Transgender Stereotypes

“I thought it was a woman! But then I heard it speak, and he or she had a deep voice. It was strange.” Those were the words my mom exclaimed about a transgender woman she encountered in a grocery store. Prior to this encounter, I was uninformed about the true definition of the term transgender. Although I watched transgender people in roles on television as a child, I was oblivious to the existence of transgender individuals in the world around me. However, my mom’s account of the transgender woman in the grocery store caused me to experience an epiphany that incited me to learn more. I began to read articles and watch videos on the Internet that ranged from accounts about transgender teens being kicked out of their homes to stories about the
euphoria experienced after transitioning. The more I learned, the more connected I felt with transgender individuals. I eventually came to the realization that I am a transgender male.
This new awareness forced me to confront a difficult choice: I could repress the truth which would make my mom happy, or I could come out and risk losing almost everything I had in order to be happy and live authentically.
At first, I chose the easy route and rejected the fact that I am transgender, but with each passing day that I deluded myself, crippling despair took a stronger hold of me. I tried to adopt a feminine behavior, hoping that I would change. However, the despair became too overwhelming, so I decided that I must live authentically in order to be truly happy.
On May 15th, 2015, I quivered in fear as I placed my coming out letter into my mom’s hands, unsure if I would have a bed to sleep in that night. After reading the letter, my mom began to sob. I embraced her, and when she finally spoke, fear and anxiety pulsed through my body as I realized that my mom was unwilling to accept me as her son.
For months after May 15th, my mom refused to use the correct pronouns or name. She refused to allow me to cut my hair again or even step foot in the men's section of department stores. She took my phone for days at a time and checked my messages, because she was convinced someone was forcing me to be transgender. Meanwhile, my depression was
exacerbated.
Finally, in December, she started using male pronouns and calling me Jesse. She even contacted a gender clinic to help me with the process of transitioning. She also gave me her consent to cut my hair again and to buy men’s clothes. A year later, I started hormone replacement therapy. Once the testosterone took effect, I began to feel free. It was as though I had become emancipated from the slavery of my own body.
I gained a profound new level of confidence as my voice deepened. My depression disappeared and I felt at peace. The happiness was empowering, and I promised myself always to pursue the choices that will make me truly happy, even if they seem insurmountable. It was this commitment that allowed me to persevere through a rigorous academic schedule, five o'clock hockey practice on Monday mornings, and meet the demands that come with being an aspiring photographer.
During the months when my mom refused to accept me, the pain was intense. However, I am glad I was able to endure the difficult circumstances. I am now convinced that I can overcome any challenge if I continue to work hard and push through the difficult times. This new enlightenment has enabled me to continue to work towards obtaining my goals and dreams, even if I must travel through the underworld to achieve them.