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Dear diary

Today is the day! I'm wearing my normal clothes and I'm going to prove to Mom and Dad that they made a mistake. I am not a boy but their daughter.

I'm wearing my favorite pleated skirt, black tights, white blouse with the peter pan collar just like I see those girls wear to that school I so want to attend. But I cannot because Mommy and Daddy keep trying to make me a boy.

It hurts so much when they call me a boy! Even that name Dalan hurts it's not my real name. I don't know what my real name is as I haven't let myself think that way for some time.

Every night I cry myself to sleep because of the 'boy' and 'Dalan' names. They feel worse than the bad names people call me at school. I do not understand why Mommy and Daddy cannot see me as I really am!

Look at me I'm even crying as I write this down. How many icky boys do that!

I just heard Mommy and Daddy drive up! Now is the time to show them but I am so scared! What if they hurt me?

NO its too scary I'll change back into the Dalan costume and hide my normal clothes with you dear diary under my matress all safe and sound.

Kiss kiss hugs.


Jim and I arrived home and I hoped beyond hope that for once our little girl would show herself. I know that if she came down as herself I could finally be brave enough to confront Jim on the fact our youngest was really our little girl.

Sadly it was Dalan the boy who came downstairs. It almost broke my heart to see this sad little boy with the droopy shoulders try to act like she was happy to see us. Its so painful to watch my little girl try so hard to be a boy. I can see it hurts her but until she can tell us I cannot do anything. My heart belongs to Jim but its painful to see how much he enjoys having two sons and tries to include Dalan into whatever boy activites they do.

They have now left to go to the mall to get Jason a new baseball glove as during his game this morning his old one fell apart. I had hoped that my little girl would show us how pretty she was if we left her alone. But she hasn't.

I reach under her mattress and pull out the few items she has under their, the pretty blouse, grey pleated skirt, the panties, the tights, and the worst item the diary. The first time I found and read that diary I felt like my heart would burst from despair. To see how to her eyes we were being cruel. I cried openly for hours. My poor little Deanna, which is what we would have named her if she had been born a girl.

I can't do anything though she has to make the first step. I am so scared I might loose her if I push it. I'm prepared to even divorce my husband Jim if it is what it will take to make my poor little daughter whole. For now I will wash her clothes once a week, careful as always to put them back.


My poor little Diana. I see you sitting in the back seat of the car trying so hard to be a boy for your mom's sake. I just don't know what to do. All the guys I spoke to about this say I should make you man up and be a man instead of encouraging the 'sissy' behavior. They just don't see you like I do.

I know in my heart of hearts that you are really my little girl Diana which is what you would have been named if you had been born a girl. It pains me to see you try so hard everyday. Your mom doesn't seem to see how when she says "and these are our two boys" that you cringe as if you have been hit.

I have done what I can. I casually left the box of girl clothes for you to take after I had spent all that time getting them for you. It wasn't easy to do so without your mom knowing and Daisy suggestion of "clothes for charity" was a good one. Although I knew you had taken out the clothes I had bought for you I played that I didn't notice just so there would be a chance to see you really smile once.

I love your mother Janet with all my heart but to tell her that one of her babies is really a girl would probably break her heart and I just cannot bring myself to do so.

I am sorry that I sometimes make you do boy stuff with us but it is for your mothers sake that she sees two boys.


My parents are nuts. Can't they see that they are hurting my sister with this insistence that she be a boy!

I have done what I can for her. I trade away many of my baseball cards for those broken barbies and put one together just for her. Yeah it may have a different color arm but at least its something she can actually play with and the few doll clothes I got for her are not much but when I gave it to her it was like watching sunshine. Her face became soo animated and so much a girl I had to run away to my room and cry for her.

It hurts me so much that adults are so blind to her pain. Today I even broke my baseball glove so we could go to sears and get a new one. The store where the sports section is right beside the pretty girl section so she can look at the clothes I know she aches to wear.

I tried to get help for her but I am scared of doing it again. The one teacher told me I didn't know what I was talking about and the other one is convince I am really Janice instead. If being Janice for my little sister is what it will take to bring an end to her pain then for that teacher I will be.


Poor Janice I can see her trying so hard to protect her little sister it breaks my heart. I am only their teacher and I can see how much poor little Dalan is such a girl. She only plays with the other girls and talks just like them. Janice is trying just as hard to not show her girl side as she doesn't like being teased. She is such a tomboy!

If their parents would just come to me for help! I have all the documentation on this being a real problem and even a list of doctors to see but my hands are tied. So for now I listen to that poor girl pour out her heart about her little sister.

I was so touched when the girls of the class came forward with that work of art showing me that Dalan was really a girl and almost begging me to do something so that she wouldn't be made by her parents to be a boy. I have that treasure pinned up in the staffroom where many of the other teachers agree but as a whole our hands are tied until one of the parents makes some move to let us help.

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