I'm not transgender because
A letter to my mother for trans visibility day, that I know she’ll never see.
I’m not transgender because when I was a child I wanted a remote control car. I’m transgender because when, that year, you bought two for my brother and a dollhouse for me, I blamed myself for not being able to appreciate it anyway. Because I thought something was wrong with me. Because it stung more than it should have.
I’m not transgender because I never liked to wear dresses. I’m transgender because the day you drove me to that party and asked me to put on that pretty new dress, I chose instead to wait in the car, crying and alone, because for reasons I couldn’t understand the fact that they wouldn’t allow me inside otherwise terrified me.
I’m not transgender because one of my happiest middle school memories was the day a girl asked me out. I’m transgender because regardless of whether or not I was attracted to her, the fact that she had mistaken me for a boy long enough to ask me out didn’t bother me like it “should have”. Because when I later told you about it and you gave me that sympathetic look and said you were sorry, I didn’t understand why you weren’t laughing. Why you weren’t happy like I was.
I’m not transgender because I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. I’m transgender because after years of struggling to accept my body I can finally say with some amount of confidence that it’s a good one, and the only thing wrong with it is that it’s wasted on me.
I’m not transgender because I want to be. I’m transgender because I am, and I’m just sorry it took me so long to have the courage to tell you. Because after a lifetime of struggling to find some joy in playing at being the “daughter you always wanted”, I happened to discover that yes, some traditionally “feminine” things can be enjoyable too.
But dresses are just dresses, mom. Toy cars are toy cars. Attraction is attraction.
I wish you would just trust me.