Fiddlehead fern. ©Skyler Lemay 2024
I remember being in a High School youth group, almost always more comfortable talking with the other girls. Then we would break up into gender segregated discussion groups for whatever the topic was at the time. We were reading some religious treatise around gender norms. It was written by a wife and her husband, each writing their own book. Supposedly, it was a call to action of how best to model our gender the “way god intended.” I didn’t get any of the discussions of how to be a man. I remember going up to the leader and asking if I could hang out with the girls, and being told that it wasn’t a possibility. They were my friends. We talked about life. I didn’t like being stuck in a group of boys. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
This was one of so many moments where my gender experience felt wholly out of place. I consistently struggled in social circumstances. I struggled to connect with and to relate to men. At gatherings of parents, I always gravitated to spend as much time as possible with the moms. Relating with them and talking about life just clicked. I was still perceived as an outsider, but it was the closest I could get to the social connections I desired. I’d often be in the kitchen, seeing how I could help with food prep or clean up. Unfortunately, my perceived gender would inevitably end up in the way at some point in time. I don’t blame any of them—they had legitimate societal reasons for boundaries. Unacknowledged gender dysphoria is brutal.
Fast forward so many years including 3 years since I started working through all the gender things. I recently saw a good friend after lots of schedule juggling. We both got big smiles on our face and excitedly had a long hug before starting to catch up and make dinner together. We celebrated some exciting personal wins together, and commiserated in some sadly unexpected manifestations of misogyny. Dinner in the backyard was delightful as we enjoyed a rather warm evening continuing to engage in each other’s lives. As the evening wrapped up, we tackled the dishes and packed up leftovers while continuing the conversation.
I was struck with the juxtaposition of these experiences while talking with my girlfriend. Unpacking my gender and the experiences of being socialized as trans is a never ending experience. Things shift. New perspectives are identified. I continue to grow and embrace who I am. It’s wonderful to have so many of the obstacles preventing these experiences removed. I’m someone who craves touch as a means of connection, including lots of platonic touch where consensually desired/appreciated. The ability to have a platonic excited long embrace is something I cherish. In my experience, boys were always weary about most touch thanks to toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia. Prior to transition, I was always anxious and constantly aware of how I was hugging women, for how long, and not wanting to make them uncomfortable. I wanted to experience that touch, but was aware of the crap they also had to constantly be aware of. I didn’t want anything to be creepy or perceived as sexual. I just wanted to hug my friends. Having that internal dialogue and constant micro-measuring of circumstances is exhausting. The added intersectionality of being AuDHD and struggling to know if I’m reading certain social cues correctly further exacerbated this. The connection I so desperately craved was drained to a vestige of its potential—always just out of reach. There were several years where I just gave up on seeking that connection; it seemed like a pointless pursuit that I would never be able to satisfy.
This is something I largely don’t think of anymore. It’s wonderful, especially when I am able to contrast these juxtaposed experiences. Many of the things which felt so foreign and stressed are no longer relevant. That source of constant noise in my subconscious has gone quiet. Transition is so much more than any physical changes—though having the right hormone for my brain is pretty incredible. I can be present in my body and my relationships. I am finally at home in my body and self. That is something I didn’t even know was possible or what it would feel like 4 years ago.