Growing up, I loved being a girl. I loved dresses and skirts and the plastic high-heels and wearing mums makeup and wearing nail polish. I loved being a little princess and being a little girl.
When I was 12, I met my best friend. They then identified as a trans boy. They introduced me to the idea of being queer.
I came out as bi shortly after, thinking I had a crush on them. My parents were incredibly supportive and even supported looking further into my sexuality and my coming out as a lesbian.
But my friend also introduced me to the idea of being trans. I was 12 when I was looking into a mirror and deciding I hated my breasts. I didn’t know what to feel. I was scared of being a boy and everything that came with it. I decided I was nonbinary.
The four years following involved me exploring my sexuality and gender. Bi, pan, lesbian, aromantic. Nonbinary, demigirl, demigender, genderfluid, genderqueer. Never truly accepting that I could be a boy.
It hit me in the middle of a dream. My brother called me his brother and I had this “oh” moment. Oh, I’m a trans man. Not transmasc, not sometimes a boy. A trans man. And as a trans man, the lesbian label no longer made me comfortable. I looked deep into myself and found myself unable to authentically see myself dating a man or a woman. Aroace.
It’s taken four years of confusion, name changes and experimentation to come to this conclusion. For some it can be a couple of months. For some it can be years longer. Some people never figure it out.
No matter how long it takes you to come to terms with your identity, you are valid. It doesn’t matter if you keep changing your name every couple of weeks or months, I know I did, and I still might. It doesn’t matter if you change your label every day. It doesn’t matter if you never label yourself.
You are valid. Your experience is valid. Your identity is valid.
I see you. And I love you.
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