Mom’s and Little “Girl “

Mom’s and Little Girl

Every time I meet him, no matter what we talk about, he always comes back to this story— something he never forgets and still imagines often. He grew up with a strict mother who controlled everything, even his gender expression. “Mom liked to make me wear stockings,” he quietly begins when he drinks, “dresses with frills, silky fabrics, and her high heels that were a bit too big, but I had to wear them and walk right.” Mom would sit there, watch him, and tell him to smile, speak sweetly, and act like a little girl. “I tried my best—not because I feared punishment, but because I wanted to please her.” In the silence and control, he started to love it without fully understanding why. He didn’t know then that the strange feelings inside were what people call “submission” or “being dominated.” All he knew was that he wanted mom to control him like that again and again. “It felt like I disappeared from myself and became what mom wanted… a small body that listened, was arranged, painted, and shaped, always checked if I was good enough to be ‘a good girl.’” He remembers the sound of stockings rubbing together as he walked, the scent of mom’s perfume on the clothes he wore, and her calm voice saying, “You’re not good enough yet. Don’t walk like a boy… try again.” Every time he tells me this story, I see in his eyes someone who isn’t stuck in the past with sadness, but someone who’s never found anyone else who makes him feel “owned” the way mom did. He doesn’t want to be a woman— he wants to be “mom’s good little girl,” the little sister mom tells to stand straight, speak softly, and smile, even when punished. He is a reflection of submission formed in childhood— a role forced on him, but one he came to love deeply. Though it may seem contradictory, in his inner world, it’s a kind of freedom— a satisfaction in being completely owned by someone.