On identity and rough drafts.
September 26th, 2022.

I'm transgender!

It hasn't exactly been a secret, but I haven't actually publicly said so yet in those exact words, so... that's me saying it. I could go on and on about what it feels like and what it means to me, but those aren't the parts I want to talk about today.

Today marks six months since starting hormone therapy (which is not really a lot of time). I'm in the awkward middle stage -- where I pretty much still look like a dude, but changes are becoming obvious enough that it's not really feasible to hide it anymore. But really, why should I hide it? I find myself rolling this question around over and over in my head. It seems to me that the average person must have enough of a basic knowledge of (or at least a vague understanding of) the process of transition to know that it takes a long time. So why not give in to the strangeness of it -- why not come out, and simply embrace this transitional period for what it is?

By talking about it more, I think it'll help me reach a point where I can be at peace with my progress. Recently, I find myself thinking a lot about how things are GOING to be. Each morning, I'm getting a little closer to that day when I can finally look in the mirror and see myself for the first time. It's exciting! But I catch myself: by focusing too much on what will be, I'm not paying enough attention to the wonderful things happening right in front of my eyes. When I unwittingly overanalyze a supposedly masculine feature on my body, I often tell myself, "I hate it, but it's okay, because it's going away soon." But perhaps what I ought to be saying is, "it's okay the way it is, and deserves to be loved, but with each day that passes, I'll love it even more." So yes, this is an awkward and painful period of transition, but it's deeply joyful, too.

It's kind of funny, but this line of thinking really gets me thinking about the way I've been feeling about my creative output recently. Why keep works-in-progress under lock and key? Why only share the song when it's done, completed, mastered? Art is not some mystical process wherein the work manifests itself into the world as a finished, polished product. So why not invite the ones I care about to share a little piece of the process?

It reminds me of something: have you ever compared the finished version of a project to its rough draft? When I do, I find myself struck not by how much is different, but how much is the same. Lyrics change, structures change, chords change, but the core of it has always been there. It's like with transition -- sometimes I feel like hardly anything has happened, and other times the "person I used to be" feels totally foreign. In these moments is when I feel the need to take stock of where I am, to ground myself in the gratefulness of this moment.

Despite all of the hard parts, I'm moving toward something truly good for me. It's taken me so long to get here, and I'm so blessed that I finally found the strength to actually do it. My friends tell me they've never seen me this happy before, and they're right! Each day I feel a dark cloud getting further and further away, and I can see a future where that cloud goes away forever; I've never really been able to see it before. I'm coming out from underneath a table during a storm. I'm opening the blinds, and there's lightning -- I'm taking in its crooked shape, its blinding color. It's mesmerizing. I never go back under the table.

So, lately, a lot of people ask me stuff like: What should I call you? How should I refer to you? What's up with your identity? I never really know how to answer these questions. When I really think about my identity, I eventually come back to the honest, anticlimactic conclusion of... well, I just don't really know. It's not my intention to be obtuse or to confuse people, but I can't definitively define (definitively define? jfc) myself just yet. I'm definitely not a man, but I also don't feel meaningfully connected to the idea of being a woman -- "wanting to be" maybe, but not "being". It's hard to stare directly at your facial hair in the mirror and say to yourself, "yes, I am a woman!". Everyone's different -- and all power to those who can! -- but for me, that's not something I'm able to do. (I'm of course getting it removed, but it takes a long time). I strongly believe that my ability to accept myself will grow stronger over time, but a lifetime of deep, deep repression does serious damage to your soul. It's damage that takes a lot longer than six months to heal. For now, I guess you can think of me as neither male nor female.

I thought my ideal way to handle coming out would have been the way everyone wishes they could, in a perfect world -- to snap my fingers and be done with transition, and everyone would instantly recognize the "new me", and instantly accept her. But it turns out, when you try to keep all this a secret, and when you choose not to share your experience, it makes people afraid to ask. And as I said before, I really have no reason to keep it a secret. It's weird, it's painful, it's incredible, it's affirming, it's alienating, it's a bizarre and wonderful miracle of modern medicine -- but it's not shameful, that's the important bit.

Finally reaching the point where I'm ready to transition (and tell people about it!!) took an incredible amount of guts and inner strength and I don't want to pretend that it's no big deal! This is huge for me, and I deserve to be proud. I'm still learning how to love myself. Feel free to ask questions or reach out. Much love to all the Woika Freaks out there.

There is nothing else for you here. Why don't you go on home.