Letter photos I amsterdam taken by Elsbeth Tijssen Museumplein, October 2016.
The photo in the Vondelpark, with which the series opens, is made by Elizabeth Berman.

Dress to Express

baby suit 2009-07-04   diaper

The diaper I wear is a two-layered rectangular piece of cloth fixed with four safety pins. The inside layer is cotton, the outside layer is thicker and gives the diaper more volume. Over it I wear the little pants that you can see. It feels like a diaper but cannot be used as a diaper, the plastic pants is missing. I always wear baby suits this way, outside as well as inside the house.

Photo's by Vicky Keulen june 2015

When I walk the street in summer days, my baby suit is visible for everyone. In wintertime I wear it too, but then I wear a long thick jacket over it, so then you see nothing.

My babysuit are clothes that I like to wear and is an expression in fashion of my sexual feelings. Once this babysuit was a fetish attribute but now, when I wear it outside, it is fashion.

From time to time people refer to Jerry Springer, where Adult babies have been in broadcast.

I donít use any drugs. I don't drink. I am not oversexed, being busy with sex all day. Besides, I am older now and the sexual drives are diminishing. They are not gone, just diminishing. I am straight, heterosexual that is.

Am I crazy, a kind of psychosis? That kind of things is always difficult to judge yourself. I don't feel being a baby. I feel being the adult I actually am. My life is stable. I have a nice home that is furnitured quite normal. A little sober, I guess, just as my life is, maybe. I have little contacts, my social life is rather poor than rich.

There definitely is a touch of autism in my life, but that doesnít hinder me to function normal. But as seen from myself, it is difficult to judge HOW autistic. I remember feeling quite uneasy when there are strangers accompanying the persons that I do feel good with, my mother, my brother Sham and sister Mira. That feeling was quite strong in the past, that strong that I now only can attribute it to autism. There is nothing else to attribute it to in my life.
Despite my autism, my social abilities are good. Therefore it is quite difficult too to judge from the outside how autistic I am actually.

It is difficult to find work and besides, I aged too much now, I am afraid. I did work a lot with children, I have affiliation to them and working with them goes pretty good, I really liked it. But since I wear baby clothes, I donít dare to seek for jobs with children anymore.

I like little girls, like in Alice in Wonderland, but they don't figure in my sexual fantasies or sexual feelings, just like babies don't. I like their world, their girl-things. Long ago I remember that I wanted to be a girl, or one better says: as a girl. And that DOES excite me sexually, just as does being like a baby. But the girl-fantasy was always weaker and disappeared from time to time.

My sexuality sometimes looks to me as being fragmented, as if it are separated islands floating in the air, without a solid surface to walk on.

I can work as a teacher in physics on secondary education level, but I have no degree, no qualification, little experience and well, the baby suit I wear doesnít really help with that.

I worked a lot as a cleaner. It is not really a special kind of job. Nowadays I volunteer in gardening at peoples houses. I wished I did that earlier, instead of the cleaning jobs.

There always was a little group that is a little frightened at the sight of an adult man wearing cute baby clothes. I don't hear that anymore, maybe the whole of Amsterdam became used to it, or because I succeed better to wear the suits in a good-looking fashion. Maybe the suspenders help that now hold up my fake diaper.

Most of my family and some of my friends still don't understand - not really - but they are less rejecting now than they used to be. But they still don't want me to be around when their own friends are present.
In the last summer day of 2016 when it was really hot at the beach, I walked there with my mother, shoes off, walking in the sand, in the water at the edge of the sea, in babysuit, without a jacket (too hot). That was really nice. It felt like coming home.

My mother had died 21 of August 2018. She did euthanasia at her own home with her children around her. She suffered of lung cancer that became quite apparent since half of February 2018. Her ashes are floating in the sea now, with all family gathered my sister Mira throed the urn from the red pier of the Scheveningen haven. It was a sea-urn made of salt that dissolves after a time.

In the year 2018 my sexual drive did diminish severely. To my amazement the result was that I had lesser pain. I didn't knew, didn't realize that that area caused so much pain. Now I can bear life a lot better.

Photo's made by Elsbeth Tijssen

Amsterdam Museumplein 2010

Almere 2011

I want to tell something more about my sexual feelings that underlie the baby suit fashion. It might be a little shocking, but I tell it just as it is, or was - the feeling's strength is diminishing. I get excited by feeling the poop and the pee in my cotton diaper, by feeling the soft food in my mouth while I eat like a baby, by being chatted at by a woman that I like just as they do with babies. This is mixed a little with hospital-like experiences. This experiences have taken its place INSTEAD OF a normal sexual live. The normal sexual approach doesnít appeal to me. It just isnít attractive to me.

In the years March 1988 up to August 1992 I had a girlfriend with whom I had a kind of NORMAL relation. We made kind of love, and after about a year I had orgasms with her. Well, I fell in love with her.
The experience was new to me. It was great. I realized the ground under my feet had just disappeared. If she was intending to misuse me in some ways there was nothing I could do about it, I could feel that. It was frightening. But she didnít, she never did.
She didnít fell in love with me either. After all, it was better like this, we didnít fit in to each other at all. But I had severe pain because of that for many years after the relationship has ended.

In the years May 1997 up to August 1999 I had found a girl younger than I was, that was willing to meet my desires on the baby-experience. Her name was “Anne”, however I am quite sure this wasnít her real name. Her name was more or less all I knew about her, and that she was from East Germany. She was really a nice girl. I really loved the experiences with her, she made me happy.

There had been a second woman that I felt good with, in the years September 2004 up to July 2008. That was a woman of my own age. It was well after the years with both women when I suddenly realized I had never fell in love with any of them AND that I hadnít missed it. I really liked them and I was very happy with them and yes, if one could do things over I would do it again, but I never fell in love. It is just not that kind of feeling. The falling-in-love act doesnít fit in with this. It is quite something different.


I spoke a number of those adult babies, as they are called. There are so much different kinds of them, boybabies that like boybabies like themselves, boybabies that like girlbabies, girlbabies that like girlbabies. Boybabies that like a father to look after them, boybabies that want to be nursed by a woman, and that's me too. There are who are only interested in the diaper and the feelings in it and wear normal clothes for the rest and are not interested in any roleplaying. Others want to be sissy girls. Some want to be hurt by the persons they love.

The ones I spoke do not remember any traumatic experience underlying their adult babyness, but I have. When I was 3 years old I was brought to the hospital and put in isolation for more than 3 months. I only could see my parents 1 hour a day behind glass. The only thing I maybe remember of that is a kind of silhouettes. After that I was kept in the hospital for another 6 months during which my parents were able to be at my bed one hour a day. But the regime was that of the hospital, my parents didn't have any power there.

I am born 26 June 1956. I wore diapers up to two weeks before I went to the hospital at the fourth of July 1959. I was just wearing normal clothes, but in the hospital I got the diapers on again. I remember feeling ashamed of that. In the years up to my 11th birthday I spent nearly 3 years in hospital, ending at the 21 of June 1967:
9 (12) 3 (28Ĺ) 2 (13) 6Ĺ (7) 5 (4) 9,
these are the months in hospital, between brackets ( ) are the months I was at home.

The first thing I remember about the need to feel baby things was at the age of 6. I was at the house of a friend of same age and we were at the balcony painting a self-made wooden sword blue. Then an excited older girl appeared, mentioning the baby was peeing in its diaper. A little later she came back again with a similar message. It gave me a very special feeling, I liked it very much. But it didn't grow out, the feelings sank away.

When I was 8 and in the hospital, I remember I tried to lower myself in the toilet bowl to get wet pants. I succeeded, but it didn't feel quite as I wanted it to be. Once again the feelings sank away.

When I was 13 and became sexual active, the feeling to want to wear a diaper (a cotton diaper with a plastic pant), awakened loud and clear and it stayed like that since.

Behind the glass for three months social contact must have been far below acceptable borders. The last 6 months of my first stay in the hospital I was with other children. The amount of social contact must have been way above what I could manage. I got medicine, corticosteroids, ledercort in those days. In later times I registered that prednison, the successor of ledercort, in high dose amplifies my feelings. If you are angry, you get more angry. If you are frustrated, you get more frustrated. It doesn't create feelings, when you have no fear it will not create fear - you cannot amplify something that isn't there. And I have an amount of autism. There seems to be a raised chance on sexual mis-attribution when autism is involved. Autism plus when I was three years old the lack of stimulus during more than three months followed by an overdose of stimuli during six months, amplified by the medication. And the navel cord was wound around my neck once at my birth, does that do something? So far for the analysis.

pacifier            soother

I still have the disease, called Nefrotic Syndrome, variety Ig-A Nefropathy or variety Minimal Change. One doctor (1993) thinks it is Ig-A. Another doctor (2013) thinks it is Minimal Change. There is a doctor (1997) who thinks I have them both.

But at this moment the disease is no longer cured with prednison. In 2003 was the 22th return of the disease but a old, nice Chinese-Indonesian person, mister Oei Oen Goan, did persuade me to try Chinese Herbs and Acupuncture and from 100 mg/dl protein albumen in the urine it returned to normal state, without prednisolon, and the disease stayed away for 10 years to come. Ten years without prednison.

In 2013 the disease came back, triggered by a severe flu with fever during one week, and was cured with a little prednison and Chinese Herbs and Acupuncture.

In 2014, my 24th return of the disease, it was cured with Chinese Herbs and Acupuncture without prednison. It returned within 72 days from (more than) 300 mg/dl albumen in the urine to normal state. Due to special circumstances it is clear now what herbs to use and how. E.g. the dried herbs must be cooked and the extract must be drunk. The powders have proven not to work. The acupuncture seems mainly supporting, it is the herbs that do the actual work.
Since then I don't use anything, no Chinese herbs, no prednison, nothing else. The disease stays away up until now.

December 2018

Marianne Hoed at Amsterdam is a tailor and she made this two baby suits.

Amsterdam 2010
Gerrit Rietveld Academie final expo 2015

Schiphol, September 2010

Natal, Rio Grande do Norte, Brazil, September and November 2010

letter by Frits Jonker letter by Frits Jonker
Amsterdam Museumplein December 2009
letter by Frits Jonker letter by Frits Jonker letter by Frits Jonker letter by Frits Jonker