My name was Ken. I had just graduated from high school, and my parents were taking me on a trip to the state of Louisianna. Our first stop was the city of Baton Rouge. We arrived on March 3rd, just in time for the Mardi Gras celebration. I had heard about Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but I didn’t know that it was held in Baton Rouge as well. We got into town the day before the event, and we settled in at a plush hotel, about one mile from Spanish Town Road, where the Mardi Gras parade would be held. Being of Irish roots, I wondered what interest my parents had in a French celebration. Well, as my parents said, the connection between the Irish and France was a long-standing relationship built on shared history, culture, and politics.

That first night, Monday, we ate dinner at a French restaurant. The girl that waited on us was a beautiful black female named Aurélie. She introduced herself and then asked my name, which was a bit strange. I asked her, “Why did you ask my name?” She replied, “I knew your name was Ken, but I wanted to hear you say it.” I asked, “How on earth did you know my name?” She said, “The Lwa told me.” I asked, “Who are the Lwa?” My parents watched this conversation with intense interest. She replied, “They are spirits that our God, Bondyé, created.” I asked, “What religion do you practice?” Aurélie said, “Louisiana Vodou is the name of our religion.” I smiled and asked, “Do you poke pins in dolls?” “No, that is a bad misconception.”

Aurélie took our orders and left. My mother said to me, “You like her don’t you?” I replied, “Yeah, I do. She is a really nice girl.” Mom said, “You should ask her out on a date.” I blushed and said, “That would be rather presumptuous of me.” She said, “Not at all, my dear.” When Aurélie came back with our dinners, I asked her, “Aurélie, I know that we’ve only just met, but would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow morning?” She smiled and said, “I would love to, Ken.” I suggested a coffee shop, and we agreed on a time. That night I thought about what I would ask her. I wondered if this was love at first sight. I was actually quite smitten with her. Were there any feelings on her part for me? Then I remembered her knowing my name in advance.

I got her chai latte and my cappuccino and took them out to a table outside. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” “It’s my pleasure.” She reached into her purse and brought out a doll. It was a Ken doll with a Barbie face glued on it. His hair was red like mine. She had dressed him in a Barbie dress. Blonde hairs were glued to his head. I asked her, “What is this? I thought dolls were a misconception.” Aurélie smiled, “No, pins are the misconception. I want you to be able to understand the challenges that girls face, even like my meeting with you right now.” I asked, “How is this doll going to help me understand?” She smiled again, “You will soon know what this doll is for.” “What am I supposed to do with it? I can’t carry it around.”

We got a bag from the coffee shop, and I put the doll in it. We took a stroll together. “Will you go with me to the parade today?” “Don’t you have to work?” She said, “Not until after the parade.” “Sure, I would be glad to go with you to the festivities.” “I would really like that, Ken.” “So, tell me what this doll is all about.” She said, “I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t believe me. But if you really want to understand me and girls in general you will tell yourself as you go to sleep tonight, “I really want to know what it is like for Aurélie and girls in general.” ” I said, “It is really strange that the Ken doll has red hair like I do.” She said, “I bought the dolls before I met you, Ken.” I gave her a puzzled expression and said, “What do you mean, before you met me?”

Aurélie got me to Spanish Town Road well before the start time of noon. We had a great position from which to watch the floats, bands, and all the participants. She told me that we would see somewhere around 75 floats and 2,000-some participants. She described how the parade would last about two hours, and then there would be parties, live bands, and drinking at the bars and restaurants. She said to expect vibrant pink outfits instead of the traditional purple, green, and gold costumes. We watched the fantastic parade together, which included the all-female Krewe of Artemis and the pet-friendly Krewe of Mutts. Then she had to leave for work. I met my parents at the same French restaurant. Aurélie served us and we left at 11 pm.

I had a separate room from my parents. That night I put the doll under my pillow and went to sleep thinking that I wanted to understand Aurélie and girls in general. When I awoke the following morning, I was laying on my back, but there was blonde hair over my eyes. I sat up suddenly and felt a weight on my chest. I looked down and saw two B size breasts on my chest with large nipples and areolae. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My thighs were smooth and hairless. I stood up and held open my pink panties. “Panties!” I had a vagina in place of my male cock. I went to the full-length mirror and saw a beautiful teenage girl who looked like a perfect Barbie doll staring back at me. “Aurélie, what have you done to me?”

What was I going to say to my parents? But, I had memories of them calling me Barbie! I had memories of dating guys! I went to the closet. All my clothes were girls’ clothes! I went to the bathroom and found an assortment of makeup. I got dressed in a pink pullover, white slacks, and pink sandals with two-inch heels. I had pink nail polish on my nails, and I had pink blush and pink lipstick. What was this fixation with pink? It was 9 am. Dad and Mom should be up. I made sure that I had the key card to my room and went next door to see my parents. I knocked and Dad came to open the door. I entered and they both said, “Good morning, Barbie. How did you sleep?” I said, “Fine, thanks.” Oh my, my voice was soft and feminine. Good grief!

My parents confirmed that we were leaving at 2 pm for the airport. Our next stop was Los Angeles for the Irish Film Festival and then to New York for the Saint Patrick’s Day celebration. I told them that I needed to go see Aurélie before we left. I wasn’t sure what time she arrived at work, but I went to the restaurant in hopes of seeing her. On the way, several men called me “Barbie” and even “Barbie doll”. She was there. Her shift was from 10 am to 6 pm. I got her alone. “Aurélie, what have you done to me?” She smiled, “Barbie, now you are beginning to understand what it is like to be a girl.” I said, “Why was it so important for me to understand that? Change me back to Ken!” She said, “You were so sure that guys were superior to gals.”

“Is that the reason why you changed me into a girl?” “Yes, Barbie.” “Please, I think I get it. Change me back to being Ken.” “I don’t think you’ve gotten it yet. You need more time. And who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy being a girl so much that you’ll want to stay a girl.” She smiled. I said, “Aurélie, do you know that I’m in great danger?” “How so?” “All these men are calling me “Barbie” and “Barbie doll” with lust in their eyes.” “Oh, you’ll be alright. Just don’t go out alone at night. Take some precautions and you’ll stay safe. If you feel you need to, get some pepper spray to keep in your purse.” I replied, “Yeah, right!” “Hey, you don’t think that I don’t get hit on by the guys. This is part of being a girl. You stay cool and get back with me after a while.”

Late that afternoon, my parents and I flew to LA. We got into a hotel that evening. We were about two miles from the Laemmle Monica Film Center in Santa Monica. We would take an Uber or a Lyft to the Irish Film Festival. The next morning, we went to the film center. Over the course of a couple days, I enjoyed “Four Mothers”, “Room Taken”, and “A Sip of Irish”. There were eight feature films and 24 short films, much more than a person could take in. On the third night there, we had just got back from the festival. I spent some time with Mom and Dad, sipping some wine. Yeah, I know that I was underage, but my parents felt that a few sips wouldn’t hurt me. Then I retired to my room. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door.

I went to the door and said, “Who’s there?” I heard, “Room service.” Without thinking anything of it, I opened the door. A young muscular man pushed his way into the room, closed the door, grabbed me and clamped his hand over my mouth. “Not a sound, Barbie, or you won’t live to regret it.” He pushed me backwards onto the bed and proceeded to rape me. He was rough with me and left bruises on my arms and shoulders. He penetrated me, and his thrusts were hard. He told me to open my mouth, and he thrust his tongue in and kissed me savagely. He groped my breasts and squeezed them hard. When he got up off me, he tore my clothes off me, then raped me again. It probably was no more than ten minutes, but it seemed an eternity.

He left the room. I lay there and sobbed. I felt so defiled, denigrated, dirty. Shame was so complete. I felt like I would never live again. My world was shaken to the core. I had never experienced such violence and abuse. I wanted to die. This evil beast had taken away … everything … my self-respect, my virginity, my innocence, my hopes, my dreams, my love of life … everything. I continued to sob … but eventually I got up off the bed, put some clothes on, and went out into the corridor, to my parents’ room. I knocked and when Dad opened the door, I fell into his arms sobbing yet again. They saw the bruises on my arms and knew what had happened to me. They took me to the hospital, to emergency, and got me the treatment I needed.

Those were long torturous hours in the ER. As best I could, I explained to my parents and the female doctor what had happened to me. I saw the horror of it reflected in their faces. I had to explain everything over again when the lady police officer came to make a report. I described the man as best as I could. Then they took me to perform a D and C, dilation and curettage. They also gathered a sample of the man’s semen from my torn clothes, which my parents thought to bring. It would be weeks later, but law enforcement found the DNA of my assailant on a commercial genealogy database. My parents and I agreed that we would go through the ordeal of a public trial to see some measure of justice done. I wanted that justice.

My emotional pain continued for months, long after the bruises had disappeared. I saw a counselor for my PTSD and a psychiatrist for the anti-depressants. I felt the fragility of being a rape victim, but I wanted to be a victor and not a victim. I thought about what Aurélie had done to me, or rather what she had done for me. I finally got up the courage to call her about six months after the assault. I asked for her cell phone so that I could call her after work. “Hi, Aurélie. I want to tell you about the things that I have learned about being a girl. It is nothing like what I thought when I was a guy. There is more to being a girl, a woman, than can be put in an encyclopedia. These past few months my parents have helped me develop female friendships.”

“Aurélie, there is something that I need to tell you, which you are in no way responsible for. I was raped when I was in LA.” She said, “Oh no, Barbie. I am so sorry. I did not foresee this happening to you, or I would never have changed you into a girl. Do you want me to change you back into Ken?” I laughed and said, “Oh no! You’d think that having been raped, I would not want to be a girl anymore, but just the opposite is true. I want to be a girl, a woman, because this mix of hormones and feelings is something that defies any kind of description. I have learned that girls and women are the most complex and intelligent beings on this planet. I am never going back to being Ken.” Aurélie said, “I am so glad that you feel that way, Barbie.”

We stayed in touch over the next several months, up to the trial, which was almost a full year after I had been assaulted in the hotel room in LA. I won’t name him. He had the audacity to plead innocent to the charges of burglary (unauthorized entry), rape, sexual assault, and criminal sexual conduct. The trial only lasted two days and the jury found him guilty on all counts. The DNA match, my description of him prior to his apprehension, the fact that he had been fired from a job for sexual harassment, and that he and his witnesses to an alibi all perjured themselves, helped to convict him. It was a bit of an ordeal. I cried on the witness stand. That evil man was sentenced to 30 years without parole. It wasn’t enough in my estimation.

Aurélie was there for the trial which took place in Los Angeles. We went for a walk after the trial. A man passed us and said, “Hey, Barbie.” I shook my head. “Why did you use a Barbie doll?” Aurélie said, “It was the first thing that came to mind.” I said, “Well, I’m glad that you didn’t use a troll doll from the 1960s.” We both laughed. I said, “Aurélie, I think that I am a lesbian. There is no way that I would ever make love to a man.” She replied, “I’m thrilled to hear you say that. That is my sexual orientation as well. Why don’t you come live with me. I’ve got a second bedroom.” I said, “But I don’t even have a college degree. I couldn’t find a good paying job.” “Don’t worry about it.” We clasped hands and walked into the twilight together.