Early Adulthood/Trans Era (Ages 15-19)

Finally we reach the dreaded age fifteen.

An online friend at the time recommended me a website. I made a Tumblr account thinking, "I'll probably never use this, but let's try it anyway." Soon I was addicted, using it every day, and quickly becoming part of some of their many communities. I became well versed in "fandoms and shipping", triggers, sexualities, and gender. Not going into too much detail, I spent any second I could on the site-- fawning over fictional characters, talking to other users, reblogging practically everything, and learning about terms that originated on the site. I ended up ruining a relationship because I would always be so immersed in the Internet.

Fifteen is the age I started being influenced by Tumblr, in that I felt I was not respected when female pronouns were used on me. I made it very known to my mother who was only confused about my sudden remarks regarding the pronouns and I. Even though I tried to deal with it for her, it caused me much stress, just like many of the other aspects of being trans. I always dressed a neutral or masculine way, but I started to actively think of the way I dressed and made a point to do it more, perhaps out of rebellion to support Tumblr's causes. The year before that Halloween, I dressed in a masculine white dress shirt  with a tie and claimed to be a boy, because "it was something I was not." I was hiding the desire to wear masculine clothes without being questioned. I boasted to my friends that I would come to school "with no b***s," as I planned to use medical tape to bind my chest that day. Of course, I learned of the (unsafe) binding method from Tumblr. When the time came, I got too nervous to actually do it, and I'm happy no one brought it up to me again.

In the first questioning stage, I tried to convince myself that I was thinking of cost efficiency. Certain clothing stores and hair stylists in my neighborhood seemed to cater to the men's wallets, so I started wanting masculine clothes and haircuts. I also liked the style that certain men had and I would want to wear it for myself. Even though it was a valid reason, it was not good enough to claim I was transgender.

When I had first started to be open about my curiosity, I very briefly spoke about it to an open transgirl at my high school named Beanca. She was so excited when I brought up feeling confused about my gender. Before she came out, I once asked if she were gay or just a feminine guy; the concept of transgenderism seemed to be only fiction to me. I'm glad she didn’t seem offended and even laughed over it, but I hope she wasn’t hiding her hurt. We were never close to the point of talking on a regular basis, so I never asked her questions or advice. She turned out to be the only transperson I would meet in person to this day. I lost my opportunity and resorted to my best friend at the time" the internet.

Being on Tumblr made me very closed-minded and caused a lot of my anger. I had a sudden rise of interest in politics regarding social justice, and soon wanted to be a hero to others and myself" for anyone in need of social justice, and for defending my disconnection to my peers. I became closed-minded because I had an extreme bias against anything that offended anyone. As I tried to listen to the opposing side of politics, I thought it was too stupid for me to understand. I was a bit egotistical and hardly gave their opinions a chance; I passed it off as uneducated right off the bat (but to be fair, the ones I talked to did not give much reasoning.) As much as I shunned extremists on the Right-wing, I was one myself on the Left. I shunned artists, musicians, and standup comedians that weren't politically correct instead of just paying attention to their art. I limited my content intake and personal enjoyment for fear of strangers thinking I'm a bad person, or "white guilt" that Tumblr lashed out at every turn.

I was in a daze of empowerment over my newfound identity. I wanted to feel strong in a world that told me I couldn't be; thinking I was trans "a boy" gave me the power to feel confident in my own body. On the other hand, I felt like I couldn't have a powerful personality naturally because I was born a girl.

I used to like the "girl" personality trope in media from the early 2000s, which includes all boy groups and one girl. In case you don't know what that is, it includes the (usually three) boys having regular definable traits like being a jokester or smart while the girl has the "girl personality": voice of reason, one of the boys, and always winning the heart of either one or all of the guys from the group. As a child I used to like them solely because they were girls, as I could relate with their only identifiable trait. It was always the same, and it felt like representation done wrong. When I realized what the girl personality was, I didn't want to be that, but I ended up being that in high school. I was one of the boys and was proud of it; I thought it meant that I was thought of differently than the other girls. My guy friend group would objectify women and I thought I was put aside from that. Through my boyfriend who was a mutual friend with all of them, I learned years later that I wasn't. No one ever tried anything except one guy.

When I was fifteen, I got my first "boy haircut." I received a lot of attention from boys in high school who didn't notice me before. I found that strange, and had the funny thought that they were a little gay because of it. One boy in particular, Kimo, became persistent about coming onto me for a short while, which I found a bit too late because at the time I hadn't had a crush on him anymore; I definitely blamed it on my new hair. The sudden attention gave me a confidence boost that I needed in making sure I looked good as a boy, even though I know they still thought of me as a girl.

There was a boy in high school that I met with the same name as me. To tell us apart, everyone would call him Boy Ariel and myself Girl Ariel. We were both known for our genders, and I was not trans at that point yet, but I did not like it. Even when there was only one of us in the room, they would still use those nicknames towards other people and I found it unnecessary. Ariel and I took interest in each other, despite him being two years older than me in the same grade, him being too edgy for his own good, and just being a bad person in general, I found out later. But he was the bad boy which I used to have a thing for, and finally one liked me back, so I took the chance. He told me he was in a group that had lists of girls they had sex with, like a game. I found that kind of weird at that time, but I shrugged it off. He told me what I wanted to hear, that he wouldn't put me on it, but I realized too late that he expected to have sex with me. His entitlement lead him to consistently texting if I wanted to do it, which I rejected every time because I was not ready. This was all in under a month, and I got tired of it pretty quickly. I found out through his friends that he cheated on me with some girl named Aurora, and I jumped on the chance to break up with him. I thought that him resiliently asking to bone me and me rejecting wasn't good enough a reason, but now I see that respect matters so much in a relationship, and he had none for me; that was fine.

Trans is the third worst regret of my life, the others being consistently bullied in middle school which damaged me greatly and I couldn’t really control, and acting so harsh and cold to my best friend in high school because I did not romantically like him back and made our situation way harder than it had to be. I am not saying trans should be a regret for everyone, but because I was not actually it and believed I was for so long, it took me farther from finding myself when I thought it brought me closer.

I want to expand a little on my biggest regret regarding my best friend, Chris. At eleven years old, I'm guessing from the stress of middle school, I developed insomnia. I was not able to fall asleep for two to three, sometimes  five hours at a time, or even all night. To cope with this, I drew a lot during the night or played my GameBoy while trying not to get caught by my mother who would tell me to go to sleep and put me back to square one. But at fifteen, I used Tumblr a lot to help my boredom of not being able to fall asleep. At sixteen, I was in a relationship with Chris, but it was unrequited on my end. I fell into a deep depression, and again, used Tumblr to get away from reality for as long as I could. During my nights, I used Tumblr after I told him I was going to sleep. After at least an hour of trying, I would turn my laptop back on and browse Tumblr. He saw this and it worsened our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, but more so as best friends. And I don't deny it; it is all my fault.

To majorly summarize, he started liking me and wanted to ask me out, but I did not feel the same, I thought us being best friends would have to change, and at age 16 I already recognized my animosity towards my gender. I rejected him when he asked me out but I wanted to make him happy and was peer pressured into a relationship with him, so I asked him out and we started dating. Throughout our entire ten months together, I inadvertently treated him like s**t because of my depression about the relationship until I ended it. I caused him serious mental damage through the ten-month span and he was self-harming, unbeknownst to me. We ended up not speaking for an entire year before I wrote an apology letter to him, now accepting his opinion of me coming out. My being trans ultimately affected my honesty with him and ruined everything we had built up as best friends. The letter was full of incorrect terms that I cringe at now; I was still very uneducated even when I thought I knew all I needed to know at the moment. I would study Tumblr gender and sexuality definitions as an interest, but I still sounded uneducated or out-there… probably because it was Tumblr. He accepted my apology anyway, and it took a while to get back to how we used to be, but we succeeded. I still do not know a lot about gender, but now it is by choice rather than sheer ignorance.

Until my first gender change, I had a fear of eating in public. I was always very thin no matter how much I ate, but I thought I would be seen as gross or fat if I ate in front of people. Society had no fear saying that fat is gross and girls are not supposed to be gross. As a child who didn't know any better, I listened. When I thought I was trans, that fear suddenly dissipated. I wasn't afraid of being seen as gross anymore because boys were allowed to be that. Because I thought of myself as a boy I felt more confident, and in that small way it helped me grow as a person. I felt braver and strong, like I could physically defend myself if I had to. I think I might be able to now as a girl as well, but I'm so much less confident about it. I feel like my proud stance has lost its meaning, and I'll be underestimated or estimated exactly right. Another interesting thing is that when I identified as a boy, I took that biologically as well. I would want to eat as many calories as a male my age would, no matter if I looked "gross" or not (I probably didn't.) I strived to be the stereotypical male, but I could not because there is no set personality rulebook for each sex. On the outside, I did not have the attributes I thought I wanted. I have feminine hips, a weak jaw, and no facial hair except the probably hereditary thin mustache that I have, which I'm now sure is a normal thing for some girls to have. I bring up the "mustache" because I shaved it even when I identified as a boy, but it was also one of the excuses I had to make my being trans biological. I was a very conflicted case. I've watched porn and have compared my parts to the women's. Since I didn't know female (as well as male) genitals came in all shapes and sizes, I thought mine to be an unformed penis and testicles. I even had a thought once that I could be intersex because of my different-by-comparison vaginal area. It is very embarrassing to admit, but I tried anything I could to make myself think my chromosomes could be XY. In that way, my transness did more harm than good.

I felt I was a baby-faced boy, so I had feelings towards other baby-faced boys before and after my coming out. It all went along with age. So as I got older, I thought I could try for a more adult and masculine look for a little bit. It did not end up working out because it just did not look good, so I went back to my longer boy hair because it seemed to fit my face and it was a look that could let people perceive me as a boy; I was in denial about a lot of things. I now notice that other young transmales seem to feel the same way. Even if they are old enough for a different look, they stay with a younger appearance because it fits their feminine face, and it affects how people see them.

I was convinced my voice and face shape would out me every time, and it did. If you took a look at me you’d see a boyish girl, or an androgyne if you're generous. I had a pear-shaped physique but I tried to hide it with baggy clothes as much as possible. I would not have had much physical dysphoria if I did not care what gender people saw me as. But since I knew they saw me as female and I did not identify as that, it caused a lot of discomfort with myself and trying to change other's perceptions to no avail. In a way I'm thankful to the people who never saw me as anything but a girl because in the long run I didn’t have to come out to them again. They'll just see somewhat of a fashion change from me and that will be that. As for my family, I am still very hesitant to show any femininity because they are skeptical enough to think I faked five years of my life, perhaps for attention or some other silly reason.

I developed body dysphoria, a sudden need to hide my breasts and body shape when I accepted I was trans. Before I bought a chest binder, I would hunch over so hopefully my baggy shirt would not reveal my already small B-cups. Doing this for long enough resulted in me getting slight scoliosis and kyphosis, permanently damaging my spine and neck. It was never enough for me to wear a back brace but I still have to live with a crooked spine for the rest of my life. After gathering enough bravery, I started searching online for cheap chest binders and when I found one I wanted, I went to my mom, who at the time I had to go to for whatever I wanted to buy online, paying her back in cash of course. Trying not to reveal too much information from the company GC2B (quality binders I recommend), she saw the price and asked what it was. I told her a tank top, hoping she would fall for it. Very soon after, she realized what it was and called it a "$30 bra," and she used her specialty of making me feel guilty about getting it. Because you know, I'm only eighteen, I still can't think for myself and am not allowed to be happy. I wore that binder for a solid year and some extra before I realized I was cis. Making the change back to bras made me very self-conscious; I constantly felt like I was going to be judged by the people I recently came out as trans to.

When I was a month old, my mom got my ears pierced and I always wore them. They mostly were a small extra weight on my head but I always kept them in because I thought I was supposed to; I was a people-pleaser. I never had the idea to take them out even though it was my body, so removing them at age fifteen felt like a turning point.

I fought with the mirror every day because I thought I looked too feminine. I fought with the mirror more so than when I was cis, but I know that no matter what gender I was, I would have always taken more than an hour to finally be satisfied with my look for the day. I learned a very important thing about that eventually: You cannot fix certain small things about how you look. Something on you grew to be a certain way and try as you might; you may not be able to get rid of it. But people have already noticed it about you, and they do not care. They will not notice if you change the small thing you want about your look for one day, because it is insignificant to them and you are the only one worrying about it. I wish I learned that a lot sooner but later is better than never, and now I don't spend over an hour in front of the mirror before going out anymore.

Something that has always been on my mind, regardless of gender, is how good I look. I would constantly check my hair and make sure it looked "masculine enough" and in turn, what I deemed good enough for people to believe I was a cis guy. I learned that my hair was something I could alter until perfect, even if I couldn't for my face. If anything, I was a girly boy. I even welcomed the term "pretty boy" because it had the word boy in it, but abhorred the words pretty by itself and girl in the same sentence directed towards me. I was rejecting a compliment even though it confirmed I looked good because it was as something I did not want to be.

I looked up to people on YouTube like Kat Blaque and Jammidodger who made their transitions public. I did much research on what Jammidodger went through on his blog because I related to it more than I could with Kat Blaque. I thought it was so interesting but I was never really sure if I wanted top surgery for myself. I had thought of gender reassignment surgery early on, but it never sounded too appealing to me. I saw the procedure as giving me a fake, useless piece of protruding skin. I felt that I would regret the money and body I had lost. I would have preferred I have a real one on my body, but even that would have only given me temporary happiness until the placebo effect of finding myself wore off. In the end, I'm happy I did not do anything drastic to myself, besides having many bad haircuts. I have had countless bad cuts from either the local place I went or stylists giving me something too feminine or masculine (as I thought) to work with my face. Any "non-emo" hair style I got always looked too short for my face and was always bad for either a boy or a girl. I noticed bangs close to my eyes and hair closer to my jaw made me look more masculine because it somewhat hid my feminine features, so I tried to stick with those cuts for a while. When I found out a style worked, I tried to milk it for as long as I could; I noticed how much I look at hair rather than face for people in general. The hair in my face made me look masculine but sometimes was a problem by getting in the way of my sight, so I was happy when I ditched the haircut I had for about eight years. The same style for eight years is a long time, but I would have dealt with anything to not be seen as any feminine gender. But even when I was trans I still knew I had a female body, and would refer to myself that way. It was only my social identity that I tried to change, so I made sure to call myself a transmale rather than just a male. I knew biologically I could not call myself a male, but as a personality I could try.

 

My transgenderism became my life; it was all I thought about for five years. It brought on more stress, depression, and anxiety than when I was cis. Things that did not relate to gender at all suddenly had something to do with it, if I made the choice. Gender is not supposed to be on someone's mind much at all, minus perhaps seeing a person for the first time. I had quite a few obsessions growing up, but I did not expect it to get as political and unhealthy as social justice and transgenderism. One of the silliest examples would be my distaste for "his or her" being used in text and speech. I love writing and English, and knew of the simpler pronoun "they" which covers those three words into one. It's more of a nitpick about words than gender but I still tried to unnecessarily make myself think of gender more than the average person should.

 

I was constantly lectured by my mom on why I couldn't be a boy; solely because I have a vagina, but that wasn't enough for me. She never said I couldn't be a boy because anyone can do or think anything and have it not affect their gender, and I learned that too late. I listened to my online peers rather than my mom, but she is racist, homophobic, transphobic, and all the other "-phobics" in the book, so it felt justified. But I do admit it would have been smarter to at least consider what the older people think rather than the kids my age who know nothing. My insistence that I was a boy rather than a man didn't seem strange to me; I did not care about the term "boy's" connotation and took age out of the equation. I felt more like a boy and never had the opportunity to feel like a man even if it is what my age implied. Plus, "boy" along with "girl" is one of those cutesy Tumblr descriptive terms for one's self. "Man" and "woman" are never used as self-descriptors because a majority of the users are LGBT+ youth. It makes sense that I would use one online as well as in real life because I was so immersed in the website at the time. After coming out to my mom, one of the things she said was, "Come back when you're thirty and we'll talk." As much as I hate admitting a person like her was right, I was ten years too early. Surprisingly my mother never showed it, but I'm sure her thoughts of me as a person changed from confused and delusional to "I told you so." I thought my chosen gender would last forever, or at least if it changed again I would accept it because I chose it.

I listened to my mother cry in her bedroom about her frustration as she talked to her friends that also didn’t agree with me. Especially her best friend Debi, who has known me since I was a baby. She was always very nice to me and has called me Princess throughout my life but she can get very unkind towards ideas she does not understand. She never made it known to me that she knew about my gender identity, but I could only imagine what she said about me, and it makes me feel horrible.

I made vent drawings regarding being trans and even a poem where the protagonist (unnamed but subtly myself) overcame previous hardships because she later thought of herself as a boy. I felt I had to not be the helpless little girl anymore, so in my mind (and only there) I became the big strong man. When I was writing that poem, I felt that I could not leave my past behind because I had to become a hero. I must have felt that women couldn't be heroes, so I played into the whole "women are the weaker sex" idea without even knowing it.

I didn't come out as trans immediately. It was 2012, a changing society, even if I didn't notice it too much. The reason I didn't come out at the first thought was because I did a lot of thinking before I made my "final" decision. I didn't want to be a girl who made a mistake and wanted to change back, even if that's what it turned out to be in the long run. For a while I was so sure of myself, and that's what I wanted to be before I made the important decision of changing my gender, not to be taken lightly. So after much thinking and deciding that I was trans, I came out of the closet to myself. That was enough for me for a little bit, but eventually I wanted the world to know. I started coming out to Tumblr, where I met my boyfriend of the time Michael, and he was the first one I properly came out to. He asked what my gender was, only seeing a picture of me that I put on the site. I reluctantly said I was a girl, he positively pointed out how much I looked like a boy, and I ended up telling him I wanted to be one. I was still in the early stages so I was very nervous and embarrassed about really talking about it with anyone. My relationship with Michael turned out to be an unhealthy one, but I enjoyed the good parts a lot while they lasted. At various points, he would change his gender; I think to follow me because he looked up to me. He also changed his name and pronouns various times. He went by "she" once and even considered Hormone Replacement Therapy, but he must have realized that was a mistake because he changed back, just like I'm doing. He must have also been influenced by Tumblr and myself, but he was sooner to change back than I was and he realized it on his own, unlike me. I proudly called him my girlfriend when he claimed to be trans. I tried to ensure people that I would never see again that I was a straight, cis boy. I knew telling them that really didn't matter, and I really wanted a girlfriend, so I played pretend as much as I could get away with" I was the man in our relationship anyway. If people saw me as a girl which is most likely they did, my plan would have backfired completely because I would have been seen as a tomboy lesbian, which is not at all what I was going for. He claimed to be bisexual, but he seemed more on the gay side. He seemed accepting of my female parts, but I was constantly worrying if he really was okay with it. I was the "man" in the relationship and constantly took care of him but it felt fair because he tried to help a little when my depression would hit as well. He was my everything for almost three years, but started slipping out of love before I did. He would tell me of his crushes on other online guys, and even through that I still tried to stick with him until he finally put an end to it. I noticed his lack of acknowledgement and dislike towards me during the end, but I purposely did nothing about it to help, and only showed him more affection which did not turn out well. I try not to blame our end on my sex, but it was definitely a good part of it which made me hate it even more.

Having mentioned before that I was a very sheltered child, I have reason to believe I am a late bloomer. With my first sexual attraction at age seventeen, I have only wanted to have sex with two people in my entire life thus far, at different points in our relationships" I don't know what opened the door. I was asexual (in the sexuality sense) for all of my life up until then; there was some part of me that liked sex as a concept, but never for myself. Though, I was firstly a virgin who didn't want to ever be penetrated because I believed that it always hurt. I would rather have been the dominator, and men usually dominate, thus creating another reason leading me to believe I was trans. If I were to ever have any sex during that time, the thought of pegging seemed appealing. I was unaware of the sexual pleasure of being female and in love; eventually I traded asexual with demisexual. I was very insecure about oral sex for myself. The way men may lead in the bedroom, their claims lead sexual stereotypes of women as well. Because of that, I believed that vaginas always smelled like fish" dirty. Not because of anything I personally experienced, but the jokes are rampant among school premises. I was very nervous and reluctant about letting my boyfriend perform oral on me, even if I wanted it. I learned of Tumblr's infinite sexualities and romanticisms, along with genders, and learned of panromanticism which I also claimed myself to be. A simple explanation is an attraction to any person regardless of gender, but not for sexual attraction, hence the romance. For demisexual, it is basically the same as asexual but a sexual attraction is born after a strong intimate bond has been made. I considered myself these specific labels for a long while, changing them as I saw fit. Changing sexuality is a lot more accepted than changing gender; something that lives in the mind cannot be challenged on its fluidity. Yet some people believe gender also lives in the mind, rather than their biological sex showing the determined answer.

As a sophomore in college, confident in my social justice skills, I wrote an essay on feminism for my English class. At the time I did not realize that what I was writing was White Feminism, because I was still very uneducated in many subjects that I wanted to excel in. I got an A on the paper, and maybe it was for my writing skills, but if it was for my essay, then I did not deserve it. I feel that in my liberal professor's grading, there was a bit of guilt that he felt as a man. I believe if certain men's feelings towards feminism are not negative, it may be a need to please women for having the guilt of being a man in a patriarchal society. I think that is exactly what was happening with my professor, so it is tough to know if any woman's essay on feminism or similar is deserving of an A from men like these.

There are a few songs I feel I should mention because they struck special interest to me during this time. Your Woman by White Town has an iconic lyric such as, "I could never be your woman," sung with a clearly male voice. I was interested and hoped in seeing if the artist was trans himself for trans visibility, as this was on the radio and it may have meant acceptance for a trans artist and eventually transgenderism as a whole. In the end, White Town was a cisgender man, playing the role of a woman because it is what he wanted to do in his art. I should have just accepted the piece as art, as it should have been. The songs Where The Hood At by DMX and Dude (Looks Like a Lady) by Aerosmith are prime examples of songs I wanted to dislike because of gender. The track by DMX is very mean-spirited, but I will admit it has a good rhythm. On the other hand, I used to hate the track by Aerosmith because I just didn't like the dad rock genre... but it was worse to me because it had anything related to trans, and I had not researched the song because of my offense. In reality, the lyrics tell a story about how someone's transgenderism did not stop someone from being with them, but upon first glance I did not know and just took it as a song of hate. It shows another way I was closed-minded: I had decided to avoid anything challenging transness at all in order to stay in my safe space. Since then, a much needed backbone was grown.

In 2015 I went to counseling therapy for depression, social anxiety, excessive worrying" diagnosed by her, not exactly Generalized Anxiety Disorder" school and familial issues, and especially dealing with my transgenderism. I had a wonderful young therapist named Angela who felt like the mother I never had, even though she was just ten years older than me. While my grandmother also felt like a proper mother figure, I could not speak to her about personal problems because of her era; for example, I once told her I had a stomach ache and she said it was all in my mind. I knew I was mentally ill but I tried to make it more than I already was. I once briefly thought I could be autistic solely based on the fact that I still had a special interest in cartoons and anime art at the age of eighteen, and that it was "hard for me to make friends." I looked for labels to put on myself and relate to something, that something being Tumblr because it was the closest I could get to feel like I fit in somewhere. I still remember the call from when I made my first therapy appointment, and the pause from the receptionist after I asked if they were trans-friendly. Angela listened to everything I had to say; I told her everything and I so badly needed that safe space at that time. Feelings have always been so important to me; and though she was all I had, my mother was brutish and was never a good emotional outlet. My trust for Angela was so deep and I had no fear telling her anything. Upon giving my sob story of a life to her, she spoke a lot of my "authentic self" and my desire to find it. That I strove to achieve being the real boy instead of Pinocchio, and be true to myself. When I thought I found myself, she had nothing but support and ignorance over my decision. She was just the enabler I needed, except I was a bit annoyed yet eager to explain the internet's genders and sexualities to my real-world therapist. I wanted to spread the word of these new societal theories like fact, in an attempt to normalize them. She seemed a little unconvinced, but she tried to understand for my sake, and I appreciate her for that.

Briefly and sporadically, I acquired an unwanted influence from my stepfather who was often outwardly misogynistic, racist, and everything else. I would call women "b***h" in my head as a replacement for the words woman, girl, etcetera. I can only guess I was harboring internal misogyny over my whole trans movement. I, of course, told my therapist, to which I felt immense shame over and immediately tried to put an end to.

When I only had feminine clothing, I did not have many clothes to choose from. I did a mental purge, then an eventual physical one. I wore what I deemed to be unisex or masculine enough; very loose and bland clothing that didn't show my form. Maybe I mentally grew out of my old clothes, but I wore less than ten different shirts and two pairs of jeans for four years. I was always too scared of the rejection of my clothing choice by my mother to buy new clothes and I could not buy it myself because I had no spending money. When I finally did gather enough courage to go with her, it was a relief because I finally didn't have to sweat in the summer anymore. Unfortunately, I ended up only wearing them for a few months before I changed my mind about my gender again. I bought a pair of swim trunks that I never ended up wearing, and planned to wear it with a tank top at the beach. I didn't end up going, but how fun would it have been if I spent the whole time worrying about my binder and not taking my shirt off anyway? Christmas that year, I got a $100 gift card and I spent it on more unisex clothing. I don't regret it as the items I bought did spruce up my wardrobe, but my clothing style changed again so I find myself wearing those less likely than I would if I were still as androgynous as I used to be. Similar to this, I wanted to get my city and state IDs as soon as I turned eighteen, but just a few months later I feverishly wanted to change the unfeminine pictures that were taken after I was so happy to get them.

I would twist my binder straps under my shirts to hide them because they were thicker than a regular bra. Sometimes it resulted in unnatural bumps on my neck/shoulder area under the shirt which I'm sure people noticed. Sometimes people would even see the straps under if they came undone and I worried I couldn't claim it a tank top because the material was different from the usual. No one ever said anything, but it still caused a lot of worry over people seeing me as a girl trying to be a boy.

Summers were horrid. I refused to wear more revealing clothes or get a haircut, so I suffered with the sweat. I hated getting haircuts more than the average person because my local hairstylists usually did a bad job on me (or in general.) I was young so I could not spend more on a proper haircut. I would wait around six months or more to finally relieve me of my long boy hair. Being trans made me very unnecessarily fearful, but I feel even if I weren't trans during this time, I would have been fearful anyway because I cared so much about people thinking I'm attractive. During the fourth year, I finally got the courage to ask my mom to buy me masculine shorts. I wore them a lot and it was great for a bit" but then my gender slowly started to change again. Again I was impressed, but I would not have become cis again on my own. During the first summer of my readmission as a girl, I started to feel comfortable wearing shorter, feminine shorts and skirts. I also stopped getting haircuts so frequently and decided to let my hair grow out, so I was able to make it into a ponytail. By this point, I have not had long hair for about a decade so it was definitely a new feeling, but it's a process.

Along with clothes, I had an affinity for Axe Body Spray because I thought smelling like a male would help people along in deciphering my gender. I used it any chance I got that didn't make me look like I was looking for attention, and had no idea if it actually worked.

I had a dream once about a "dress party." In the dream, everyone who attended no matter the gender wore a dress, including me. In reality I do not think I had any desire to wear a dress, but it may have been repressed without me knowing. Now as I'm letting my femininity out, I sometimes do want to wear dresses and skirts, but still find myself going back to my androgynous clothing style.

An androgynous haircut that I kept for a while was somewhat on the longer side and can be considered an emo style. I was too old for it at sixteen through eighteen and it looked like my phase went on too long, but I knew I pulled it off appearance-wise. I soon realized no girl my age would want someone who looked like me because even then I looked too feminine or young, but I was still silently hopeful. Going back to my earlier paragraph, I was twelve when I realized I was bisexual. All the girls my age that I knew and liked were heterosexual, so that must have played into my feelings as well. I must have subconsciously thought, "I want a girlfriend, but they want a boyfriend. Maybe if I were a boy, they would want to go out with me." Even then I ended up only having boyfriends, even during my transition. Alternatively, I always thought girls who wore boy clothes were cute, so I aspired to be like them as well at first. But I never attempted to go out with one because I felt like they were too cool for me, or I thought they were straight. There was no winning.

I love my grandparents more than anyone in my family, but they both were hostile towards my gender identity at least one point during the transition and I still can't seem to fully forgive them. During the 2016 presidential campaign, my grandparents and I frequently had civil debates over social issues coming up at the time, mostly about Donald Trump's presidency and things like the infamous Wall. At this point, I still voiced my opinions and had not learned to keep my mouth shut yet. My grandmother and I were going at it, when my grandfather came in to say, "Calm down, ladies," putting emphasis on the last word, sounding almost superior and amused. I did get quiet, but I wouldn't say I calmed down since my disbelief brought me back to my depression. At another time, we were talking about my uncle's upcoming wedding, and I was allowed to wear a pantsuit. They eventually accepted that I preferred to wear less revealing clothing like dresses and allowed me to wear women's pantsuits to the few fancy family get-togethers we had during the time. In the car with my mom and grandma, they were talking about something like all the men had to wear a tie. For some stupid reason, I piped up and said, "I'm not wearing one," because I wasn't allowed that privilege, I didn't add. Grandma suddenly snapped at me and yelled, "You're a girl," and it was just so sudden coming from her because she never yells unless she's genuinely angry, and at me no less, who she never showed anything but affection to. Hearing that from her ruined the rest of my day, but it wasn't enough to convince me.

I attended the bridal shower before my uncle's wedding. It was held in a bar so it was bad enough already because any time I am around alcohol I am reminded of my alcoholic father. But throughout the entire thing, my uncles would make constant "woman party" comments, saying they shouldn't be there because they were the only men. It got old fast, but needless to say I was completely miserable through the whole thing. On top of that, there was an instance of another insensitive joke that I'm sure was directed towards me. A waiter, just doing his job, came to our table to take their orders and my single uncle was sitting next to me. After the waiter left, he said to me, "What, did he think I'm transgender?" and laughed, expecting me to as well. Despite him looking nothing like a transwoman, he had the gall to say that to someone who was clearly trans, gay, or something even if no one wanted to admit it. I was able to leave a little early by claiming a stomach ache and I walked myself home after my uncles had left, and I had to endure them spotting me walking home alone and asking why I was there instead of the shower. When I got home, I ended up venting to my stepfather who surprisingly accommodated my words as best he could. He had never done that before, but to be fair we had never spoken too much beyond short replies or speaking between my mom. From that pleasant moment we had, I can tell he has at least an ounce of compassion in him; for me at least, sadly not other minorities.

At my uncle's wedding there was a photo booth, and I took a couple with my parents and one with my grandmother and cousin. My grandmother looks so uncomfortable and in a way disappointed because of her "grandsons," but truly only one in particular. She looked so beautiful, and it hurts because all I have to remember her on this day is a picture of her noticeably faking a smile because of me.

At one point when I was nineteen I seemed interested in bow accessories. I asked my then-girlfriend that when she transitioned and bought some for herself, if I could sometimes wear them as well; I was met with no answer. Again, near the end of my transition, I was on the train and saw a woman to which I had the thought, "If I were a girl, I'd want to look like that." She was just going about her day; plain-looking but very pretty in my eyes. I'm not sure what triggered the thought. Alternatively, before and after my de-transition, sometimes I would suddenly get thoughts like "I wish I were like them," to men. I can only assume they were leftover thoughts that had yet to leave completely, but I still felt anxious about myself because of it. Did I mean successful or handsome? Did I want to look like an adult? I am one of those people that look a few years younger than their age, so sometimes I am still perceived that way. Or did I just mean I wanted to look like or be someone else, or have no static image at all? There may have been some lingering feelings of that from my constant internet days, but I cannot say.

After lacking physical companionship in college for around a year, I met a couple people who thought I was a cis boy. After a couple weeks of knowing Kat and JP, I accidentally introduced them to my friend Sophie who I met in a previous college friend group that broke up. Changing the subject for a moment, I thought my style of humor to be masculine, but Sophie's humor is probably worse. I won't delve into it, but my humor often would not match with the other girls' in school. I know it's a stupid reason to feel trans, but it is one of the many that lead it to be that case. Anyway, I identified as something else but I was completely hiding it while I was in that group with Sophie, so when I met her again after not talking for a year I was nervous to say the least. The last time we hung out, she made a comment that misunderstood trans people so I felt even more uneasy coming out to her. I wanted to come out to my new group in case they were to figure out I was female through some force other than me; I didn't want them to feel lied to. After introducing them to Sophie, I came out to all three of my friends as trans. Kat, JP, and Sophie only encouraged me and I can't thank them enough for giving me support and friendship when I physically needed it. I had Michael from Tumblr who was my main support system but he was definitely not enough. I also had Chris but we were only able to talk through Skype at the time and I was still unsure about his positivity towards learning about my new gender identity. Kat, JP, and Sophie were actually with me and it was amazing to find out there could be people in the real world who supported the cause. When we were all best friends, I caught wind of an LGBTQ club at our college. I decided to join for the semester with Kat who did too, then JP who usually seemed disinterested in that sort of community, and then Sophie who was a questioning ally. We tried to meet new people to expand our group, but the new ones' friendships were only seasonal. With Angela as my therapist, a new friend group I was completely comfortable with, and now "Gay Club" on top of that, my emotional support carried over into real life and things felt great. But the open hatred from my mother and stepfather in the house and on the street was still rampant, and continued to leave me feel and act perpetually sour.

I used to count the times people used my correct pronouns without me having to tell them, it made me that happy. There was also a couple times people used they pronouns on me; I was so appreciative of them because they actually seemed to know of the pronoun instead of the binary he or she, and I felt it was so important. Despite not knowing me more than an acquaintance, I felt they actually cared about not putting me on either side and kept it as neutral as possible. I even tried near the end of my phase: soon after we started going out, I tried to make my straight boyfriend use male pronouns on me which, needless to say, he was uncomfortable with.

My boyfriend's young cousin once made a sexist comment that I couldn't do something because I'm a girl and I felt a competitive primal need to prove him wrong. I want to compare it to a memory when I was in elementary school that has since stuck with me: I was an expressive child and I would move my eyebrows in response to what I felt was appropriate. A boy I knew told me, "Girls aren't supposed to do that," I found it odd and wondered why he cared. I did not feel a need to prove him wrong and I just continued on living, but I must also argue that I didn't feel a need to because I did not know of the stigma against women as a child. As an adult I must have wanted to prove him wrong so that he does not grow up contributing to the regression of equality.

There was such embarrassment coming out to everyone the first time. But there was even more embarrassment "coming out" again as cis because it shows I was wrong. A segment of my apology to Chris is important because it showed exactly how uneducated I was on the topic:

"Before Tumblr, I never knew about gender and sexual identities like I do now. It has exposed a whole other world to me and now I feel like I belong because I know that what I am is not unheard of. Basically that "So there's a name for it!" feeling. I identify as a genderless panromantic, and I know this might be really hard or weird for you to hear because it's so uncommon in today's society. For my gender, or lack thereof, I feel like I am genderless because for a long time I have not felt like just a girl. I look in the mirror at my nude body, see my parts and go, "Wow, I really don't think that belongs there." But then I think, "Hey, what about a flat chest, penis and testicles?" and that's not completely right either. I know I would feel completely content if I had no primary or secondary sexual characteristics at all. I just want to be me, not a boy, not a girl, not anything. "But what about you preferring male pronouns?" I prefer male and neutral pronouns, but I think I'm more comfortable with neutral. I feel more like a boy than a girl for a variety of reasons, but I will not go into that because this email is long enough already."

After a dedicated two years of trying to figure myself out, I recognized these as my feelings. I blamed it all on gender rather than recognizing it as feelings of not wanting to embody a person. I subconsciously felt that my society was one where the outside of a person is more important than the inside. Of course, gender did have to do with it because I did not like the way I was treated, but I now realize that I am still a woman whether it happens or not. 

Reviews

[Carol Cashes]

Child, I had to look up half the terms you used in this installment. And Tumblr sounds like something Satan invented to create chaos, hate and discontent. Shitfire! I'm still hazy on some of the details, and I will have to re-read this, but I'm surprised you can form sentences and speak at all! Jeezus! Okay...I get the rejection of all opinions not matching your own, and even "labeling" them as evil or wrong-headed. And, there was a period of time after menopause (April 2004 was my last period) when I would have jumped on the asexual bandwagon. Don't point that thing at me, buddy. Uh-uh! I've recovered most of freaky self since then, but only in the last couple of years. And I totally understand that having a "name" for what's wrong/right with you has power. I have dysthymia, which means I'm a highly functioning depressive. Most of my friends and family, including my husband, tend to forget the "depressive" part and rely solely on that "highly functioning". I've learned how to get them through my depressive states, but I still have to perform:
go to work, my husband is a disabled Vet, not crippled but has a lot of health issues and the VA is like the other Game of Thrones. My mother is dying of lung cancer so there's that.
I have a lot of responsibilities, that cannot be denied or ignored. Okay, I fake a "sick" day occasionally just to stay in the bed and rest my head. But I've known people with mental disorders that cling to their syndromes like badges, and really don't want to be helped or "cured" or they may be nothing at all. I think that outside influences: starting with your mother, moving on to your peers, then Tumblr, then mixing it up with straight up fucked up people has not been good for you...at. all. I'm encouraged by your complete honesty in writing about your journey. This is good for you and educational to others who may be struggling as well. Your story will confirm their trans identity or release them from a mis-identity. I gotta take a break. I live in Biloxi, MS and we're just waiting for Nate to get here....so I got some things to get done while I still have power. But I definitely will resume this journey with you. Whew!

[Macciola]

Heheheh, I'm sure if the Tumblr community heard you say that you'd be under fire... Honestly I wrote this over the span of a few months so I've had a little time to take a few breaks here and there!
Aw I'm sorry to hear all that. I can imagine how people relying only on the high-functioning parts of your depression can feel. You're going through a lot, and I applaud you for making it through all that!
I feel the exact same, that some people don't want to be helped and exactly as you said, wear their syndrome like a badge. I have felt major depression before too, and it is definitely not fun, so either the person in question WANTS to be pitied or is faking for attention. That's what I think anyway.
Thank you so much, I hoped in sharing my experience that it would help others as well, and that is appreciated by my readers