SEE WHAT BRUCE JENNER'S EX-WIFE LINDA THOMPSON WROTE ABOUT HIM
Bruce Jenner's second wife and mother of his sons, Brandon
and Brody Jenner, actress/lyricist Linda Thompson, 64, wrote an article titled
'How Living With and Loving Bruce Jenner Changed My Life Forever'. In the
piece, Linda explains how Bruce came to her in 1985 and told her 4 years after
they got married that he wanted to become a woman. This actually led to their
divorce. "If Bruce had told me about his gender issue when we first began
getting romantically involved, I would not have married him. Pure and
simple." Linda writes. Her story is quite touching. Read below..
By now, Bruce Jenner has revealed his struggle with gender
dysphoria. I never would have dared to speak on this issue before he was
comfortable enough to do so first. It is, after all, his truth, so I knew he
should be afforded the dignity to reveal that truth on his own time and in the
way he sees fit. I have respectfully kept his secrets private and would have
taken his confidences to my grave had he not spoken out.
But now, many years into his remarkable life, he has spoken
out. His legacy will likely be sprinkled with references like
"Olympian," "decathlon gold medalist," "world's
greatest athlete," "son," "brother,"
"husband," "father," "grandfather," "friend,"
and, hopefully, "pioneer" and "trailblazer for the civil rights
of the transgender community."
So as much as this is about Bruce, it's not all about him.
The sharing of my experience is meant to enlighten and inform -- to lend a
modicum of comfort and support for all those disenfranchised, struggling,
discriminated-against, searching souls.
Bruce's story and his struggle are uniquely his; my
experiences with Bruce are commensurately uniquely my own. Following is a brief
history of my time with Bruce -- a life experience that shaped my existence
immeasurably.
One hot Memphis night in July 1976, Elvis (yes, that Elvis)
and I were watching the Summer Olympics that were being held in Montréal.
We were lying in bed (our usual perch) at Graceland and had
been watching the telecast for days. We were pretty closely following the
American athlete Bruce Jenner, who was dominating the decathlon competition.
Bruce was on the final lap of his last race, the 10th event, and as he crossed
the finish line to win the Olympic gold medal in the decathlon competition,
distinguishing himself as the "world's greatest athlete," Elvis and I
were exuberant about the win for the United States! We were also commenting on
what an amazing specimen of a man Bruce Jenner was. Elvis remarked, "Damn
if that guy is not handsome! I'm not gay, but damn, he's good-looking!" I
quite agreed and teasingly said, '"Wow! He is gorgeous! I'm going to marry
that guy someday!" Elvis replied, "Yeah, sure, honey, over my dead
body."
I met Bruce Jenner at a celebrity tennis tournament three
years later, in the spring of 1979. The tournament was a benefit for the John
Tracy Clinic for deaf children. The event was held at the Playboy Mansion. I
had never been to the mansion before, but Bruce had been living there part-time
since his separation from his then-wife Chrystie.
I was a regular cast member on the TV variety show Hee Haw
and a fledgling actress of some note (think Aaron Spelling shows), so I was
invited to the mansion to hand out the winning trophies to the participants
playing tennis. No surprise, Bruce won the tournament, and I presented him with
his trophy. That's how we first met, on a tennis court.
Bruce was clad in shorts and a sweaty T-shirt, his
well-toned, muscular body still in Olympic form. He was sweet, shy, and very
gentlemanly. He asked me if I came to the Playboy Mansion often, and I said,
"Oh, gosh, no! I've never even been here before!" I remember thinking
I didn't want to give him the wrong impression. I didn't want him to think I
was an aspiring Playmate!
His friendliness became a little flirty, so I asked him
outright, "Hey, aren't you married?! I watched you win the Olympics, and
as I recall, your wife was very present!" Bruce's whole demeanor changed
as he sadly responded, "No, I'm separated, and it's really not a lot of
fun." He seemed so childlike and lost in that moment that my heart truly
went out to him. I said I was sorry to hear that, and we continued to chat for
a while, still on the court.
Everyone at the John Tracy Clinic event was reconvening for
dinner after tennis, and Bruce had planned to go home, shower, and change
clothes before coming back to the event for dinner. However, he kept hanging
around and finally explained, "I really don't want to leave you alone
here, even for a little while. I've seen how George Peppard and others are
looking at you and just waiting for me to leave so they can hit on you."
I thought, "How charming and gallant!" Bruce
stayed in his shorts and T-shirt while others were dressed for dinner, and he
and I continued to get to know each other. Bruce asked me out for dinner, and,
of course, I said yes. Thus began a romantic relationship that lasted several
years and produced two wonderful sons.
Bruce already had an adorable young son named Burt, and
during a brief reconciliation with Christie, they were blessed with a beautiful
baby girl named Cassandra. Burt and Casey (as I call her) have always been a
tremendous blessing and gift to my life.
During the course of our dating, Bruce and I traveled to
Australia to promote his upcoming film with the Village People, Can't Stop the
Music. Alan Carr had produced the movie, and we became fast friends. Alan was
very flamboyant, funny, creative, and generous. Alan insisted that, on our
return trip from Australia, Bruce and I let him treat us to a pre-honeymoon of
four days on the incredibly gorgeous island of Bora Bora in Tahiti.
Bruce and I had a relaxing and romantic time on this
enchanting island. We stayed in one of those thatched-roofed, over-the-water
huts, so we could just step off our deck into the crystal-clear water and be
swimming with the multicolored fish instantly. At night we would lie under the
stars and talk about our future and the magical quality of the universe in
which we lived.
The Bruce I knew back then was an easygoing, down-to-earth,
casual, romantic, good and loving man. I was extremely happy to have found such
a remarkable partner with whom to share my life. I found him to be honorable
and, well, just too good to be true. Just too good to be true indeed.
I found myself pregnant for the first time in my life. When
the doctor's office called me to tell me the results of the pregnancy test, I
fell to my knees with joy and prayed that I would be worthy of carrying that
precious life. It is a feeling I'll never forget. I really felt in that moment
that whatever had transpired in my life of any negative nature, any
transgression I had ever perpetrated, had somehow been cleansed away from my
being. This was a new start for my life. Clearly I was deliriously delighted
with the news.
Bruce and I were married Jan. 5, 1981. We were married at
the beautiful, beachfront Hawaiian home of Alan Carr. There were only about 35
people in attendance, including our parents. Bruce's son Burt served as the
best man, even though he was only 2 years old and was constantly interrupting
our nuptials with "I want up." It was very sweet and lent a warm,
familial touch to the ceremony. My nieces, Jennifer and Amy Thompson, served as
the flower girls, and my sister-in-law Louise was my matron of honor. It really
was quite an extraordinarily beautiful wedding. We said our I-dos at 6 p.m.,
just as the sun was setting over the placid, blue Pacific Ocean.
It should be noted that Bruce was a very secure man, because
the music I chose to walk down the aisle to was Elvis Presley's "Hawaiian
Wedding Song." It had always been my dream to get married in Hawaii. It
was a dream that had been spawned by Elvis' movie Blue Hawaii. I had watched
that movie over and over as a little girl and always thought, "How very
romantic it would be to get married in such a beautiful paradise!" To
Bruce's credit, he went along with my fairytale plans for a cinematically
inspired, sunset wedding in Alan Carr's Japanese garden at the base of Diamond
Head, on Waikiki Beach, on the beautiful island of Oahu, Hawaii. Only Elvis was
missing in my fairytale wedding.
Brandon Thompson Jenner was born June 4, 1981. I thought I
knew what love was before giving birth to my baby, but whatever I had
experienced in the past paled in comparison to the utterly unconditional love I
immediately felt for the little bundle I now held in my arms. Burt and Casey
came to the hospital and got to see and bond with their new little brother
Brandon.
Those were very happy days for me. I truly loved Burt and
Casey, and Brandon was the absolute sunshine in every day of my life! This
newfound motherhood thing seemed to be my natural calling in life. I had
already practiced on Burt and Casey, since Bruce and I frequently had them in
our home, and they were still very young. So I felt prepared to be a mommy to
Brandon. I loved having this little ready-made family to enjoy and spend time
with.
Bruce and I actually made quite a great couple at the time.
We got along exceedingly well and enjoyed many of the same activities, once he
taught me how to do the sports that he enjoyed. Bruce taught me how to jet ski,
water ski, snow ski, play tennis, eat healthfully, work out regularly, and
basically lose my fear of getting my hair wet and opening my eyes underwater.
Well, I may be exaggerating about losing my fear, but it is fair to say that
Bruce unleashed a natural athlete in me. I became a pretty good tennis player,
and Bruce and I even hosted our own celebrity tennis tournament benefiting
United Cerebral Palsy in Children for several years. It was called the Bruce
and Linda Jenner Love Match.
Bruce and I appeared on red carpets regularly, and we were
perceived as a "glamour couple." We also lent our time to charitable
causes. We were the national honorary chairpersons of the Juvenile Diabetes
Association and regularly supported the Special Olympics.
One day we got a call from the White House asking if we
would be available to meet President Ronald Reagan in the Oval Office as
representatives of the Juvenile Diabetes Association. I was still nursing
Brandon, and the timetable was, basically, "We would need you here in
Washington the day after tomorrow." We didn't want to miss the opportunity
to have an audience with the leader of the free world, so I barely had time to
store up some breast milk, find something appropriate to wear, and get on that
plane to our nation's capital. It was a quick turnaround. We were back in
Malibu in a matter of hours, but the honor of meeting the president of the
United States is a lasting memory. I was very content to be back home in Malibu
with my sweet baby Brandon in my arms and an interesting memory to tell him
about when he was older.
Bruce possessed such a natural athleticism in everything he
attempted to do. He seemed to excel in every sport he tried. Whatever he did,
he was daring and cut an amazing form. Bruce was pretty much the perfect
specimen of a man. Men aspired to be like him and wanted to hang out and play
sports with him, and women were clearly attracted to him. The Bruce I knew back
then was unstudied, affable, and seemingly very comfortable in his own skin. So
it seemed.
One summer Bruce and I were asked to do a summer stock
production of Li'l Abner in Birmingham, Alabama. We thought that sounded like
fun, so we agreed to do it. Bruce was surprisingly very musical and liked to
dance. We traveled to Birmingham and went into rehearsals. Of course we took
Brandon along, and he had a great time parading onstage right along with us, in
his very own Li'l Abner costume. We actually got good reviews, although I
discovered live theater was incredibly nerve-racking. I had done plays in high
school before, but this was a full-on musical and was really quite demanding.
Bruce and I spent our days living at the beach, jet skiing,
walking on the beach every morning with our coffee, sailing on a Hobie Cat,
playing tennis, and otherwise just enjoying each other and many of the same
activities. I thought we lived a pretty idyllic life.
When Brandon was just over 1 year old, we thought it would
be nice for him to have a younger sibling. Pretty soon I was delighted to be
pregnant with my second son, Sam Brody Jenner. I named Brody after my brother
Sam. Brody was born Aug. 21, 1983.
Those were the happiest days of my life. I had a wonderful
husband, who was the most athletic, high-spirited, energetic, easygoing, manly
man imaginable. I had two beautiful, healthy baby boys. I had two great
stepchildren. Life was just about as good as it gets. We had moved into a
sweet, one-acre mini-estate where I planted roses, fruit trees, and flowers,
and where many lasting memories were made.
Bruce traveled a lot, doing motivational speaking, working for
NBC SportsWorld, racing cars, and throwing himself into other assorted jobs and
activities. I often accompanied him, always bringing our sons, and sometimes I
stayed home with the boys while he traveled.
When Brody was about 18 months old and Brandon was about 3
and a half years old, Bruce came to me one day with a very somber look on his
face and said, "There's something about me that I really need to tell you,
something you need to know." I truly thought he might possibly tell me he
had had an affair while on the road. But that's not what he wanted to confess
to me. Bruce told me that he identified as a woman. Not understanding exactly
what he meant, I questioned him. "What do you mean you identify as a
woman?" I asked. "What does that mean?" He replied that it meant
that for as long as he could remember, he had looked in the mirror and seen a
masculine image staring back at him where there should have been a feminine
reflection. Bruce lamented, "I have lived in the wrong skin, the wrong
body, my whole life. It is a living hell for me, and I really feel that I would
like to move forward with the process of becoming a woman, the woman I have
always been inside."
People have asked me, "Were there any signs or clues
through the years that Bruce might have had this issue? Any evidence he wore
your clothes?" No. Not a clue. Nothing. Nada. Never.
I would venture to say that 30 years ago, very few of us
were adequately educated about the world of gender dysphoria. I certainly
wasn't. I was living in my little Malibu cocoon of marital, motherly bliss with
my world-champion, muscular, athletic, handsome husband. So my reaction to
Bruce's shocking declaration was one of confusion, even desperation. I
suggested that we go to therapy. I needed to understand fully what Bruce's
issue was, and then to determine if it was something we could overcome or
"fix." I was naïve. As I said, I was pretty ignorant of the fact that
being transgender isn't something that can be overcome, fixed, prayed away,
exorcised or obliterated by any other arcane notion. Being transgender, like
being gay, tall, short, white, black, male, or female, is another part of the
human condition that makes each individual unique, and something over which we
have no control. We are who we are in the deepest recesses of our minds, hearts
and identities. I had to learn that life lesson and apply it to my own
expectations for my future and the future of my family.
I found a therapist who specialized in gender dysphoria. Her
name was Dr. Gertrude Hill, and we began going to her right away. She was a
lovely woman who very calmly, and as gently as she could, massacred me with the
information that broke my heart into a million pieces. She told me in one of
the first few sessions, "Linda, this is who Bruce is. His identity is that
of a woman, and that will never, ever go away. You have a choice to make. If
Bruce goes through with his gender reassignment, as he is now planning to do,
you have the option of staying with him after he becomes she, or you can divorce
him and move on with your life." She told us that 25 percent of
transgender people commit suicide because they are so depressed and feel so
hopeless.
Around that time Bruce considered traveling out of the
country, possibly to Denmark, to have the gender-confirmation surgery and then
come back to the U.S. identifying as female. I asked Bruce, "What about
the children?" He thought maybe he could reenter their lives as "Aunt
Heather."
As devastated as I was, my heart bled for Bruce and what he
must have lived with his entire life. It's impossible for those of us who are
comfortable living in our own skin to fully grasp what an imprisonment that
must feel like to be born into the wrong body. I know it's difficult to
understand, to emotionally or even intelligently wrap your head around. It was
extremely difficult for me to comprehend, and adjust my life accordingly to,
the realization that the man I had married -- the very masculine, gorgeous,
ideal, wonderful hunk of a man -- would be no more. The human entity was still
alive, but it truly was like mourning the death of the person I had grown to
know and love.
Bruce and I separated after going to therapy for about six
months -- just to exhaust any hope of keeping our family together. Being
married to a woman was not what I had envisioned for my life.
I was so heartbroken that I would get in my car day and
night and aimlessly drive up and down Pacific Coast Highway, crying. I mourned
the death of my marriage, my man, and my dream of enjoying a lifetime of family
togetherness. But I was also empathetic to, and mourned for, the pain that
Bruce had experienced every day of his life. As earth-shattering as his
confession had been for me, pulling the proverbial rug out from under my world,
Bruce's struggle made mine pale in comparison. I now had to "man up,"
support Bruce and his decisions regarding his own body, take care of my sons,
and move on with my life.
Bruce went to see a Dr. O'Dea and began taking female
hormones. Thirty years ago the only hair removal that was permanent was
electrolysis. There were no laser hair removal places then, as far as I know.
Poor Bruce began the process of having electrolysis performed on his heavily
bearded face. He then began having the hair on his chest removed. One
excruciatingly painful hair at a time was targeted by an electrical current.
Unimaginable. Bruce began to grow breasts as a result of the female hormones he
was injecting. My life, my psyche, my femininity, my sexuality, my sanity was
in a state of upheaval. I panicked about what I would ever tell my two boys
about their former Olympian father, and how I would raise them alone. And then
I would experience waves of crippling sorrow, not only for myself and my sons
but for Bruce.
I may be the only woman in the state of California to have
waived child support and alimony. But when Bruce and I divorced, that's what I
did. As confused and sad as I was, Bruce was also very confused and extremely
distraught. Again, Dr. Hill had told me that one in four transgender people
commits suicide. I knew I didn't want that to happen. I had an open-door policy
for Bruce when it came to visitation, letting him see his sons any time he
wanted to. Brandon and Brody went over to his home occasionally but never spent
the night there.
One day, after having spent a little time at Bruce's house,
both boys came into the kitchen and said to me, "Mommy, we saw Daddy
getting out of the shower naked, and Daddy has boobs!" That day I began
trying to cover for Bruce, trying to protect him and trying to explain away
what was clearly happening to his visage. I said, "Well, boys, you know
how your dad was super-muscular and trained very hard for the Olympics? He had
big muscles, and some of those muscles are called 'pectorals.'
When you stop training and you stop lifting weights,
sometimes the muscle turns to fat. So his pectoral muscles have probably just
gotten a little flabby and look like boobs." I was trying to shield
Brandon and Brody from the truth and protect Bruce at the same time. It was
exhausting.
I began dating David Foster, whom I subsequently married a
few years later. Bruce dated several women, even though he had begun his
transition and showed signs of it. He had no facial hair, no chest hair, and boobs,
and he had gotten a nose job and trimmed his Adam's apple. Clearly he was still
confused and conflicted as to how fully he was ready to commit to changing his
life completely.
If Bruce had told me about his gender issue when we first
began getting romantically involved, I would not have married him. Pure and
simple. But looking back, I'm so grateful to God, the universe, and Bruce that
I didn't know, and that Bruce played the role in my life that he did. What a
tragedy that truth, if Bruce had confessed it in 1979, would have been for my
existence as I have known it! I would never have experienced the joy, the
honor, the privilege of being the mother of the two most precious gifts I have
ever known, Brandon and Brody. As life has a way of unfolding as it is meant
to, I have learned to trust life.
I
felt such a reverent obligation to keep Bruce's gender dysphoria a
secret for Bruce to reveal or not that I did not even tell my sons until
they were 31 and 29 years old, respectively. I wanted Brandon and Brody
to experience enough life and garner enough knowledge, confidence, and
compassion to be able to deal with their father's true self. We are not
defined by our parents, but we don't know that as young children. I
tried to raise my sons to embrace open hearts, forgiveness, kindness,
tolerance, and compassion. They have been imbued with good values and
are remarkably noble, showing incredible acceptance, understanding, and
forgiveness toward Bruce and others.
I wouldn't be completely forthcoming if I didn't disclose in
this writing that after Bruce and Kris married, there were periods of several
years going by without Bruce attempting to contact or visit his sons. No
birthday cards or phone calls, no "Merry Christmas," no
"Everything OK?" after the big Northridge earthquake. Brandon and
Brody will never have those "Hallmark memories" of father-and-son
moments. They were saddened by his lack of participation in their lives, and my
heart ached for them. When Brandon asked me, "Mom, what kind of a father
doesn't come to his son's graduation?" I meekly replied, "Honey, your
dad may have been the world's greatest athlete physically, but emotionally, you
have to view him in a wheelchair. If he had emotional legs, he'd get up and
walk to you, but he just doesn't right now. Just try to understand him, love
and forgive him." It was an analogy that seemed to soften the blow at the
time, and I do believe that forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves; it's
really not even for the person we choose to forgive but for us. We only do harm
to ourselves when we harbor resentment and vitriol toward another. I do believe
that everything is forgivable; some things are inexcusable but forgivable.
After Brandon and Brody were grown and I did reveal their
father's issue, I think the knowledge helped them put the pieces together and
explain some of Bruce's dysfunctional parenting. I certainly did my share of
rationalizing through it all.
After having harbored his secret, and feeling in my heart
and mind that I have protected him through these years, I can now breathe a
little easier, knowing he now has found the strength and the courage to fulfill
his dream. He can finally realize his need to be who he authentically is, who
he was born to be. That takes tremendous courage. For that I commend him.
Bruce has already "gone through the fire,"
suffered unfathomable discomfort and pain, been held prisoner in his own flesh.
It is certainly not our place to judge him or others who may feel trapped, ostracized,
or alone.
My hope and my prayer is that humanity has evolved enough
and been properly educated to exercise kindness toward those who have struggled
or who we may perceive to be "different." Our uniqueness, our
individuality, and our life experience molds us into fascinating beings. I hope
we can embrace that. I pray we may all challenge ourselves to delve into the
deepest resources of our hearts to cultivate an atmosphere of understanding,
acceptance, tolerance, and compassion. We are all in this life together.
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