My Birmingham life as a trans woman: I was the first trans teenager to appear on British television in 1980

Leila Sharpe, a trailblazing voice in the trans community, is bringing her untold story of life in Birmingham during the 20th century into the spotlight.

Now aged 63, Sharpe has lived through decades of societal evolution, recounting her life as the first trans teenager to appear on British television in 1980.

Sharpe’s story, alongside those of others who underwent sex reassignment surgery decades ago, provide an intimate understanding of the triumphs and struggles faced by trans individuals in an era when societal acceptance was far less prevalent.

The Supreme Court will soon deliver its verdict as to whether a male to female transsexual is a woman in the eyes of the law.

Leila Sharpe’s story:

“Unable to endure life any longer in the turbulent family home in Nottingham, I fled at 18 to start anew in Birmingham. I was a shy, naïve boy, but I knew I was different. Since the age of 4, I had related intensely to the opposite sex, longing for a resolution to my lonely twilight world.

Desperate for what was then called a sex-change operation, I began living full-time as a woman, changing my name to Leila.

But first, I needed hormone treatment to start the feminising process. To get that, I had to wait for an appointment with Dr. Randell at Charing Cross, which in 1979 felt like an eternity. It was a turbulent time in Britain, with Maggie Thatcher as the first woman premier, and for a transsexual like me, venturing out cross-dressed was fraught with danger. Without hormones, I risked being “clocked” and arrested under suspicion of immoral purposes.

Luckily, I passed most of the time. With a delicate face, a girly torso, and feminine behaviour, I made friends and navigated my way through a society that rarely understood people like me.

The first trans teenager on TV

In 1980, I appeared in a groundbreaking ATV documentary, which I’ve since been told made me the first trans teenager on UK television. At the time, I was just excited to be on the telly.

Still, after two years of waiting, no appointment came. Dejected and convinced I would never be free of the organ between my legs that I found so repulsive, I abandoned my female life. I tried living as a man—growing a moustache and suppressing my true self - but it was futile.

Bullied, mocked, and misunderstood, I felt utterly alien. I didn’t fit into anyone’s expectations.

The misery of the 1980s was all-consuming. Being transsexual is a medical nightmare; we are not “proud” in the way some transgender people might describe. It is a brutal condition, often accompanied by chronic loneliness and mental anguish. For me, that pain turned into hysterical rages that left my flat’s walls pockmarked by flying crockery and boot kicks.

A betrayal by so-called friends in 1992 brought me to the brink. I overdosed, but waking up with my teddy bear in my arms, I realised I had nothing left to lose. With my back against the wall, I fought hard to transition again, finally getting the hormones I had long been denied.

Hormones were a revelation, transforming my body with breast development and thicker, longer hair. Determined not to fail, I underwent electrolysis, learned to speak convincingly, and embraced my female identity. In 1995, I finally achieved what I had dreamed of: sex reassignment surgery.

There was a cost, of course. My parents disowned me, unable to reconcile with the person I had become.

Yet, I persevered. My life blossomed in ways I could never have imagined. I found acceptance in the sisterhood of the Latter Day Saints church, built friendships, and even began dating - though not without risks. Telling men the truth about myself was terrifying. Some reacted with anger or violence, though others accepted me for who I was.

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After 34 years in Birmingham, I returned to Nottinghamshire following my mother’s death in 2013. Looking back, I feel immense gratitude for my journey but also deep concern for the future. With the trans debate growing increasingly toxic, I fear for people like me if the Supreme Court rules our rights must be based on biological sex rather than legal recognition.

Our stories, captured in a new book, serve as a testimony to the resilience and humanity of transsexual people. We are only 8,000 in the UK, but our experiences matter. I hope readers will find compassion and understanding in our words, even as the world debates our very existence.

Discover our stories here.”