Pretty, Little, Pixels (trans day of visibility 2023)

whoops, another trans issue <3 Happy Trans Day of Visibility

“That’s how I would wear my hair,” I proudly stated, while timidly pointing at a woman in her twenties, before I panicked and realized I forgot to add something I needed to add.

“You can wear your hair like that, if you want,” said the voice next to me. A voice that had brought me comfort and safety for years. The prettiest voice I had ever heard.

Becca’s voice carved through everything inside of me, bubbly, happy, but with the perfect blend of highs and lows. Her voice has always given me pause. It’s just what voices are suppoed to sound like.

“You would have to brush it though, which I know you don’t like doing. You’ve always hated brushing your hair,” Becca said, while running her soft fingers through my hair.

I blushed. I thought about how soft her hands felt in my hair. And then I felt sick inside, just for a moment, because I felt her fingers get stuck on my hair, but only barely. Her fingers were so soft in my hair but they got stuck because of the texture difference. It wasn’t dirty or anything. I just had the hair I was assigned at birth — and that combined with a million other revolting, internal reactions toward my own body, throughout every second of my life, had always made me want to die.

It’s hard not to disassosciate sometimes when you feel like you’re in the wrong body and so I’ve accidentally vacated my eyes many times before this moment. Even when the prettiest girl in the world was running her hands through my hair.

“Baby, I would help you brush your hair if you wanted to have long hair. And we could get it cut in a way that frames your face good too,” Becca said slowly, as she sqeeuzed my left hand and pushed my short, guy-styled bangs out of my eyes.

She squeezed my hands while adding, “Guys can totally have long hair. And it can be soft and fun and it’ll be so fun. We can do it together, too!”

“Oh yeah,” I added quickly, realizing that I had accidentally disassociated.

Even worse, I didn’t know how long I was gone this time. It was usually just for a few quick seconds but the departures were getting longer as AMAB (Assigned Male at Birth) puberty had continued, against my will the entire time.

“I just meant like, you know, if I was a girl then I would do that hairstyle and ponytail. It’s like, pretty but sloppy, you know? When women do that, I just think it’s so cool because it’s like they’re saying they’re pretty and know they are but they’re tough and don’t need to be, too.

I was prepared to suffer while looking like a cute, boyish 20 year old but my body was still changing, even though I spent all my energy wishing it wouldn’t and squeezing body parts inward, like my shoulders, legs, and “hips.” (As long as I can remember, i would try to pull and squeeze my body together so it would … work? and make me less masculine appearing.)

EDITOR’S NOTES REGARDING THE PICTURE EATING CEREAL: DYYYKE <3

I had googled the other day that people assigned male at birth experienced the effects of male puberty until they’re almost thirty. I couldn’t believe it. It had been a few days since I learned that information but I just couldn’t handle it. It was like someone had replaced my jaw with Jell-O, and I was still expected to form words and continue on, after learning my fate was just … going to get worse.

“Yeah, women are cool. And fierece,” Becca added, with her cute, tough inflection, that she had always added whenever she labeled herself fierece. Something she had done since we were in high school and still dating, and I “dared” to call her cute repeatedly. She told me she was tough and not cute but I insisted — so we settled on fierece.

“I wish more guys thought like you and thought it was cool when women did things for themselves,” Becca finished, before the conversation shifted to what movie we were going to see.

It was difficult even with Becca, my partner that I have been with almost all of my life, to talk about my gender, sexuality, and who I was. Not because of anything she had done or said.

In fact, she had always been supportive of anything I’ve done with how I dressed and presented myself. Previous to transtioning and coming out, I had acted as a feminine male, and she always supported that.

But I wasn’t even visible to myself, because I was never allowed to be, long before I met Becca.

Like all closeted trans people, I was uncomfortable with long silences, scared to talk about things that were important to me, and nervous discussing things that centered around art, such as music, films, paintings, and photography.

After repeatedly trying to convince my parents I was a girl at ages four, five, and six and losing every single battle over “feminine” things that I wanted to do and like anyway, despite them already having declared my gender what they decided it to be.

I tried to tell them my favorite colors were “pink or maybe purple, but definitely yellow and green too. I like pretty, bright colors” but my mom said my favorite color was blue.

You can see it in my eyes though, at a young age and a high school age -

… no matter what, i wasn’t there and i just wanted to be. and i just wanted …

to have been given a chance to be present in my own life, like everyone wants and deserves

I tried to tell them that I liked ballet, gymnastics, coloring, painting, making stars and flowers with my Lite Brite, and stacking my Mega Blocks together to build fake heels, so I could pretend to be a Spice Girl.

My mom and dad gave my Lite Brite away to a cousin, or threw it away? All I remember is that it was forbidden. I was discouraged from coloring and drawing, something I loved so very much. I wasn’t allowed to listen to Spice Girls or any music featuring girls. I was instead, as a small child, encouraged to partake in my dad’s music, which included Rush, Yes, and Led Zeppelin. Later the guy that my mom cheated on my dad with (his name was Scott) showed me AC/DC and other music from that time. This was all considered acceptable, even though the vocals from AC/DC frightened me and gave me nightmares that I was being dragged into hell in my sleep.

The only things that I picked out that were MY DECISIONS that I was allowed to make? Video games, rock music, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (April <3), and scary movies, especially with gore. Those were all fine actually, including the PlayStation port of Duke Nukem Total Meltdown, which featured curse words, violence, and almost-nudity.

ALL FINE and okay. Anything but The Little Mermaid and Spice Girls.

But when you grow up invisible to yourself, you uhhhh, kind of don’t actually exist!

I mean, think about it. If the only parts of yourself that are real are the parts that other people created, then who you are when no one else is around?

Fuck, who are you AT ALL?

Who can you be, when every single thing you are is a lie that was inserted from someone else, for their own comfort?

What are you left with, in the wake of loud waves of nothing, crashing into your birth and death endlessly, while you stare out into the ocean you wish you could feel?

The last picture I took of myself before coming out all of the way and starting Hormone Replacement Therapy. This picture was taken about a week or two before 10/31/21.

On October 31, 2021, when my wife got home from work, I hugged her in the kitchen and told her I was a woman and ready to schedule an appointment for starting Hormone Replacement Therapy. I told her I understood it would be scary and difficult at times, because of how women are treated and how trans people are separated and marginalized even further.

But I also told her that I was tired of having to use fake answers with almost everyone, including her, because I was often lying to myself every moment of the day.

It was impossible not to lie to her since I was lying to myself the entire time. And all of these lies and fake, constructed pieces of myself, handed to me by everyone around me, from age 4 and on, were not real pieces and that I wanted to pick out the real parts of me and tell her who I fully am.

I wasn’t surprised when she just cried and fully accepted me. I knew she would. She always had. And even though, we spent most of our lives closeted (her squishing down her pansexuality and me being a closeted trans lesbian), we knew each other the entire time, being more vulnerable and honest together than we could be with ourselves and others. We were still at the warm center of a passionate and long relationship between two queer women.

you’ll never read this Dad but i was a cool kid that you repeatedly killed instead of giving me a chance to breathe. an endless, ongoing murder that gave you what you wanted.

I was just pretending to be a silly, straight guy for ~12 years while she was pretending to be a silly, straight girl — but we were in love the entire time.

There are many days that I feel fear because of what is happening around me. My state wants me to die. My state wants me to go back to feeling like everyone else’s idea of comfort and compliance, which is really sad for a lot of reasons, but even stupid, boring, capitalism-y reasons.

Before I socially and medically transitioned, I struggled with a lot of things that made it more difficult to do basic tasks, which made holding a job harder, doing jobs well, learning new things, and just about anything you can imagine. (last issue goes into a little bit more detail on this)

After coming out, I’ve regained the ability to read and comprehend sentences on the first try again, which includes the ability to visualize things in my mind again, which in itself has helped make me tremendously more effective at every task.

And I could do a giant list (maybe I will sometime) of all the “powers” I gained after simply being in control of my body and mind again, after having the severed link between the two healed.

if more people fought for queer rights like my partner always has, this world would be safe for both of us

In the time since coming out though, I have felt more alive every single day, feeling visible to myself, which has allowed to breathe so much more life into my existence and days.

I don’t know how much longer it will be safe to be a visible trans woman, but I am going to do it as long as I safely can — because I have never felt more alive and present in my life, even with all the legislative fires, burning brightly and coming for my community all over the country.

I cannot think of anything more cruel or sad than a person dying without ever living.

Trans people are people and deserve human rights, just like any other group of people.

On this Trans Day of Visibility, I would like to leave you with the following:

• if you’re a cis gender: please imagine watching a stranger live their life in your body, while you’re confined to a fire that is barely lit in the corner of a dark, cold room, watching your friends and family all acknowledging and comforting the person using your body. An imaginary stranger that you were forced to make up, because it was that or die. That is what trans people face. No one deserves that fate, not even cis gender people that don’t speak up for us. It is never too late to start doing the right thing and to start speaking up for trans people and kids. You can start today and I will tell you I am proud of you.

• if you’re trans/queer and closeted: I care about you and I see you. I know it is a scary time to consider coming out, and I can’t speak on how safe it is for you in your personal life and environment, but I can say this: when people in movies and stories say that it’s better to live one more day than die a thousand deaths, right before they rush off to fight some big threat, they mean it. I don’t always feel safe but I always feel alive now <3

• if you’re trans/queer and already out: it feels good to breathe, doesn’t it? each one of these breaths is less guaranteed than it was before but doesn’t it feel great? hang in there <3 you got this, pal. I’m yelling at my father in law to stop watching F*x news too. I lost my biological parents and a lot of my family when I came out too. I know it’s not easy being where we are but WE ARE ALIVE AND HERE <3 and doesn’t it feel wonderful. <33 AND DOESN’T IT -FEEL- too? <33

i’m alive every single day, regardless of any fear i may feel, and i used to feel like i was in the sunken place, watching someone else live my life. never again.

protect trans kids and protect adults like me too