpress. So here I am. Future blog posts will hopefully focus on how together we(read: humanity) can create solutions to alleviate and maybe even fix the problems of our world. Today however is about introduction.

My name is Olivia Jackson. I was assigned male-at-birth and I now identify as trans-female. I’ve been in transition since August 2014, I attend Butler University for Theatre, Creative Writing and Gender & Religious Studies. I consider myself a New Age Pagan Christian Anarchist Feminist.

And now the long version…

I was born in San Antonio, Texas on June 29, 1992. At the time I was assigned the gender identification of Male. This is how I was raised, in a “traditional” family setting, conservative values, etc…

I remember from a young age wanting to play with toys and do activities traditionally associated with the “female gender.” Not exclusively, I loved my Hotwheels and little Buzz Lightyear. Still, I was upset when my mother gave away my only baby-doll. I just couldn’t understand why she had given away that specific toy, and not the others. I was probably three or four.

I remember having dreams of girls with penises. I remember telling my dad and we ended up praying that the demons would leave me alone. That was my first real indication that there was something odd about some of the thoughts I was having and so I never told my parents that I wanted to paint my nails like my mother. I was maybe 7 or 8.

My religious upbringing taught me that if I had enough faith and prayed hard enough, God would grant my heart’s desire. Of course I always did wonder “What if it is my heart’s desire to be a chicken?”

Anywho… when I started puberty I thought that if I prayed hard enough that God would give me breasts, if I had enough faith they would grow in. Not so. I tried this for weeks before I started “borrowing” some of my mothers over-the-counter  hormone balancing pills. During this time my mother’s underwear began “disappearing” from her closet… This lasted till I was around 16.

After that failed, and my mother began chronicling the adventures of the great underwear thief, I made myself forget. I re-immersed myself in the Conservative values of my upbringing, rededicated my life to Jesus, and took a private vow to avoid sexual immorality.

My father had long been abusive, both threatening and enacting violence against his children in the name of discipline. He hadn’t hit me in any way since I was probably 13, as that is the “age of accountability” and well if you aren’t on your way to heaven by this point, Lord help you, because not being hit didn’t mean not being yelled at by someone doing a really bad Star Wars villain impression.

“Olivia I am your Father, Join me on the darkside we have Jesus!!!!” Now he couldn’t ever manage to figure how to shoot lightning from his fingers, but if he could have managed it I’m pretty sure I’d be in the good company of the likes of Anakin and Luke. I digresss…

Around this time issues with my abusive father began to grow worse, my younger brother’s more “liberal”(read: human) tendencies began to cause “issues”. Often when my dad would strike up an “I’m not yelling” match with my Mom, usually about how he disapproved of something one of the kids or his wife had said, my brother would react in kind. Yelling back, returning threats of violence with threats of violence, and in the end everyone felt emotionally bruised and battered. My dad refused to take responsibility, often saying that if my Mom had meant it when she apologized for the imagined slight, or if the kids were better at answering him the way he wanted the fight wouldn’t have happened. Basically he wanted us to placate him. I tried to find ways to get to the roots of the problems between my parents, though it wasn’t until my Sophomore year of university that I realized everything boiled down to lack of healthy communication. Since that realization, and my increasing knowledge of just how much reality one must deny to be conservative, I decided I was done living in the family home. I was 21.

The summer right before my junior year I moved out of the family home and into my girlfriend’s apartment in Chicago. We had been together for a 1 year and a few months by this point and I felt so comfortable around her that I was finally able to tell someone that I’d always wanted to wear a dress and have tits. After she started letting me try on her dresses, I began researching cross-dressing and trans identity. I found Progressive Christian resources that helped me feel at peace with God and my feelings, and by the time the second weekend of August 2014 rolled around I had come out to my girlfriend (who is now my fiance). I was 22.

About a month later, with the super support of friends and counselors, I came out to my family. It went as badly as one could expect. Tears, anger. “How could you do this to me” and “I’m so sorry I failed you” were common phrases in those days. and the ever popular “You’re going against God’s plan for your life.” Sheeesh people, I didn’t kill anyone. (Well, not yet but that’s a different blog post.)

Then my parents temporarily separated, my transition finally waking them up to their lack of communication. Nowadays they seem to be communicating better, but with resources like Focus on the Family and the Advanced Training Institute (which I recently learned is a Quiverfull resource) hope for my parents growth is low. My siblings however, are doing rather well. My 20 yr old brother is accepting, even if uncomfortable and my older brother and younger sister have shown me nothing but support and love. (still 22)

I’m now in the Summer break before Senior year starts, I’ve been on hormones for a little over 2 1/2 months, and I’m going to launch a a plan to begin the apocalypse according to the the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch…

Okay, so maybe I’m not the Anti-Christ, but sometimes people certainly act like LGBT people are. If my dad is right and the Girl Scouts are “Homosexual Terrorists”, I kinda wish I had been one, because man to be called a terrorist for being open and accepting feels great I bet!

And that’s all I have to say today, thank you for reading, and have a good day! I will post more in the future about the purpose of this blog!

All Hail,

Olivia Jackson

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