My Story as a Trans Man

I listened to this song while writing this blog. It's from a movie called I Saw The TV Glow, which is a "horror" movie about being transgender, and I highly recommend it.

So, in case you didn't know, I'm transgender ftm (female to male). I'm 21, and I've been out for about a year now (it was a year in December). 

I spent the majority of my life in deeeep denial about my identity, and I feel like it's important to talk about, since there's this expectation that you're "really" trans if you've known you're whole life. Which, I guess I technically knew I was trans at a young age, but I was so deep in the closet I managed to get away with ignoring my feelings for years and years.

I first realized I wasn't a girl when I was in either 5th or 6th grade, so I was about 10 or 11. My body started developing and changing in ways that didn't feel... right. Up until middle school, I was a stereotypical "girl". I always wore pink, and dresses, and I hated things that were usually viewed as "masculine". I was ok with this. I was a girl.

But fuck, puberty fucked me up. The first time I had to get a training bra I broke down sobbing. My mom thought it was hormones, but when I'd look in the mirror and see my chest, it felt wrong. When I realized my voice wouldn't drop, I tried to force my voice down. 

During middle school, my style changed a lot. I went from pig tails and skirts to graphic tees and beanies. When i got to school, I'd put my hair up in a pony with some strands pulled over my forehead and a beanie to give the illusion I had short hair. I got in trouble a lot for wearing hats in school.

I ended up coming out as genderfluid to my friends in 7th grade, but it didn't last long. I got tired of having to correct them about my name and pronouns, which often stayed at he/him, so I just went back in the closet. But I never forgot how happy and free I felt when I was "viewed" as a boy. But that joy was scary, and so I repressed it for the rest of middle school.

On my last day of 8th grade, I drew myself. I drew what I wanted to look like when I got to being a senior in high school. I specifically made a note that I wanted to look like Gerard Way, because he was honestly my trans awakening. All I wanted was to one day look like a boy.

When I got to high school, I came out as a demiboy and used he/they pronouns, but just at school. It felt... right. I still hated my body, and my voice, but I ignored that hatred. I'd go home to my conservative parents and listen to them rant about trans people, but it didn't care. Because I'd go to school, and I was Misha. And everyone called me Misha. I wore three sports bras (don't do that) to make myself flat, and I stole my brothers clothes when he was out. I cut my hair to a pixie cut. I felt right. And I wasn't scared of that feeling anymore. I felt like I was slowly becoming myself. I almost came out as a trans boy.

But my parents found my Instagram where I went by my chosen name. We had a really big fight about how I would always be their daughter, and that this was all a phase. Which is funny, because they said the same thing a few years previous when they found out I was saying I was genderfluid.

So, I went back in the closet. I stopped going by Misha. I went back to using she/her. That hurt more than anything. I suppressed the boy that lived inside me. I killed him. 

I forced myself to be a girl. Through my sophomore and senior years, I was so hyperfeminine. I wore makeup to school everyday. I started wearing dresses and skirts again. I'd dye my hair purple, and I started growing it out. But every time I looked at myself in the mirror, something felt wrong. I kept telling myself freshman year was a phase. I was delusional for thinking I was a boy. 

During covid, I kind of came out as nonbinary. I used all pronouns, but I was still hyperfem. I still wore makeup and skirts, and posted TikToks dressed like an "e-girl". I happily called myself an e-girl. I went to college nonbinary.

The first purchase I ever made when I left home for school was a binder. It was a shitty binder from GC2B (don't buy GC2B binders), but I wore it every day. I looked at myself in the mirror and sobbed because finally, finally was flat. I started dressing masculine again, and came out as a lesbian. I got into my first serious relationship my freshman year of college with another girl, a lesbian. Something felt... off about our relationship though. Sure, I liked her. She was a good friend. But I was secretly sad with our relationship. One day I told her about how I used to think I was a trans guy, and she laughed.

"I could never date a trans guy. Please never be a guy. I love you too much."

Her words really stung. I ended up transferring colleges, and I broke up with her due to the distance. 

The next year was really hard. My dysphoria was getting really hard to ignore. I couldn't go a day without binding, and just a mention of my deadname felt like a knife through my chest. I couldn't look at mirrors. Misha was clawing at the coffin I had put him in. The boy I killed was getting desperate.

I made friends with a trans guy at my new school, and I talked to him about my gender and how I viewed myself. 

All he said was "oh so you're trans." I was confused.

"No, I'm not. I'm just nonbinary."

"You said you view yourself as a guy though?"

"No, I view myself as an androgynous guy."

"Yeah, guy."

"No."

"Alright."

I really internalized that conversation. But I wasn't transgender. Everyone in my life said I wasn't. It was just a phase. Right?

Right?

December of 2022 I told my best friend, Finn, that I wished I was perceived as a trans guy. Finn is also trans. He told me that's how he viewed his own gender, and wishing to look like a trans guy is a very trans thing to say. I told him no. He said ok.

The next day I asked him to use he/they pronouns for me.

He said "I know."

"Well," I asked. "What should my name be?"

"You seem like a Charlie."

"Can you call me Charlie?"

"I'd be happy to."

Sure, I could've gone by Misha again. Deep down, I'll always hold that name near and dear to my heart, but the short period of time that I did go by Misha was quite literally the most traumatizing time of my life, and I associate that time with that name. And the most important person in the world gave me my name. So, in a way, it's still a family name.

I'm still in the closet when it comes to my family. I could potentially end up homeless or in the hospital if I came out as trans. As I got more trans, my parents got more conservative. It's something I just have to live with. And it's hard. It's really fucking hard. I get really depressed around my family, because I know they don't view me the way I see myself. They never will. But it's ok. I'll get through it.

I'll do it for him.