Jim Costich

Over the years, people have asked my adopted son Tony or me, if I'm his “real” father. The two of us have come up with snappy answers like: "No, I have such a good imagination you can see him too."

Real father. The question of realness used to haunt me. Are adoptive fathers “real” fathers? Is an intersexed man—what used to be called a hermaphrodite -  “real”, since we’re not exactly male or female and sort of both?

At birth, my parents were only told that my genitals were ambiguous and a hormone given to my mother during her pregnancy might have caused this. My parents thought "ambiguous" meant my penis didn't completely develop and I had no testes. I was given testosterone starting in my teens so I could grow up, but I was 44 before I found out what my body contains. I always thought I was an unfinished male. It turns out that the hormone progestin causes intersexing of XX, (female), babies!   I actually had underdeveloped female organs, and partially masculinized genitals. Learning about my body didn’t throw me into an identity crisis, rather, knowing my whole body made me feel whole.  Knowing set me free to celebrate what I am rather than feeling inferior for what I’m not.

Lies, fear, secrecy, and shame are the hallmarks of an intersexed persons'

childhood. If we are lucky we escaped with our bodies intact. Although intersex rarely presents a medical problem that requires surgery, most intersexed children born between 1960 and 1980 were subjected to genital surgery done without their consent, without complete disclosure to parents, and with no regard to loss of sensation, function, continence, fertility or the appropriateness of an enforced gender assignment.  I am lucky to have escaped surgery, to live in my own body, and to grow into my own identity – a gay, intersexed, man. 

I have been with my partner, Tim, for 10 years and am a stepparent to his daughter, as well as my son.  We’re a “real” family.

In childhood I was told I couldn’t be a “real” father because I had no testes.  I learned that adoption was a way to become a father but thought that “THEY” wouldn’t let me adopt because I was gay and not physically a “real” man.  Imagine my amazement when in 1991 I stood in the judge' s chambers being legally declared a father. It happened again when Tim’s daughter started calling me her other Daddy. 

  Over the years I’ve been honored on Mother’s and Father’s day by people who don’t know I’m intersexed.  It happened again last spring: a man walked up to me in church, hugged me, and said, "Happy Mother's Day, Jim!" It was clearly spontaneous. As he let me go, his face registered, “Why the hell did I just do that?”  I just grinned and said, "Thanks!"

When I talk with male or female people about being intersexed they invariably re-evaluate what makes them male/female, men/women, and often ask me to help them figure it out. "What am I really?” they ask.  We’re all real.  Really.

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Jim Costich lives in Rochester, NY with his partner Tim Schramm. They have a teenage daughter and son.