Day after day I persevered. For the first week I struggled to hold my gaze at the mirror, unable to utter a word. After about ten days, I was able to look at myself full face. But when it came to saying anything, I just cried.
I couldn't speak, too frightened to acknowledge who I was. Only after several weeks could I stand in front of the mirror and say, "Thank you, Father, for making me a woman". No sentence has ever been as hard to say as that one. For years, I'd felt detached from my femininity.
"You should have been a boy", my mother told me numerous times when I was little, and I had mentally agreed with her. I'm stronger than most girls my age. I can play soccer with the best of the boys. And I hate dolls. All good reasons not to be a girl, I concluded.
My father encouraged my masculine pursuits, and I constantly sought his approval. I was never close to my mother. We had so little in common that I'd sometimes wonder, Am I really her daughter?
When I was ten, I began attending an all-girl's school. I struggled academically, but I did excel at sports, and was able to achieve some semblance of self-esteem through that subject. Early adolescence wasn't too bad. All the girls had crushes on each other. We would practise getting married to each other at recess, and pledge undying friendships for the rest of our lives.
But, one by one, my friends passed onto the next stage: almost overnight, they became obsessed with boys.
I waited for my interests to change, but my same-sex desires only deepened. By the age of 13, I knew that I wanted a woman to fill the empty places I felt inside. I didn't tell anyone of my struggles. Who could possibly understand?
There's only one way to stay close to my girlfriends, I reasoned. I'll look like the men they admire. I had my hair cut like their favorite pop star, and wore the clothes they like on the men.
My plan didn't work. The girls soon ignored me, and I was left feeling like a third sex. I didn't belong-either as one of the boys or one of the girls.
At 18 I entered university and majored in physical education. My doubts and fears about being gay were confirmed when I was seduced by a senior female teacher.
That was the beginning of a torrid relationship which lasted four years. The fact that my teacher had four children-the eldest being only four years younger than I-added to my stress level. To deaden my confusion, I drank heavily and dabbled in drugs.
After university, I became a teacher and house parent at a girls' boarding school. I dearly loved the children, and teaching provided stability in my life.
But, after several years, I sensed the need for a complete change. Not being good at confrontation and feeling unable to break off my current lesbian relationship, I took a job in Australia. With such a grand gesture, I figured my partner would get the hint!
I moved to New South Wales in January, 1983, and began working in an all-girls' Christian school. It was a perfect setup for God to begin working in my life. The majority of the teachers were "born again". The town was small and I was 500 miles from the nearest gay bar.
My coworkers dubbed me the "happy heathen". When a few of them tried to witness, I'd quickly change the subject. Conversely, I was attracted to those who never spoke about the Gospel, but who had a quality of life that intrigued me. There was something different about their lives, but I wasn't sure exactly what.
Nine months later I became brave enough to borrow a Christian book from another teacher. "I'll read it on one condition", I told her. "Don't you dare tell anyone else about this!" I even hid the book from my roommate, Sue, and only read at night in bed under the covers!
Satan was fighting a battle for my soul. Unfortunately, as my interest in God increased, so did my interest in Sue. We soon became lovers.
The following weeks were euphoric; my senses were awakened, both physically and spiritually. I wanted to be a Christian and remain gay, yet I knew that homosexuality was contrary to God's plan.
I left Australia soon after Christmas, 1984. In my mind I was leaving behind the one person I loved: Sue. It also felt like I was abandoning my search for God.
Landing back in England on New Year's Eve, I immediately went to the local gay club. What a shock! Even though there was lots of laughter, all around me I saw lonely, hurting people. It was a startling contrast to my Christian coworkers of the previous year.
"I've found something better", I told people for the rest of the evening. "I don't know what it is, but I know that it's better than this!"
I began avoiding the clubs, and spent the next month teaching by day and feverishly reading my Bible at night. I missed Sue enormously and ran up a colossal telephone bill telling her so, but our physical separation was just what I needed to get my life on track with God.
At 2:30 a.m. on the night of January 23, 1985, I read John 15:16 "You did not choose me, but I chose and appointed you to go out and bear fruit...".
I finally understood. I'm not to choose God, just simply accept what He's offering me. Instinctively I began attending the local Baptist Church, and soon warmed to the people's love and acceptance.
But I found it hard to associate with families at church. Up to now, my life had consisted of single career women. The only men I'd ever know were rather weak and ineffective. They seemed totally irrelevant. All a man could do was father a child and I was in no mood for children!
Another aspect of church was hard to accept: men seemed to be running the whole show. Fortunately, God healed me quickly in this area. He showed me that the male leadership was not "lording" it over the women, but truly serving the congregation as a whole.
The Lord also showed me the important roles held by many of the women, including the role of deaconess. This awareness helped me submit to my church leadership very quickly.
Five months after my conversion I felt God calling me into full-time Christian work. I had no idea of the specifics, but my pastor and the church membership confirmed the call.
I told one couple in the church about my lesbian struggles, and they began to disciple me in order that I might know more of God's love.
Then, in January of 1987, my church sent me to a small Bible school in North Wales, mainly to seek the Lord for my future. Within three days, I felt led to tell the school's leaders about my past.
"We know", said David, one of the directors. "God has already told us about you."
I was disgusted with God. "Isn't anything sacred?", I asked Him. Obviously not, I decided, and soon afterward my lesbian problems really surfaced. I became involved in a dependent relationship and felt increasingly separated from God.
Then another issue came to the surface: unacceptance of my feminine identity. I never considered myself to be a Christian woman, only a Christian person. A visiting teacher challenged me to thank God that I was a woman. I struggled for several weeks in front of a mirror to say the words.
When God showed me that I was to confess my homosexual struggles to my home church back in Battle, I panicked. Surely they will reject me, I thought. But upon my return home, I confessed my homosexual past and my present struggles at a Sunday morning service. Anticipating complete rejection , I had already prepared myself to move on to another church. To my astonishment, the whole congregation gave me a standing ovation. They pledged to help me in any way they could. In January, 1988, with my church's full financial backing, I moved to San Rafael to begin Love in Action's yearlong program for women. God began some intense healing.
One of my most traumatic times of the whole year occurred during a "make-over session" organized by the ministry leaders. All women tried on different kinds of makeup, selected to complement our skin, eyes and hair coloring.
I felt like a performing monkey throughout the afternoon, and immediately removed all traces of makeup soon after the teacher had left.
But, with the encouragement of other women in the program, I persevered. Wearing makeup proved easier than receiving recognition for wearing it. At first, when people noticed and commented on how "pretty" and "feminine" I looked, I would rush straight into the bathroom and wipe it off.
Gradually I learned to say "thank you" and smile. Internally, however, I was still reeling. My outer appearance was not reflecting my old identity.
Then came a breakthrough during a retreat in February, 1989. "You have believed a lie", God told me, "but I'm going to change your name". From now on, He showed me, I was to be called "woman". This was God's intention for me from my conception.
In faith I received my new name. Almost immediately I felt a weight fall away from me. In amazement, I looked around at the other women. No longer did I feel distanced from them; we were united by a common bond in Jesus Christ.
That day, the wall I had erected as a child came tumbling down. I entered into my rightful role as a woman of Christ. I felt as though I belonged-at long last.
As I have entered into my identity as a woman, God is healing my views on men. Now I see them as having a major role in my life. We complement each other, and I realize now that my life has been enriched because of them.
Just the other day, in the middle of a conversation, I sensed God smiling at me. There I was, sitting with a group of straight, married women discussing colors, makeup and hairstyles!
The work God is doing isn't finished yet. But He's promised to complete the good work He's begun in my life (see Phil 1:6). God has been faithful to me and I can face the future with confidence. I'm secure in His love. After all, He knows me by name.
Jeanette Howard is the author of Out of Egypt: Leaving
Lesbianism Behind.
Copyright (C) by Jeanette Howard. Distributed by Love in Action,
PO Box 753307, Memphis, TN 38175-3307; 901/542-0250
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