Some Days I Really, Really Do Not Want to Be Trans

Some days I really, really do not want to be trans¹.

If I could choose, I would not be trans at all. It’s not something I particularly want. If there was a choice, I would simply choose to be a (cis) woman.

But I don’t get that choice. My choice is to choose to be trans, and have an identity which for me is femme — or for simplicity female, or woman.

I’ve tried to choose not to be trans but it didn’t work out.

And really, it’s not that I choose to have an identity. It’s that society demands I choose. Therefore I choose female. Because what they say I am, I am not. Female is a much better fit.

But really, I’m just me. That’s all I want to be. I want to be me. And apparently that is trans.

But “no, society demands you choose male” — I hear a voice say. Because, “you know, _biology_”.

And there we come to the heart of it. Because this is all about definitions and giving into demands. And I have tried. But I couldn’t. And I am not a biology. I’m a somebody.

A long time ago I realised that being what someone else wants instead of what is is fucking dangerous. It’s the road to destruction, a complete dead end. And I have since spent a long time making the most authentic choices I could day by day.

I’ve made mistakes, thinking I should do what they say after all. And I tried to U-turn back into the ‘loving’ arms of those that wanted me to fit in with their ideas of what I am (whether they knew me or not).

Ironically, other trans and queer people have been equally demanding of who I should be.

But in the end I just had to choose what felt right. No matter what. And it sucks. Because everyone around me said it was wrong. Because of reasons. Because that’s just the way the world is.

And it was very isolating. Is very isolating.

No. I won’t give in. I will be me even if…

And I don’t know why I’m trans. I don’t think anyone does. All I know is that I chose it somehow before I came to life. Before I was born. At some higher level. I have a memory and a deep undeniable truth that I chose to come here and be trans.

So maybe I can blame god. Or maybe I can blame myself.

Or maybe.. Maybe I can learn to accept it. Even when it sucks so hard that I think it ruined my life. Except there’s a lot of things I can point my finger at and say “that ruined my life” too.

I think in the end, acceptance is all we have. It’s the only real choice. Either that, or hell.

And I’ve been there. I’ve been in the hell of denial. The hell of self-blame. The hell of other people’s truths.

I have to work on it so much. Acceptance is pretty much the last item on the Official List Of Things That Might Help When You Are In Suffering. Instead, they want you to fix it. I wanted to fix it. It doesn’t work.

And what I have been finding most recently, in the last few years, is that acceptance has nothing to do with identity.

Acceptance is not about that. What I’ve found is the more I accept Me, the more I come to love myself the way I am, and the less I care about identity. The less I care about what other people think. I care less². But I do have more compassion. More love for me. Love for other trans people. And even love for the anti-transes.

It’s not that I excuse anyone’s shitty behaviour. Or give them space in my life to tell me what’s true, or not. But I understand that they too must be in hell. A different flavour of hell, but still hell. A hell of judgement and unworthiness. Maybe a hell of unconscious questioning of their own gender or sexuality. Maybe.

I do want them to behave better towards others, to accept me as I am learning to accept myself. But I’m not bothered what they think. They can think what they want. Because so can I.

But yes. Today, I do not want to be trans. Today I hate it. But trans is allowed. Not wanting it is allowed. I just won’t fight it today. I don’t want it to become a not-wanting identity. Tomorrow I will likely feel better about it again. It’s just something passing through. A bit of healing perhaps³.

Trans is what I am. But it’s not my identity. In living my life as best I can, I am continuing to walk that path, because it’s the path that feels best to me.

And I don’t know what any of that means. I don’t understand it. I don’t even accept it half the time. But it is what it is. And I can’t change that.

I have to accept it. That is the path laid out before me. And I am choosing to courageously walk it.

⁴