I Love Who We Are

Why Am I Transgender?

by Felix Hayes

"As my friend Julian puts it, only half winkingly: "God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation."

– Daniel M. Lavery, Something That May Shock and Discredit You

Why am I transgender? The short answer is I just am. I’m transgender in the same way that I have brown eyes; it’s just the way I was made.

I could easily choose to stay in the closet and not be open about who I am, or even personally deny myself the realization of who I am. So why do I acknowledge it, especially in a world that’s cruel to people like me? Why do I say to the world, every day, this is who I am and you can’t make me be quiet?

I realized something was different about me in middle school. When all of my female friends started growing breasts, they were happy to finally be developing. I couldn’t stomach them. I tried using ace bandages to hide them, but that only worked for so long. I grew to a D cup in about a year and didn’t even stop there. Why were all of my friends so happy with something that disgusted me so much?

I had never considered my body much before then. It was small and inoffensive, so why should I give it my time when there were more interesting things like looking at bugs and chasing my friends around the playground? Puberty very rapidly made my body unavoidable. When I looked in the mirror, instead of seeing a child, I started seeing a woman. That disgusted me.

At the same time, my male friends were getting deeper voices and facial hair. They started getting bulges in their pants. At first, I thought my interest in their developments was purely sexual - after all, I had just started developing my sex drive, and what teenage girl isn’t interested in boys? Over time, I came to realize the emotion I was feeling was jealousy. They had what I wanted - a body that matched what I was feeling. I tried stuffing socks in my pants a few times, but that only went so far. I was still a girl, everyone knew that.

Until one day, I found the words for what I was feeling. Transgender. Masculine. Neither man nor woman fit me, but I aligned way more with masculinity than with femininity. I finally convinced my parents to let me cut my hair shorter, even though they thought I was doing it “for the wrong reasons”. I don’t know what the right reasons would have been.

When I finally got a pixie cut at fifteen, I went home and cried. I was getting closer to who I was meant to be, but I was still so far away. My parents wouldn’t let me explore this side of myself. I asked for a binder to hide my chest, but they said no. They didn’t want me to be a man, they wanted me to be the girl I was intended to be. So I took matters into my own hands. It wasn’t my best decision, but I ran away one morning. I walked to the nearest hospital and checked myself into the psych ward. I told my parents I wasn’t coming out until they got me a binder. They had no choice, so they finally got me one.

I felt free. I was finally able to look in the mirror and not hate myself. I didn’t quite have the masculine body I wanted yet, but at least the main womanly traits were gone. I tried out a new name. Obviously, my parents hated it, but it was freeing. To be known as someone who didn’t have a feminine name, who didn’t have breasts or long hair, was magical. I finally felt whole. Over time, I started feeling like a real person. I wasn’t just going through the motions anymore; I actually started loving my life. I made friends who loved me as a man, not as a woman like I’d been known my entire life. I was finally known for myself, not the person my parents wanted me to be.

And then the unthinkable happened. I became an addict. It almost killed me. But in my recovery, I grew closer with my parents. Finally, they started seeing me. My dad still isn’t entirely pleased, but he’s starting to understand. My mom’s transformation has been nothing short of miraculous. She used to think that being queer was a sin, and now she’s completely changed her beliefs because of me.

So why am I transgender? I am because I have to be. For my family, for others around me who may be in the closet or in hiding or afraid that something bad will happen if they start living authentically. I’ve changed my parents’ minds, I plan on doing it again for others. By living out and proud, I can help people to see that maybe they’re wrong about people like me. I can show people that there’s nothing wrong with living the way I do. I can show people who are hiding this part of themselves that there’s nothing to be ashamed of, that love and acceptance can be found in being the person you were meant to be.

Even more than that, I’m transgender for me. For the teenage boy living in a girl’s body, trying desperately to hide his feminine parts. I’ve found joy in crafting myself, physically and emotionally, into the person I truly want to be. I feel joy every time someone calls me by my real name. I feel joy looking in the mirror and finally seeing a man. I feel joy being loved for who I am, not for who I could be. Who doesn’t want that rush of euphoria just for being alive? Being transgender is a joyful experience. I get to create my own path, choose my own destiny. I get to be loved for every part of me, not just the parts the world chose for me. I get to be someone I’m proud of. I get to be me.