Disclaimer: This piece will speak on various positive and negative feelings I experienced while figuring things out. It will elaborate on topics discussed in further detail within other articles (Holding my Hand, are you a trans athlete?), and is suggested you read those to fully understand this piece. Names of people, places, and other things will be given a pseudonym or general term (i.e. 'former friend', 'team a', 'university/college').
"What do you want to be?"
I heard the question again. Such a simple yet complex set of six words, and one that I had no answer to. Did I know who I wanted to be? Did I know who I was? How did I get here? I sat there spiraling at the words, with a fleeting answer escaping my grasp. I wouldn't give up this time though, I finally let the answer echo from my mouth.
...
Long before all of this though, I had never had that question truly be given to me in such a context. Sure, I was always asked things about me; "What are your hobbies?" or "Do you have a favorite band?", all things that defined me. These were things that I could answer to great lengths with fine details, and yet this phrasing of the question felt different. What did I want to be? College was less than a year away, and I'd be moving far from home. None of my friends were going to the same college as me, so it would be a true fresh start. I had seen my hobbies shift somewhat too; I found an interest in journaling and fashion, but nothing felt right on my body in the way that I wanted it to. I didn't want the traditional masculinity, but to be masculine in a feminine way, at least that's how I'd describe it to my girlfriend and my therapist.
I had never found that I aligned with masculinity anyways; I always felt more comfortable around other women or queer people. I had never considered anything special about it- it's nothing more than just my environmental comfort. I was always obsessed with not being like the other boys though. I loved my hair being long, I always prided myself in being more emotional, and I wasn't big on cars or sports.
I had never really thought much into gender identity until the social media promotion of pronouns. There I was, sitting there and fumbling around with the concept, finally putting 'He/They' in my bio. I felt so weird about it. Not because the concept was weird, but because it felt weird to push against the norm. I always went against the norm though; I'd pride myself in the way I dressed and how I held myself so why was this any different? It consumed any passing moment, a question so simple yet so confusing - and there it was again - "What do you want to be?". I dodged it. I talked about anything else; the games I played, the shows I was watching, politics, anything but my identity. She'd always try to bring it back around and I'd fight it. She wasn't forcing me to do anything though. The days blurred and meshed with the endless cycle of class and practice. I was never thinking about calculus or literature, I was thinking about the question. Every journal entry would have it written at the top and every journal entry would never answer it.
"What do you think?" my girlfriend had said to me, but I barely heard the words. She stood up after handing me the mirror while she went to go get water, but I wasn't focused on her. I wasn't focused on anything else but my own reflection. The charcoal grey eyeliner complimented my eyes nicely. She took her time with it, making the lines feel sharp and symmetrical. I thought it was subtle but pretty. Pretty. The word stumbled across my mind. She had started to use it recently to describe me. Handsome had always stung, and yet this felt so unbelievable. Is that what I wanted to be? Did I want to be pretty? I pulled up my journal. "What do you want to be? I want to be pretty.", I wrote it with a smile. I finally figured it out - this was the answer I had been looking for!
"What do you want to be?", she asked again. I tried to say it, but I felt my body turn stiff. At this point the question had become a reoccurance in conversation, a call without response. This time she followed up with something new: "Okay, what would help you achieve what you want to be?". My therapist has always been able to read my mind. That was the very question I had been asking myself. How can I be pretty? Nails, makeup, my style. They all contributed to this feeling, but something still felt off.
"You're such a pretty boy"
I hated hearing that. Why did I hate it? I liked being pretty, but why did this sting? My girlfriend and I had been talking back and fourth about my confidence for months. I complained about everything. I swam daily, I tried to diet more, I focused constantly on improving my body. But nothing felt right. She was tired of this, and who could blame her? She would suggest reasons, but one stuck out. Was it because I was too masculine? The question hit me like a wave. I couldn't focus during swim practice. I was surrounded with my own insecurities that I couldn't tune out. Did I not want to be a swimmer? Would that make me feel pretty? There was still something missing. The days cycled endlessly; weekdays ruled by swimming and class, weekends ruled by days with my girlfriend doing my makeup, and evenings with her doing my nails. It became tradition for us, but as I was dozing off with her things slowly clicked. I had considered myself genderfluid maybe, or non-binary, but finally I realized the missing piece.
"I think I'd make a pretty girl."
...
"I want to be a girl", I said, stumbling over the words. I repeated it again to my therapist. "I want to be a girl.". I began to tear up with the dorkiest smile. I talked about all the feelings I had; I talked about wanting to be pretty, about wearing clothes that fit me and eyeliner sharp like my girlfriend did. I wanted to become a pretty girl. For once my therapy session flew by. I was exhausted, but I felt so calm. I finally reached the evening and pulled up my journal.
"What do I want to be?"
No. That's not the question.
"What am I?"
"A girl."