I often hear transgender people are considered brave for simply stepping outside the door in the morning. Several people have said something along these lines to me after I came out and started living as my true self. Hearing such words from people I love, and some from people I barely knew has had a perpetually motivational effect on me. Having gone through this a few times, I am suddenly finding myself asking—why are trans-people perceived to be brave?
Is it because the mere prospect of being trans is considered to be insurmountably difficult? Hmm.. although likely true to some extent, it doesn’t seem to be the cause. After all, everyone faces difficulties in their lives. Why would mine be any more difficult than another? A matter of interpretation I suppose. From my interactions, I have found each person has an amazing journey with qualities promoting admiration.
My mother has overcome many false summits through life as a single mother seeking her profound meaning in life, and turning her career upside down to pursue it. My brother lives every day with all sorts of mental filters to allow himself to function and blend as part of our society without inciting any conflict as a result of having an Asperger brain (a form of autism). He harbors a resounding fear of being noticed in the world since he has learned differences come with a dangerous price. There are two fantastic examples within my own tree demonstrating bravery, but I’ve recently met others who have astounded me as well.
One such example is a trans girl like myself. She was labeled an abhorrence by her parents from the time she was four years old. She has lived without a home, exchanged sexual favors for food, and dabbled with hardcore drugs. There was even a story about train hopping at one point, which seemed straight out of a movie. Despite all these struggles, she endured. I am impressed by her resolve to weather anything life can throw at her under the banner of self empowerment. She is now a stunning woman fulfilling her dreams by living true to herself. I learned she has mustered the strength and stability to continue moving forward and undergo surgery. There are incredible examples of bravery all around us.
Maybe we are considered brave because there are plenty of people throughout the world who call us abominations, consider us mentally ill, and feel suitably uncomfortable to institute laws segregating bathrooms again. Although this is definitely true, there isn’t a person out there without enemies. As long as one exists, there are those who will disagree and offer opposition. I figure if I’m going to have enemies, it might as well be for the right thing. Again, this theory has merit, but doesn’t quite fit.
Perhaps being outwardly transgender is brave because it embodies living as one’s true self in the public eye. Everyone has their quirks, kinks, and the like. In order to be myself every day, I had to uncover who I am and expose secrets I had kept for the majority of my life. The kicker is, I had to do it all in plain sight of everyone I know! Much of my adolescence was lived in the dark (literally a dark basement) as a protective measure. I offered snippets of my identity to those close to me under the guise of clever deceptions because I was too terrified to allow anything more.
The first person I told about crossdressing was my closest friend in middle school. I was 14 at the time, and distinctly remember shaking as I sent her messages, and eventually pictures. She found it playful and helped me out by gifting me simple items like blue jeans, and even a Hannah Montana wig. It wasn’t much, but it was everything. This was the first real glance of myself I provided to the outside world. Having a close friend who was understanding, helpful, and encouraging made me feel less like a creature of the dark, and more like a weird human being. I used to dress up after dinner and instant message with her throughout the night.
It took me six months of planning to go out into public as a girl when I was 16 years old. Countless hours were spent online shopping to secure adequate clothing, makeup, hair, and confidence. The ensemble consisted of dark tights to conceal my legs, a short black dress, and tousled brown wig. I scoped out a nearby gas station to find the best time to go when there wouldn’t be many people, and had low visibility from the street. All the pieces were ready for the night my mother was going to be out, which allowed me to sneak past my brother to get to the car. My heart floored adrenaline through my veins as I drove to the site to make my grand demonstration. Standing adjacent to my car while the gas pumped provided some of the longest and most fulfilling minutes of my young life. Even through all the excitement, fear is the strongest sensation I remember.
There was a long line of secrets and schemes I crafted in order to share parts of myself without being completely exposed. Some were harmless, like convincing my family I was nudist. This allowed me an escape plan if I was ever surprised at home while dressed up. I would simply shout “I’m naked!” and they would give me the space to make an exit without crossing their sight. This saved me from being caught numerous times. Others were more damaging, and the lies ended up severing a couple friendships. Sadly, my truth phobia outweighed the value of these relationships.
All my time living in the dark was attributed to this fear. I continuously ran away from possibilities because I didn’t want to be assaulted, humiliated, or discarded. Meanwhile, there was an insatiable voice inside; a siren tempting me to a parallel life where I could live as a woman. Nothing was able to stop me from continuing the pursuit from the shadows—admitting it was a whole different story.
I started therapy with a heart of confusion seeking a clear answer to my elusive identity. Even though all I wanted was to hear a professional tell me I am a woman, I spent about four months desperately conjuring other theories behind it all. Fetish, phase, crisis, and so on. Admitting and accepting I am a woman meant it was real. I had always wanted to be a woman, but was never ready to be a trans-woman, which entailed numerous social, economical, and physiological implications. It sounded like an impossible task, but the idea of standing on the finish line as a beautiful woman knowing I made it became too compelling to resist any longer. It’s impossible for me to forget the unbreakable smile on my face as I lay awake from excitement after I first heard someone tell me I could do this; I could be a woman. I trapped my fear in the shadows to allow myself to step into the light and be brave.
Instead of cautiously dancing around the basement in a dress after everyone else had gone to sleep, I’m doing it in the streets without a care in the world. Rather than protecting “my big secret” and concealing an important part of myself, I’m openly discussing it with every curious ear I come across. I recently engaged a writer from work about the prospect of including a transgender character in the project we are working on. I’m not dreaming; I’m living. That’s pretty awesome! Each step to get here was terrifying, and there are plenty more ahead. I find it repulsive to think about going back after having lived in the light for over two years.
When people acknowledge the journey of being transgender as bravery they are simultaneously recognizing parts of themselves kept behind closed doors. Being your true self is scary, especially when it requires public visibility. Some don’t even have a choice in the matter, and can be seen making headlines as they face discrimination for the qualities that make them beautiful. When every difference can be called out and assaulted, why be different? It’s worth it. There hasn’t been a moment when I have regretted going for the gold and being the person I knew I am underneath.
A world where people conceal their beauty as protection from discrimination is a world where hate prevails. Each person is a special cocktail with the power to offer something no one else can. It’s up to each one of us to embrace the traits defining our uniqueness, and make our way through life knowing ourselves, and what we can provide for the spirits around us. It shakes me to my core to know there are those out there who are lost, and denying others of this opportunity.
Everyone has a different challenge to face in knowing and being this person. I am delighted to have made progress in knowing myself, and allowing myself to come to the surface. There are plenty more bizarre and beautiful things to learn about myself—I’m sure. Whenever the road ahead feels impassable I focus on how much stronger I am when I can be all of me. Be brave; be you.
Transgender Unfiltered 