![]() ![]() I took a group photo with my supportive roommates the morning of my first doctor’s appointment, having told only them about my plan to undergo this newfound transition. Reading about this ebb and flow of low-dosage testosterone over the course of years led me to discover what I’d known all along: I was gender non-conforming-something I was only able to see when I learned testosterone could be a tool for embodying that. The author detailed their transition, which involved microdosing hormones. I spent the first three months of 2014 feverishly reading a blog by someone named Micah who called themself “non-binary.” It was the first time I’d heard that word. I didn’t find a more fitting one until four years later, when I was 21. “I just wish there were other words for that role.” It was the only answer I had. “Do you want to be a husband someday, versus a wife?” my therapist asked. I spent my therapy sessions describing this haze while maintaining a cool exterior to show that I wasn’t upset by questions that locked me into “male” and “female.” ![]() Looking at images of trans men was both comforting and not-a haze of uncertainty. I was terrified of a full medical transition. My mom and I went to therapy together to unpack my desire to be a boy. What I had seen of transness at that time was still based on being either boy or girl, and embracing that felt like the only way to become legible to those around me, although I felt subconsciously that neither was right. I tried to explain how, when I imagined my ideal self, I was masculine and handsome. Instead, I blurted out the words “I’m trans,” and my mother’s face was overcome with shock as I sobbed. I felt the same pang of anxiety as I did that first time-I had the overwhelming urge to skip the conversation altogether. This was the second time I had come out, the first being when I told my mom I was gay after she caught me cuddling my first girlfriend on my bed. When my Spanish teacher assigned nicknames, I asked for one without an “a” or an “o” at the end.Īfter years of these kinds of tweaks to my presentation and self-representation, I came out to my mom as trans when I was a junior in high school. Usually, my classmates were confused, which I secretly loved. In middle school, I made up a masculine middle name-my original was Marie, but I said it was Michael-and when I introduced myself to other students, I always made sure to include it. My understanding of being a mixture of boy and girl only grew from there. ![]()
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