Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out (8 page)

I just felt so, so indescribable. I was happy. Here I was, sixteen, still in high school, and feeling great.

He said, “You don’t look like a girl. I really don’t think you can pass as a girl.”

“Well, I think I do.”

There came a time when I had to take everything off. That really, really hurt. It was sad to see Christina go away.

My brother was dating a boy whose mother was transgender. He said, “My boyfriend’s mom is transgender. She dresses like a girl and everything. She has the boobs and the hair and the body.” When he showed me a picture of her, I was like, Wow, it is actually possible to change into a woman.

I can’t remember exactly when I did it, but one day I typed
transsexual
into Google.
Transsexual
is another way of saying transgender. The site said, “When a man or a woman, or vice versa, feels that they were born in the wrong body, and they want to be the opposite sex.” And there were a whole list of things, like, if you want to wear women’s clothes, if you wish you were born a woman — I can’t really remember everything exactly — but if you are these things, then you’re transgender. This connected with me.

I thought,
Maybe it’s possible that I can do this.
But I wasn’t sure how to take the leap forward, especially because my mom still thought I was straight. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I didn’t want her to start going crazy or emotionally disown me. She didn’t disown my brother, but it kind of, like, felt that he was disowned. It did.

My dad didn’t care. He’s a very accepting, very open person. When Jonathan came out to my mom, she said, “Don’t you dare tell your father! He’s going to flip out.”

My brother was, like, “I told dad before I told you! And
he
took it way better than you ever did.” My mom was really surprised. I mean, I’m telling you, nobody had a clue about Jonathan.

I saw another counselor, a man, at my school. He asked, “Matthew, how do you see your life?”

“I don’t know. I just want to finish college and get a job and have a husband. I just want to be a housewife. I want to cook and I want to clean. I want to take care of the kids. I want to do all that.”

“You know what you sound like? You sound like a traditional woman.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything that you’re saying is from a woman’s perspective. Staying home, cooking, taking care of kids. That’s what women do, traditionally. That’s what they were known to do.”

“Okay, then, I guess I’m a traditional woman.”

At that point, I had done my research. I told him, “I want to be a woman, but I’m very scared to do it. I’m afraid I’d be rejected by society, and that would make my life worse.”

“Well, whatever you do, you should do it after high school.”

“Okay.”

Then I read that if you wait too long, the hormones are not going to be as effective. If you take hormones at sixteen, you’re basically going through another puberty stage. When you take hormones at forty, it kind of doesn’t have the same effect. When you’re sixteen, you’re still growing. If you replace your hormones, you won’t grow as tall or your bones won’t be as big. That’s why I wish I had started at sixteen. I wouldn’t be so tall. I didn’t get hormones until I was eighteen, which is when Callen-Lorde allows you to do it.

At this point, only my school counselor and my brother knew that I was planning to transition. My brother knew a lot of transgender girls. He took me around to the Village (Greenwich Village), the Village Pier on Christopher Street, where there are lots transgender girls. They fascinated me. They looked so real. This has always been my worry: Am I going to look real? I don’t want to
not
look real, because, I mean, what’s the point?

When I told my best friend, Hoay, that I wanted to become a girl, he said, “No, don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because God made you a boy for a reason. And if he made you this way, it’s for a purpose.”

“Well, what’s my purpose? I have no idea what my purpose is as a boy. I’m not going to have a kid. I’m not going to marry a woman.”

“You told me that you are gay and now you’re saying you’re transgender. Why can’t you just be a gay man?”

I told him that I
thought
that I was gay because I was attracted to men. But I’m attracted to straight men, not gay men. Before I educated myself about what being transgender really is, I thought that I must be a gay person.

The Google site said, “Sexual orientation has nothing to do with gender identity. There are gay transgenders and there are straight transgenders.”

That was something really hard for the boys to grasp. It took at least two years for Hoay to get accustomed to calling me
she,
to actually believe I was a woman, to see me as a woman.

Transitioning is a very long process. We go through stages. First we look like a man. Then we go through gender bending. And eventually we look like a woman. Gender bending is when you don’t look like a male and you don’t look like a female. You’re changing from one gender to another.

My hair was short. With short hair, I looked like a boy. I had to grow it out. Because I was gender bending, I started to dress feminine. But I still looked like a boy. People would say to me, “What are you?” Total strangers.

I loved the attention back then. It’s really weird. It’s really weird because now if people think I’m a man, it sometimes turns me into a very violent person. I’ve gotten into countless fights with people.

I know — that’s masculine.

My hair grew long pretty fast. I dyed it red, cut it to my jaw, and then got bangs. I had to shave constantly — ugh, that’s so annoying. I wore tighter clothes, but they were boy clothes. I didn’t plan on telling my mom. I wanted her to figure it out for herself.

I tried to think of ways to make me look more feminine. I bought a lot of pink things. The thing that made my mom think I was gay was that my cell phone was attached to a key chain that had pink beads, hearts, and a little bunny. It was clearly for a girl.

My mom said, “We’re going to your godparents’ house. Can you do me a favor and take that thing off your phone?”

“Why? Why can’t I have this on my phone?”

She said, “Because that’s for girls.”

“Who said this is for girls? Why can’t a boy have it? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

She got fed up. “Okay, Matthew, I know you’re gay. But that doesn’t mean you have to show the whole world you’re gay.”

“Actually, Mom, I’m not gay.”

“You like girls?”

“No.”

“So you like boys?” She looked so confused.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re gay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well, what are you?”

“Have you ever seen those people on
Maury
? The
Maury
show? Have you ever seen those people? ‘
Is it a guy? Is it a girl?
’ Well, that’s me. I’m transgender.”

“What is that?”

“I have a gender identity disorder, and I want to become a girl.” (I had diagnosed myself.)

She was, like, “Okaaaaay, can you do me a favor and try not to show it as much?”

“Okay.” I did her a favor and took the bunny off my cell phone.

Sometimes I feel that my mom misses her son. She doesn’t tell me, but my brother told me he heard her crying about it one night. She misses her son. I told her, “I’m still the same person. I just look different.” I don’t understand why she feels the way she does because I’m not a parent.

Once my mom knew, it was time to start making my moves. I told my dad. He said, “I always knew it.” I started crying because I had been so scared of his reaction. He said, “I love you. It doesn’t matter to me. I knew since you were a little kid that you always wanted to be a girl. And I knew it was coming.” He’s great.

Senior year was fast approaching, and I had a lot of work to do.

My senior year was my best and worst year in high school. The day before school started, I got my nails done. Pink. It was the first time I got my nails done, and I was so excited about it. To hide them from my mom, I walked around the house like this.

Eventually, my mom saw my nails and completely freaked out about it. “
Oh, my God,
why did you get your nails done?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“You’re going to get in trouble. You’re going to get hurt. Somebody’s going to hurt you, baby.” She wanted me to take them off.

“No, Mom, I’ll be fine.” They were acrylic, and I was not going to take them off.

I was so excited about the first day of school. I was so excited that I was actually starting the transition. I blew out my hair. I put on my makeup: purple eye shadow, mascara, blush, lip liner, and lipstick. Put on my blue button-down shirt, my tie, and my khaki pants. Seniors are required to wear gray sweaters. Before school started, I took my sweater to the tailor and said I wanted to make it tight and feminine. He made it really tight for me. Everybody else’s sweaters were baggy.

That first day I walked outside, people just stared at me. I loved the attention. I didn’t think I looked like a girl yet, but there was something about people acknowledging me, wondering what I was, that made me happy.

I walked through the school gate and into the auditorium. People’s jaws dropped. I walked down the aisle, saying, “Hi . . . hi there . . . oh, hey.” I was so happy. I wasn’t worried anymore. I was being me.

People were going, “What
is
he doing?”

The principal was telling us what classes to go to. I just sat there, so happy, with my purse — my big, black purse. I walked to class swinging it, and my friend was going, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m a girl.”

“Okay, you’re crazy.”

“Well, I just want to be a girl.”

And he was, like, “But aren’t you gay?”