by Jaymes
As a child, I did not grow up with positive trans representation. Now that I look back, the only trans representation I can think of seeing was trans feminine people, often being used in sitcoms as the butt of the joke.
Until high school, everything I knew about the term transgender was learnt through YouTube videos that I stumbled across. I feel fortunate that I was able to familiarise myself with the term before my teenage years, even if I didn’t have the bravery to admit to myself that I was trans until I was older; it was nice to know people like me existed in the world, and that we are strong.
As I am writing this, the UK government has extended a ban on puberty blockers for trans youth. In the last three years 16 children have lost their lives on the GIC waiting list. That is 16 children robbed of a future.
I am now 19. I fortunately made it to adulthood. Through the support of my friends, positive role models and the faculty at my secondary school. I fought hard to survive. As a trans teenager, I encountered a lot of bullying and homophobia. For most of my school years, I suffered from bad mental health which declined even more after I realised I was trans.
Being trans felt like a death sentence. The political climate for trans people has only gotten worse in recent years, and I found I had to beg others to stand in my corner. Loneliness had me in a chokehold during my teen years. I harboured a lot of anger towards people in my life because nobody fully understood what I was going through.
I dreamed of a day that I did not have to correct people on my pronouns or a time I no longer felt guilty for being trans. I saw little to no trans joy in the world. I felt stuck in a suit of flesh I did not recognise, struggling to pursue any hobbies or interests, merely because I could not endure them as myself.
This piece of writing is dedicated to any trans person who was led to believe that even unconditional love has strings attached.
I struggled to find any trans joy to look forward to when I was younger. I could list all the tough times I’ve met during my journey; I could paint being transgender as a tragedy, but that would make me no better than all the articles that I read growing up. Trans joy is sacred, it deserves a platform to be shown on. But so often any spark of trans joy I feel is almost always extinguished when some transphobic headline hits the papers.
When I turned 18, I was determined to build myself a strong support system. I wanted to have my life back. To heal, I had to get past the mindset that being trans was a burden. I wanted to engage in a community which taught me that being transgender was magical. Starting university felt bittersweet. The ease of finally allowing myself to flourish as who I am, surged through my veins like electricity. But, I felt guilty, as though I was being selfish.
A dear friend of mine introduced me to the beautiful quote by Daniel Mallory Ortberg from his novel, Something That May Shock and Discredit You.
“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.”
I felt something tug on my soul after reading that.
I used to want to throw the word “transgender” off me like a heavy jacket. It felt suffocating to me, it was keeping me boxed up as “not man enough”. To be respected I thought that I needed to confine myself to heteronormative manhood. But I soon learnt that I had only scratched the surface of my transness, and that the act of creation allowed my identity to flow freely.
That quote by Daniel Mallory Ortberg replayed itself in my mind when I took my first ever dose of testosterone. I had my loved ones either side of me to witness the exhale of relief. I finally realised that I was not alone anymore.
I am discovering that trans joy is love, bliss and so much more. I thought of the quote the day I was handed my student ID with the correct name on. I reread it after therapy once. Trans joy is strength. I said it to myself in the mirror before I applied trans tape for the first time. Trans joy is community. I remembered the time my voice cracked in line for the self-checkout in Lidl. Trans joy is healing. I repeated it when I went to the barbers for the first time. Trans joy is freedom. I hear it every time my best friend calls me her little brother. Trans joy is family. Trans joy is resistance. Trans joy is worth living and fighting for.