For a Girl by J.T. D'Arelli (best ereader for pdf .txt) 📖

"Your honor, our goal today is not to heap misfortune upon the young person we see before us. We appreciate the challenge presented by the phenomenon of Gender Biomorphism and we are sympathetic to the plight of this child. We have no wish to cause more pain. Having said that, we are determined to seek fairness. Melody McCarthy is an outstanding athlete with a proven record of excellence. But her record assumes honorable competition among equals.

"That assumption, however, is placed in jeopardy by the participation of young Lind running as a female. We will show today that the uncertainties of GB's origins, its effects on the human body and the unknown ramifications of GB over the long run render any attempt to categorize a GB victim as fully female premature at best.

"We wish to reassure the court that we are not motivated by a desire to prevent a competitor from achieving his or her goals... (a couple of snorts from the gallery at that) but rather, by a sincere intent to ensure a level playing field — where those who are truly females can compete against each other in the spirit of equality, and can then take comfort in knowing they have measured themselves against the best of their kind. Perhaps one day, when the phenomenon of GB is more fully understood, it will be appropriate for young Lind to join such competition. But that time is not now."

It was a very smooth argument, I thought. Oxton's strategy was exactly as Mr. Martin had predicted — cast seeds of doubt over the true status of my gender by demonstrating all that was unknown about GB. And using a female attorney, expressing a superficial concern for my emotions was clever as well. Finally, the near artful avoidance of any gender pronouns for me — adding to my sexual ambiguity.

Then it was Mr. Martin's turn. He stood, and looked not at Judge Burrell, but rather at the Oxton table.

"'But that time is not now.'" he replayed the last quote. "If not now, when? It is rather convenient for Oxton to defer Miss Lind's opportunity to compete until after she no longer represents an impediment to their own athlete. And since opposing counsel raised the issue, I look forward to exploring the motivation behind Oxton's legal action in due time."

"But most relevant here is a simple reality. Stephanie Lind is a girl — fully female in every way. We will establish that today. She easily passes every reasonable standard of femininity science and society can set. And once we've proven her gender is as undeniable as that of any young woman, we will demonstrate the overwhelming precedents in American case law that mandate she be granted what she has already earned — a fair chance to compete."

"That is the true 'level playing field' Oxton claims to desire — one where all female athletes may take said field in honorable contest, free from prejudice, bigotry or... greed." He gave just the briefest of contemptuous glances at the Oxton side. Addressing the judge once more, he concluded: "If Oxton's petition succeeds, it will serve to legitimize the stigma associated with the transgendered, and score a victory for the forces of intolerance. But even more importantly, justice will be denied for this young girl. We can... we must do better for her."

There was a smattering of applause as my attorney sat down. Judge Burrell banged the gavel and called for order.

"Now it's my turn," he said. "Contrary to what you may have seen at the OJ trial, I run a very efficient courtroom. There will be no tolerance for showboating or theatrics. We have no jury in this matter, and despite the remarkable attention from the media (he looked at Mr. Martin with an irritated expression) I will not be influenced by any outside interest. 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 is able to 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 — never 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 a 17 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 no difference could be detected. 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 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 recognizes 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 as well. 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 a — was 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 prior to 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