080318: Pilot
Let me tell you about my story: I’m a transgender male. Twenty years ago, I was born a female. Yes, female. I have a mother, brother and stepfather with whom I live with and will fight anyone grit and teeth to protect. I have everything I could possibly need and have been blessed (not religiously) with a good home. I was raised to wear feminine clothing like cute tops, and skirts, shirts that show my “natural curves” (even though I believe all curves on ANYONE are natural and absolutely lovely (; ) and that skinny jeans and jeggings were the answer to every wardrobe situation. I - even though it wasn’t outright said - was taught that long hair and a pretty smile with a good heart and good morals were what guys like the best. I was taught many things from a single mother who earned her living through cooking meals for construction workers, cleaning homes and babysitting kids every so often. She did the best she could with me and I wasn’t always a handful like the usual teenager. Don’t get me wrong, her teachings weren’t wrong. I was born a girl after all and she only raised me as any other female would. As my grandmother did with her and as her mother did before her, etc. Yet, I decided to come forward and tell her I wanted to be a boy. That the little girl she had groomed into being a woman was in fact a boy, wanting to be a man. But before all that, I was just a girl. And yet, I wasn’t. Yeah I wore skirts, wore a lot of pink and flip flops and cute feminine outfits but that didn’t mean I enjoyed it. I fought my mother on wearing all those things. I didn’t like the way air would run through my legs when I wore skirts. I didn’t like when these lumps of fat called “boobs/breasts” would growing out of my body and I really was annoyed having to wear a bra that was never comfortable. I mean, those things really dugged themselves in my chest cavity like they were trying to find freaking gold. I never really understood hygiene - at least not until later and after a lot of smellterventions (smell interventions). To me, being a girl and a good one at that was... difficult and overrated. Don’t get me wrong, girls are good and pretty and soft and strong and hella goddess but it wasn’t getting it. It’s like in the shows when the protagonist is forced to be the next heir in the family company and they find out that that’s not what they want. Like I was being told that the sky was green when it’s blue all along. It took me a hell of a long time to find who I wanted to be. Who I was meant to be. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. And trust me, this isn’t all of it. I just hope that this helps someone. If anyone reads this, then you’re going to want to stay tuned in because I have 17 (seventeen) years to tell.
