My transition journey

2023/08/02

Content warnings

But overall, this is a positive story.

Foreword

This is an account of my transition journey, from what I consider its beginning in 2017 to August 2023. It focuses almost entirely on my inner experience : my thoughts about gender, how they evolved, the decisions I took, how it made me feel, etc. It does not discuss in any detail the consequences of my transition in the rest of my life (professional, personal, family, etc.) ; this is also interesting but this would be for another post.

I initially started writing this as an answer to this post.

My story

Being trans is not a choice. But every act of transition is one.

It was long and drawn out. My journey started in late 2017 (I was 33 at the time.) At the time I had just got out of a very toxic relationship I had been in for 7 years, and was healing, rebuilding myself and trying to explore and find myself more. As part of that, I joined a local bi and pan organization. I had known I could be attracted to people of any gender for at least a decade, but it’s not something I had given much thought until then. (I wasn’t especially hiding, my ex and some friends, for example, were aware of that, but it just did not seem relevant to my life as long as I was in an exclusive, overtly heterosexual relationship.)

There were quite a lot of trans people in that organization… and it was the first time I met overtly trans people, or actually was in contact with anything about transidentity. It may seem weird nowadays, but I went to school in the 90s, and studied in the 00s. There just wasn’t much awareness then. And I’m from a quite conservative family, and never met any queer people through other connections. (There is no virulent homophobia or transphobia in my family, but those topics just weren’t discussed.) Until 2017, my life suffered from a complete lack of queerness - besides a few gay acquaintances during my studies.

So, I didn’t have any idea about transidentity until 2017. I knew some people “changed sex” and I probably had a few clichés and preconceptions about that, but that’s all. It did not feel like something possible, or thinkable, or relevant on a personal level; it was like that was part of another universe. Meeting trans friends in 2017 changed that. Gender suddenly became something that could be questioned, discussed, thought over; I had friends doing just that, and it resonated in me. It only took a few weeks or months until I started doing the same.

I had never questioned masculinity before, but it quickly became clear that I had no attachment or sense of belonging to it. But I didn’t especially feel any connection with feminity either. For a few weeks I called myself “cis by default”, which was mostly a fancy way to say “I don’t care”, and then I discovered the label “agender” and it seemed to fit. In 2018 I grew more confident, and I started calling myself both non-binary and agender, and experimenting a bit with my clothes and appearance in some settings, in a way that was more queer and androgynous than anything else. It did not trigger any big epiphany, mostly I was happy of the freedom I had taken, but that was all. It was quite obvious to me that I did not want any sort of hormonal transition or transition surgery and never would. (Yeah, you can laugh.)

In 2019, or maybe late 2018, I dropped the “agender” label and started just calling myself non-binary. It was becoming clear that I had some feelings about my gender, even if they were messy and complicated. I couldn’t honestly say I didn’t care. I wanted to adopt a more androgynous and queer appearance on a daily basis and affirm myself more in the public space. That’s also when I started talking about my questioning to friends beyond my lovers and the queer organization, and started using non-gendered terms and pronouns to refer to me.

In early 2019, I shaved my beard and mustache, which I had born for nearly a decade I think, in what I made a quite eleborate personal ritual. A bit later, I started painting my nails, and the way it initially made me extremely scared and then extremely happy is the first of many such moments in the rest of my story. (I still paint my nails now and don’t like going out without nail polish; I consider it my first act of physical transition and it has a special importance to me.) I still simply called myself non-binary, and I was still positive I did not want hormones or surgery. Well, at least for surgery. Hormones… were not part of the plan, but they were not as unthinkable as they used to be.

It’s also when I dropped my masculine birth first name in favor of a non-gendered diminutive that my family and friends already used a lot (let’s call it my semideadname). I didn’t do any coming out at work, but I asked colleagues to refer to me by that name only, and at fall, I asked my new students (I’m an academic) to just call me by that name instead of “sir” (or “madam”).

In 2020, I started exploring wearing feminine clothing more. I also wondered what it would be like to have boobs, so I bought some external prosthesis and tried wearing them at home with a bra. And that’s when it happened. I put on a dress I had found in a thrift store, looked at myself in the mirror and… wow, that’s me? What’s happening? I… like myself? Physically?

The feeling was so strong, so new I could not pin it initially. It was just intense, and a bit shocking. I had never hated my body and it’s appearance - I was mostly indifferent to it - but at that moment I realized I had never liked it either, and that was how it felt.

(I ripped that dress a few days later, when trying to put it on again - it was a bit small for me. I cried a lot.)

Discovering gender euphoria set me on a way. I still called myself non-binary, but I really decided to explore feminine gender expression more. I didn’t want to use the label “trans” for me - as many people, I did not feel legitimate using it - but I started suspecting that it was where I belonged too.

Getting more feminine clothes I liked and wearing them made me more confident. I dressed sometimes fem, sometimes masc, sometimes in a nondescript androgynous way, on a daily basis - I just went on boymoding with the family, and at work I did wear some of the androgynous looks but nothing like a dress or a skirt. I experienced moments of euphoria, more or less intense. At that moment, I was experimenting, playing with gender codes, without wanting to stick by any. When a shop attendant told me “hello sir or madam or I don’t know” it filled me with joy.

In summer 2020, I had a quite important personal experience on psychedelics that made me commit more to feminity. I was non-binary, that was clear to me, but I realized I had spent 35 years unknowingly masquerading as a man, nearly half my life, and became determined to take things in hands and live who I am fully. And since it was now clear I had more connection and joy with feminity than masculinity, it meant embracing it more.

I claimed the word “trans”. I was a non-binary transfeminine person. On fall 2020, I saw a doctor I had been recommended to do the paperwork to have medical transition procedures covered, and I started laser hair removal. Since I had shaved in 2019, I had kept my face clean, and having visible facial hair had made me more and more uncomfortable, to the point it was clear I was experiencing dysphoria.

I had been thinking a lot about HRT since the beginning of 2020, and I had discussed it a lot with some friends and acquaintances (mostly trans, some on HRT, some not), but I was still unsure. I know I certainly wanted some of the effects, but despite my experiment with prosthesis I still wasn’t sure I wanted boobs. And more generally, it felt like crossing a line, some sort of non-return point. Although I was more and more confident with my identity, I was still fighting some sort of impostor syndrome at that point, and besides, I knew (and was told by several trans friends) that it would change how I would be perceived by at least part of society, forever. Right now, I could still hide, pretend, if I wanted to just go with the flow and forget about that gender stuff. Going on HRT would change that, and make me an outcast to some people.

But hiding wasn’t the point. The path to more joy and authenticity was clear, and it never was my nature to try to hide or be ashamed of who or what I am. I was afraid, yes, but most worthwhile things are scary. Finally, I had enough. I took that leap of faith into myself, and I started HRT on 4th March 2021. It was possibly the scariest and the best decision I took in my life so far.

HRT and laser worked their way quite quickly on me, and it gradually changed how both me and other people were seeing my body. HRT also changed a lot of things in my emotional balance and awareness, in my sexual functioning, and a score of little other details in my life. I never, ever regretted the decision; on the opposite, after starting I wanted the effects to be quicker, and more intense. Especially, I got boobs… and not only did I love that, but I realized I wanted more boobs.

I still called myself non-binary and transfeminine, in that order, and although I did not hesitate to adopt a feminine expression fairly often, I also spent quite a lot of time looking more androgynous and queer than anything else, and I still spent many days wearing just jeans and a geeky T-shirt.

This lasted until Spring 2022, when there was another shift in my relationship with gender. The catalyst was two weddings, from close family members. Going with a masculine gender expression was out of question. For the first one, I wanted to dress in a classy non-binary way. I ended up going in a jumpsuit and dressing mostly fem. Everyone (from close family members to people I had never met, like the groom’s family), treated me normally and I got many compliments on my outfit. It was two days of non-stop, pure gender euphoria.

For the second wedding, I got a dress and dressed completely fem. I had roughly the same experience. From then, it was over. I realized I could socially exist as a woman, in a more general way, and be accepted as such, and that doing so brought me immense joy. And there was no way I was going to deprive myself of that any more.

I spent most of July and August 2022 in a state of constant gender euphoria high. Just being there, dressing, existing, as a girl, filled me with joy, energy, motivation, contentment as I had never felt. I can still feel it now; I have become somewhat used to it, and other unrelated problems have caught up since then, but it still supports me, gives me joy and strength. I have not presented masc in more than one year and I have no intention of doing so in any foreseeable future. Going back to the place I was before is out of question, I would instantly crumble into a depressive mess.

(Even when I make the thought experiment to project myself not into my past pre-transition self, but into an idealized version of it, some masculine me who would have “solved his problems” and be in a better place that what I lived, physically, mentally, professionally, etc. the idea of being that person is unbearable, almost painful. That person looks fine and allright, but it’s simply really not me.)

It did not really change my core identity, though. To this day, I still consider myself non-binary, although I’ll usually say I’m a transfeminine non-binary person, or a non-binary trans woman. I know there is ambiguity and androgyny in me - I might want to express it more later in my life - and after talking a lot about it, I really don’t think my experience of gender is the same as that of girls (cis or trans) who just feel they are entirely and only girls. But I know what brings me joy and strength here and now is socially existing as a woman, or, well, at least something feminine-leaning, and in many ways that’s more important. In most situations now, I just say I’m a trans woman. In most cases, it’s enough for me, and for the person in front of me. With people close to me, I will usually discuss the details of my connection to gender, sooner or later, but just as I discuss any other personal topic. Being socially treated as a woman is what matters most to me now.

Those shifts changed a lot of things about my functioning and experience of the world. I became more confident in social situations, more at ease with groups and better able to enjoy being in groups - although being an introverted autistic mess also meant I put myself in social overload quite easily. I also discovered that not only I (and other people) could find myself cute and pretty, but also sexy and attractive. And that it could be pleasant and exciting, but that it came with its own lot of problems, and also that it gave you power over other people, and any power demands great responsibility - or preferably being torn down as quick as possible. Overall, not only my social functioning but my whole emotional economy shifted. The things that hurt me, that comforted me, that gave me self-esteem, or self-confidence, became different. Adjusting my life to those changes, to the person I’ve become, is a messy and complicated process, and I’m not done yet with it.

Summer 2022 is also when I officially changed my first name and started using the name Miranda. I had wanted to change my first name for at least one year, to replace my deadname by my semideadname as a first name, but I also wanted to add a feminine name as a second name, to be able to use it in case I wanted to use a name that is more immediately recognizable as feminine. Finding names was not easy for me, and it took me a lot of time. I thought over it a lot in early 2022, and I found Miranda in June. When I tried to use it in July, I immediately loved it and and started using it more and more. A few months later, all my friends, lovers and acquaintances called me that way. My colleagues joined in in early 2023.

In late 2022, I got a fat transfer breast augmentation. So long for the “no surgery”. HRT had already given me some breasts, but I wanted a bit more, and to improve the shape. As I’m writing this in August 2023, I’m considering repeating that procedure, and maybe doing some light face surgery (mostly to do something about my jawline). I’m still not considering any genital surgery, except maybe an orchidectomy at some point.

I don’t think my journey is over. I’m not sure it will even be one day. Exploring my gender led me to try new things, those new things changed the way I function, and those changes changed the way I thing about my gender. I’ve lived this pattern several time, and every time I seem to become a truer, more authentic version of myself. I don’t know if at some point I’ll be in a completely comfortable place and it will stop, or if it will go on for as long as I live. I don’t care. I’ve just stopped saying “I won’t ever do … about my transition” :)

Yes, it was long and drawn out, but I have no regret about this. This was my journey, my explorations, my questioning, and they took the time they needed for me, no more and no less. They couldn’t have been shorter without me not being me. On the other hand, something I do regret, and that I’m sometimes bitter about, is that this journey started so late in my life. This is nobody’s fault, I just wish life had put trans people on my path earlier. On the good days, most of the time, I keep to the thought that I could have found out even later, or never, and it makes me determined to live life fully, in the present, and waste no time now. On the bad days, I cry over a past that never was and a future that is shrinking at every moment.

Before concluding, I want to say those nearly 6 years were not all smooth and happy. In this text, I focused on my inner experience, my relationship to gender, how it changed with time, and the decisions and evolutions I went through, and those were mostly smooth and happy. I never experienced really heavy, disabling dysphoria, or regretted doing or not doing anything, or any of the other things that can make it painful. On the other hand, how those changes affected my life, that was anything but smooth, and it’s still not. But it’s another story.

I could conclude by saying I’m happier now, and that’s certainly true. But what I feel more is simply… alive, more alive and awake than I have ever felt in my life. Actually, my life is no different than anybody’s. There are good days and bad ones, joys and frustrations, elation and despair, contentment and anger and sadness but it all feels true, and intense, in a way I could never have understood six years ago.

Sometimes it’s hard, because many people won’t understand either and constantly explaining is so fucking tiring, and because going through what most people live as a teenager in your late 30s is a strange if exhilarating experience, and because of the lost time, and because figuring out what you want to do with your life when you already have an education and career and social life is challenging, and because plenty of people in plenty of countries just wouldn’t mind killing us or putting us in camps or institutions and some of them are in power, and for many other reasons. But sometimes, still, I’m lying in my bed, or sitting in my office chair, or walking in the street, and feel pure joy and wonder at simply being myself, having made the choices I have made, and being able to exist in this world as Miranda the weird non-binary girl with blue hair. And it makes up for the times when it’s hard.

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