I am a transgender man. Two weeks ago today, I finally cut my hair. I socially transitioned years ago, at a point ambiguous enough that I probably didn't realize it at the time. Ever since I was a kid I always felt pressured from my bio-father to present as feminine, to lose weight, to stop playing "boy-sports", etc. Recently, though, I've gotten closer to my stepdad and mom, who have always supported me, even if they don't understand. My Mom and Dad take me fishing. They take me shopping at Sports and Outdoors. They buy me tickets to Stars games, classic car shows, and take me to watch baseball. They let me play hockey with the boys. Dad lets me wear his clothes. He learned of my aversion to traditional femininity and didn't question it. He never calls me by my deadname, just my Chinese name.

My brother is the man I've molded myself from. He was the first to call me by a new name. He was the first to use neutral language around me. He was the first to confront my father and still stands as a wall between me and him. My brother is the man who taught me what I like. I like transformers, and hot wheels, and videogames. I like little boy things because that’s what I am. I never got to like them when I was a little girl.

Sometimes I feel like I’m depriving my Mom of a daughter. I haven’t come out to any of my parents as anything other than generally queer. But then she sits down and watches action movies with me, and buys me Hot Rod magazines, and this is how she tells me it’s okay.

I was raised and grew up in a catholic household where being queer in any capacity was met with threats of eternal damnation. Around fifth grade, when I started using the internet more, I realized that there are so many people out there in the world willing to accept me, and I started doing research into the LGBTQ+ community. This was the first time I realized I no longer lived in constraints. I didn't feel like a girl and I never liked who I saw when I looked  in a mirror, so I took baby steps. I made my pronouns She/They and told people I liked girls. I knew that I wasn't as cut-and-dry when it came to my identity than other people were. Fear of hell, gender dysphoria, peer pressure, relentless bullying, all of it hurt and I was forced to persevere despite it all. 

Were there times where I thought I was crazy? Of course. With everyone telling me so and being pressured by an unwelcoming religious group, I couldn't help but feel what I was doing was wrong. I would force myself to live with the discomfort of pretending to be straight and cis, but doing that only hurt me. Eventually, I taught myself to tune out the sound of bigots as I knew that all people, including me, deserved to exist on this planet.

Now, four years later, I am non-binary and I go by They/Them, and there are people who do accept me for who I am I guess the moral of this story is try your best to embrace what you feel, and take your time while doing so. Being genderqueer, liking the same gender, that doesn't make you any less than a straight cis person.  

In the seventh grade, I led a double life. 2023 was the dawn of my social transition. I was only really out to a select few friends of mine, and to the rest of the world I was distant, uncaring, and definitely a jerk. To me, it felt like I had to overcompensate for such a big secret of mine, acting as manly as possible and always following what the boys were doing. Then in November, my closest friend whom I was out to, Quinn, invited me to a party and insisted I wear the dress they had secretly gifted me a few weeks back. They reassured me that everyone at the party was safe, and I eventually ended up going in that yellow sundress. It was the first time I had worn a dress to a semi-public location (Quinn’s house) but I was decently confident in going. To my surprise, no one really said anything about it, and the party went on as planned.

A few days after the party. I was at school with all my guards up. I can’t remember the specific scenario but I had been denying some kind of trans or femboy accusation from some kid. One of the people who had attended overheard my conversation and questioned what my deal was from the party. At that moment I felt like everything had collapsed, but I managed to keep my guard up and dismiss their question. 

I had always been incredibly terrified of being outed or outing myself, but I never actually thought about what would happen if I was. In retrospect, I think that if I came out and transitioned in middle school, even though I would probably receive some backlash, it would only be temporary. But most importantly, I would be myself.

Hi. I'm a transgender girl in the tenth grade.

When I was young I felt as if my peers had left me behind. I was in a small private catholic school, so in my small little “convent” of kids I was left out of a tight knit community. I wasn’t into enough sports or masculine enough to hang with the boys and my presence was too loud and masculine to be with the girls. I strung between a grande divide. Everyone seemed to be following instructions I hadn’t received. I managed to find a few other outcasts throughout my six year stint at that school, but they  were driven out by the prickly wall and mocking stares. “Luckily” for me, my time there only drew to a close with the Covid Pandemic.

I've struggled with depression for the past 5.5 years. The start of Covid distanced me from both friends and family. Leaving me to stagger through the swamp laid within me. Every moment I was mired in a marsh of mental fatigue and stress. With my dysphoria, I felt as if I was trapped inside a husk. My body felt heavy, unwieldy, foreign, empty. I escaped onto the internet and videogames. Throughout most of middle school I tried to escape my feelings. Not aware that they were the key to understanding my mental affliction.

In eighth grade I knew I was queer. Within a clique of queer kids I spent hours obsessing over cartoons and DND, beginning to understand that I am more than just bisexual. There was a different kind of queerness beneath the surface. Clawing at the seams of its chrysalis. I held it back with my own self loathing. My mind bound it in threads of doubt. But one Sunday morning I heard a youtuber say something simple. “If you think you are faking it, chances are you are not.” These words allowed the real me to break free. She was clumsy and awkward (more so than I am now), but unencumbered with the mud of my depression.

After my revelation I was ecstatic. I told my parents only a few weeks later. Only to be met with disregard and skepticism. I tried to convince them of my validity through discussion. I turned into a dog, leaping through hoop after hoop to gain their acceptance. After nearly two and a half years of this purgatory I finally gained the courage to come out to my friends. The rejection of my parents fully prepared me to be challenged. But my friends accepted me and believed me. This drove me to take matters into my own hands. I recruited my friends to aid me and went shopping so I can dress how I want. I’m going to live as myself even if I have to disregard my parents to do it. I refuse to jump through more hoops just to suffer in stagnation. Withering by my parents' heels.

  Edith, she/her  
October 27th, 2025

I’m a trans guy. Im a writer and I aspire to be a playwright and screenwriter. I go to an art school and it’s the best environment possible. Almost everyone there is so accepting and it feels awesome to be recognized like that. I’ve met so many other trans people which makes me feel less alone. There’s a ton of trans upperclassmen who seem so cool and it’s kind of inspiring to see them thriving. I’ve met so many amazing people including my “older brother” who’s always been there for me and has been a huge support in my life at so many times. He gave me my first binder too. I’m so glad to have my school as the support system it is and I look forward to my future where I get to live my life as a successful man.