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The
Man in the Mirror
- by
Sinclair (“Sy”) Rogers
Imagine—me
married! A day of rejoicing and celebration, of sharing
love between family and friends. At my side was my wife,
the woman I loved. But special as it was, our wedding
held a much deeper significance.
There was a time when I would
never have believed such fulfillment was possible for
me. Only three years earlier, I was lost in pursuit
of my identity, desperately seeking love and acceptance.
I was transsexual—at least that’s what my
psychiatrist called it. Although physically a man, I
felt “trapped” in the wrong body. I was obsessed
with the desire to change my outward gender and conform
my body to what I believed I really was—both mentally
and emotionally. I convinced myself, and worked hard
to convince others, that sex-change surgery was necessary
for me if I was ever to lead a fulfilled life.
Unlike many transsexuals, however,
I was also very homosexually active prior to my sex-change
efforts. I began having homosexual encounters before
I was ten years old I was aware of an intense desire
to be intimate with men, and I wanted men to desire
me too.
Watching movies as a child,
I noticed that the girl was always the object of the
hero’s attention and affection. My heart would
ache as I thought, I wish I were wanted like that.
The first half of my life was
an emotional concentration camp. My alcoholic mother
was killed in a car wreck when I was four. Prior to
that, I was sexually molested by a family “friend.”
After my mom’s death, I was sent to live with relatives
for several months while my father pieced together a
new life for himself. When I returned to live with my
dad and grandmother in our small hometown, my father
earnestly attempted to rebuild our relationship—and
he was mystified by my refusal to bond with him. I perceived
that my dad had abandoned me; I was angry and hurt,
and vowed never to be hurt again, especially by my father.
Later in school, I was routinely
ridiculed, rejected and physically abused due to my
effeminate mannerisms. Feeling a complete failure as
a male, and seeing no hope for improvement, I begged
God to change me into a woman.
A break from this tension came
when I went to Brazil as an exchange student. During
that summer, I felt acceptance from Brazilian people.
My host’s parents were actors in the theatre, so
they worked with mans’ open homosexuals. As I met
these people and saw their apparent success, I decided
maybe there was a chance I could be happy and homosexual.
So I embraced my inner desires.
After all, I told myself, I’m attracted to other
guys, and everyone else seems so certain that I’m
gay. So I guess that’s what I really am.
Shortly after my return to the
U.S., I joined the military. I wasn’t rejected
for being feminine, though some men did avoid me. Yet
others sought me out for secret encounters. In spite
of the perverseness, sex became my only means for being
wanted or for feeling valued. This temporary security
made all the risks worth taking.
I was eventually stationed in
Hawaii. There I totally immersed myself in Honolulu’s
gay scene. Many homosexuals are mature and responsible
but I, like many others, was not. I got involved in
minor prostitution, drug abuse, and the sometimes dangerous
life of the street.
But I also began to grow weary
of my gay lifestyle. Behind the facade of acceptance
and the promise of love, I saw many unhappy, cynical
and desperate people. They were all searching for that
elusive “perfect match” that would fulfill
them. Couples who claimed to be in love were often objects
of envy and doubt.
How long will it last this time?
I asked myself. Could this be all there is to life?
Most of my gay friends said we were born gay—we
couldn’t change. Some even believed that God had
created them to be homosexual.
Returning
to Hawaii after being on tour in the Orient for several
months. I learned that my two closest gay friends were
now attending a “gay church,” the Metropolitan
Community Church (MCC) of Honolulu.
I wasn’t
really interested in God at the time, but I did like
the idea of a religion that approved of my sexuality.
Up to this point religious people, though often sincere,
seemed only to offer me a message of condemnation. I
thought that God only loved heterosexuals. Eventually
my two gay friends became the first male couple to be
“married” in the state of Hawaii. I was one
of the best men at their wedding.
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