I am a trans man.
If you’re reading that, hi, welcome to the very first time I’ve (somewhat) said that out loud. I still can’t say it actually out loud, because baby steps. But every time I try to somehow get away with not saying it, there’s this little piece of me in my head giving me the “Catholic side-eye”. So, honestly, I just end up snapping my jaw shut and try to communicate it through a look.
Anyway, clearly, this is new(ish). And as one of my friends said: It’s a new chapter in my life. And I’m a writer, so…
I figured I’d blog all of this “new me” shit of my life for several reasons. One, for the testament. Two, for my own mental health. Three, because I don’t want to do this alone. And four, because I don’t want anyone else to do this alone either. In the last few months, I’ve done so much Googling, YouTubing, Tumblring, and the like on trans-Things™, and people being open and honest about their stories have been unbelievably helpful for me in countless ways.
Truly, I appreciate them so much, and I will be adding links and things to some of my faves for people to check out. (You know because this is clearly going to be so popular..)
So, here’s my story.
Growing up, I was not one of the women.
The best I can describe my parents views on many issues is that they usually have one-foot on the liberal side, and one-foot conservative. My family, mostly, were absolutely Conservative Christians. (‘Course, a few were Free Love Liberals.) It was a little bit of a thing growing up, then, that I wasn’t one of the women. During family gatherings and holidays, the women in my family would constantly interrupt whatever I was doing to tell me to, “Go help Nanny in the kitchen,” and, “Why don’t you help Auntie set the table,” or just simply, “Come along, dear, let’s leave the men/boys to do their thing. We don’t want to get in their way.”
And I was always just standing there like, “But bro, Dad was about to teach me how to grill burgers.”
Now, my mother, who was mostly the one-foot liberal of the pair, wasn’t going to have that. Actually, I’ve been finding my mother… has a lot to do with my story, in both very good and somewhat ‘that could have gone better’ ways. But at any rate, my mother wasn’t going to have me shut down.
I was a shy, quiet kid, and Mom recognized a lot of herself in that. She absolutely refused for me to turn into the doormat she was forced to be, just because my personality didn’t demand attention like so many other family members. She also wasn’t going to have me forced into a gender role that clearly made me unhappy and uncomfortable. (That’s not to say that anyone consciously considered there may be a different gender role better suited for me – I was to be a strong, independent woman instead.)
So, my parents would tell those family members to leave me be, I was happy where I was, and even though most of them didn’t agree with it (ooh, what they would say now about it), they went along because I wasn’t their kid to raise, after all.
As such, I became the tomboy. Naturally. I was the one who went out fishing with the guys, roofing with the men, onto construction sites and into auto garages, the happy, bouncing little girl skipping behind her daddy. The men in my family adopted me as the “gal with the guys”. But after my parents’ divorce, all of that abruptly changed. I was off to live with my mom, and that left only two male family members (there was drama and like a seven-year gap where I didn’t see my dad’s side, yada yada), and though they loved me and tried to invite me along when they could, those good days were over.
Which was really crappy timing because that was when I started puberty. Cue what I had no idea was dysphoria.
I was unhappy with how my body was changing, unhappy with my life in general, and was going through a few extra things on top of my normal teenage angst. But, I suppose because of the large Conservative Christian family, I never considered something like “maybe I’m trans” to be anywhere near an option for me. (And I also recognize it wasn’t the only thing going on.)
Now, that’s not to say that if you’re at that age and it’s GIANTLY OBVIOUS that gender is the issue, that something else is wrong or anything. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. It also doesn’t invalidate my own story either. Because I learned and found ways to become comfortable. I excused away my unhappiness with my body with the classic Teen Girl issues of, “Oh, I’m just too fat,” and, “All the other girls are just so much prettier.” Anyone I talked to about my body issues and general unhappiness with myself would tell me something along the lines of:
“You should go shopping. Buy some new bras and panties. Nothing makes you feel more like a woman.”
“Get some new makeup. Or borrow my lipstick. You would look so pretty in that color.”
“Maybe get some high-heels. You don’t have any high-heels, and I know when I wear mine, I immediately love my legs again.”
“You should give yourself a spa day. Wax your legs, wear a mask, do your nails.”
“Why don’t you get your hair done? You would look so beautiful with bangs!”
Of course, I got those when I didn’t get a lecture on how any girl would kill for my figure, that perfect hourglass figure every girl wants, or my eyes, or my hair, or my lips, or blah, blah, blah. Which was also always accompanied about how all girls are unhappy with their bodies, that it’s perfectly normal, that I just have to learn to love myself like everyone else did.
Oof, I believe is the correct current slang. Just oof.
But, I learned how to be artistic with my nails and enjoyed it. I learned to self-express with my emo hair, and wasn’t that fun? And it also helped a bit when me, someone who is stupidly attracted to guys, would get attention for my body. (I’m not going to get into how any physical act with them was immensely uncomfortable for several reasons on my part.) (Also, of course, I was always being complimented by them by how chill I was for a girl, how down to earth, how it was so cool a girl could be like “one of the guys”. I had so many guy friends, omg.)
I told myself it was like that with everyone and learned to move on.
Meanwhile, I had my first major depressive episode spanning over a couple of years as a teenager and was extremely suicidal. It got a little better when I graduated and began at a local university because I was s t a r t i n g m y l i f e. But then, during college, I had another major depressive episode spanning over a couple of years and was extremely suicidal. It got better again around that graduation because – for real this time – I was s t a r t i n g m y l i f e. But then I got really depressed because I couldn’t find work, got a little better when I did find work, then went straight into yet another major depressive episode spanning several years during which I had varying degrees of being suicidal.
So yeah, phew, glad I learned to move on.
(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞
College was great for me, though, because – though I already had the starter-pack for liberal and activist thinking – it educated me on a lot of things I was taught to sweep under the God-Said-No rug. It did what higher education is supposed to do and allowed a safe place for me to take a look at the world, from all sides, and see how I, starring me myself, felt about it all. That education, too, didn’t stop with graduation.
That education hasn’t stopped at all, actually, and I hope it never does. Even when I’m old, I don’t want it ever to be said I am not willing to learn, grow, and develop as a person and fucking human being.
The depression, of course, was distracting, but the majority of my friends are actually in the LGBT+ community, so it wasn’t a reach for me to listen, despite considering (let’s be honest, assuming) I was a cishet.
Still, it was a couple or so years after college that I even learned what aromanticism is. And boy oh boy, let me tell you, that was a giant light bulb. ‘Course, recent developments pull that back under consideration, but that’s been firmly tabbed as “revisit at a later date”. For mental health reasons – and because I’m not going to put myself into exploring being a gay man until I feel safe to do so.
At any rate, it made sense to me – for me. I only ever tried to have a real romantic relationship once in my life, and no, that didn’t go or end well. (And what a coincidence, it also happens to be the only time in my life I actively tried really hard to be the most feminine I could be.) The other times I came close to romantic relationships, it just didn’t feel right. It felt wrong, I was constantly uncomfortable and telling myself to get over it, and it never worked out. And spoiler alert, I never really wanted them to work out.
It was such a breath of fresh air learning about aromanticism, and though there was some anxiety and fear about coming out, mostly because of how I was treated in the past for my failed “romantic attempts” and some hateful things I had been reading online, it wasn’t something I was going to ignore. So, I came out to everyone in my life (uh… outside of work).
For people like my friends, they were happy for me, understood, and even informed me that aro’s have a flag. A damn awesome one at that.
For some family members, they were confused, but were mostly, “You know… I kind of see that.”
Other family members who probably would have a problem with it I already didn’t talk to much anymore.
And I do want to take a moment to speak about how it was for both parents, particularly considering the changes now in my identity, and the changes to come.
For my mother, she listened, was confused, wasn’t sure where to put it, but ultimately was like, “You are my daughter; I love you; if you say you’re this, I still love you.”
(That’s always been a thing with my mom because she is a wonderful person. She always made it very clear to me and my sister that she will always love us no matter what. She’s literally told us that if we kill someone and become a stone-cold murderer, she will love us. She won’t help us get out of prison or anything, but she will visit every damn week.)
It was a great and touching moment for me one day when I came a-walking into her kitchen, and she in greeting looked me dead in the eye and said, “I think Sherlock Holmes was aromantic.”
She had done research and everything, and now my mom can school you an aromanticism. (She also has a list of characters she believes as aro, the evidence for it, and no, you won’t change her mind. Also, Captain Jack Sparrow, totally aro.)
For my dad, I knew he wasn’t like that. Y’know, the one-foot conservative of their pairing. I knew if I tried to sit down and explain the Thing™ of it, it would go over his head, and he would ask if I’ve prayed about it. So, I went a different route. I waited a while, and when an opportunity presented itself, I declared I was aromantic (for future reference, people, clarify it as: aromantic; not: a romantic, with the space and all; just fyi), and even appealed, “If this was a different time, I’d probably be a nun.”
The nun thing sold it for him, and it is pretty much true overall, and let’s be honest, he is a classic Dad. He never protested or had a problem with how I was never dating or seeking a man. Because then he wouldn’t have to worry about his little girl. (Hehe, got some news for you, bro.)
(And let me also clarify: the waiting until the opportunity came was a legit, good strategy for me. Because the longer I kept answering “lol nope” to family members asking if I was seeing anyone yet, the more it came up with one-on-one dinners with him about how much my answer was going to stay that way. I knew 100% it would come up.)
So, yeah, I was happy with that.
Meanwhile, my depression scared me and made me fear for my life like never before, and I finally sought professional help. I could go into detail, but I won’t. I halted my life, went on short term disability, and went through a couple of programs at a psychiatric hospital. That was two years ago now, and during these last two years, it’s been a struggle but good.
I got better. It was slow, a lot of the times I had to just take it day-by-day, but I slowly, surely, improved. Work got better, I am now a part of a fantastic team, and while identifying aro – out, proud, and not looking to mingle – and being surrounded by amazingly supportive friends, it’s been alright. At worst, it’s been fine, and at best, I can say I’ve been happy – which isn’t that novel?
Then one day… I’m fucking scrolling through Tumblr, like you do… and I come across a text post. I’ve seen a few like it since, especially since I now follow SO many trans blogs, but the basic gists were (not verbatim):
“It’s wild to me that people who say ‘I wish I was gay’ or ‘I wish I was a different gender’ haven’t considered that maybe they are gay or a different gender”.
It was followed by something like:
“If you wish you were a man, I’ve got some great news for you, buddy.”
And if the aro thing was like a light bulb, this was like a goddamn slap upside the head.
So, I thought about it, did some research, thought some more, and it was actually surprisingly easy for me to accept I wasn’t cis.
I can’t say anything profound about it either. I won’t sit here and type out about what a relief it was, etc, because I had already sort of… gotten rid of the majority of the expectations of me as a woman. I let (helped) depression ruin my “figure”, if I wore makeup at all, it was done purposely to look natural, and if I did my nails at all or something, it was because I was incredibly bored and I’m good at it. Yes, it took years to get to this point, but I was (am) at a point where no one in my life, including people at work, would blink an eye if I came waltzing in wearing baggy jeans, flannel, hair tucked into a beanie, with no makeup and burping under my breath.
You might be thinking, “…and you’re just now…” Believe me, hindsight, baby. I look at my life, and it’s just me, holding up a giant “DUH” sign.
‘Course, I will add there is absolutely nothing wrong for a cis woman to be waltzing in like that either. The evidence is simply because no one in my life would blink an eye. Or, rather, does blink an eye when I definitely do that. It may not be “traditional woman” (whatever-the-fuck that is), and some women definitely get grief and judgment, and I definitely recognize and know I’m lucky, because in my life? No big deal.
Accepting I wasn’t cis was easy. But that begged the question: what am I?
Honestly, it didn’t take long to make the jump. Especially once I began researching and admitting things to myself. In fact, it wasn’t even a jump. If I farted wrong, I would’ve landed on it. For me, though, I couldn’t make that step immediately. Not outwardly – safe alone in a room even.
For me, I took a “genderqueer/genderfluid” step first. Again, I recognize and really effing appreciate how lucky I am for the people in my life. Even new people I met right there at the beginning, where I simply announced, “use they/them”, and they were like “*thumbsup*”. (Or, thinking of two special people, one was like “*thumbsup*”, the other was like, “me too,” and then me, the oldest, turned around and slipped up with their they/them’s. Oof, again.)
Meanwhile, I didn’t get depressed. Meanwhile, I was patient with myself. Meanwhile, I let myself explore. Meanwhile, I became informed. Meanwhile, I tested the waters.
Also, meanwhile, I learned about someone who was seven years on T and jfc, dude was RIPPED, and I got so excited BECAUSE I WANT TO BE THAT.
Meanwhile, I’ve signed up for my work building’s gym and got a nutritionist because “becoming a man” is apparently an extreme motivator to me for losing weight and getting healthy (to have the opportunity to transition) than to “look like I used to” ever held a candle to.
Meanwhile, I’ve begun to quit smoking – which, big deal for me. Is it? Then why quit? Because wearing a binder is dangerous enough without adding that to it. Me, someone who’s been the butt of friendly jokes that if I quit smoking, the world has ended, is quitting for binders.
Meanwhile, I bought men’s underwear and loved them so much, I actually threw away any other underwear I had.
Meanwhile, I’ve literally been going by a voice actor’s helpful directions on how to train my voice to sound lower and deeper.
Meanwhile, I was researching trans men so much, I started getting fucking ads.
Also also, meanwhile… People started telling me I look happy.
Meanwhile, people have started telling me I seem more confident.
Meanwhile, I’ve noticed I can actually look at myself in the mirror for longer than just ten seconds.
Meanwhile, I read “trans is beautiful” and “trans men are valid” posts and smile, grin like an idiot, or sometimes get teary eyed.
Meanwhile, my mother tells me how happy she is to see me so calm and sure of myself – like never before.
Meanwhile, my friend told me I just look a lot healthier even though nothing’s really changed.
Meanwhile, acquaintances tell me, “There’s something different about you. Don’t worry, it’s good. I’m glad to see it.”
There’s a lot more to my story, and there’s a lot more to come. But no matter how I was raised (ie, God-Said-No rug), and no matter my struggles in life, I’m just simply not someone who can ignore something that feels so right, good, and me. So much so, that despite not being able to say it out loud, I have actually already gone to my fucking boss to make sure I had her support for if/when the time came where who I am is, uh, *ahem*, very obvious. (Good news, she’s with me and thinks I’m brave. [But I thought you couldn’t say it out loud? Trust me, that kind of conversation, you don’t really need to say it out loud.])
I’ve only told a few. There are more I’ve invited into my story, as it were, as a genderfluid them, but my truth – that has gently patted my head and softly told me, “I’ll take it from here” – is cracking his neck and squaring his shoulders.
Hi. My name is Dean Harrison.
Links to the trans-things I said I’d link:
There’s this guy, Jamie: https://www.youtube.com/user/MrPinocchio17
This guy’s super cool: https://www.youtube.com/user/illrollwithit Especially this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcS4YToGdbQ
This video was helpful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40IC0BU0Qto
As was this girl: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFYl3ReqX5k
And then all of these blogs are awesome, supportive, and I love them:
https://truscumuncensored.tumblr.com/
http://transboygif.tumblr.com/
http://boy-supportive.tumblr.com/
http://trans-matters.tumblr.com/
https://ftmfashionstyle.tumblr.com/
http://workmaninprogress.tumblr.com/
