Author: 💚brat💚

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Trans and a (former) Dancer

I miss ballet. I miss Irish dance. I miss being comfortable moving my body. The best I felt was when I danced like no one was watching which is pretty silly, but true. I used to love the feeling of having a good practice. I was in such a comfortable environment and space I had grown up with. Now it’s all changed. There’s no way for me to go back to how it was completely but I still wish to experience the joy that dancing gave me. I feel like a light has gone out in my heart and I don’t know how to get it back. If I did kind of know, I am too scared to act on it. I wish there was a space to dance for people like me.

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Why won’t you go to the pool with me?

I was 14 when people first commented on my chest. 

“Woah, I never noticed before, but you have big boobs!”

”Thanks?” I responded.

I was wearing a gray shirt that my mom bought me. I really liked the shirt, but its soft material happened to outline my chest. 

I was 15 when I first noticed boys looking at my boobs. They couldn’t see anything behind the fabric that covered them, but their eyes would always be below my eye line. 

I was 17 when I first decided I no longer wanted my boobs. 

Do I get top surgery? No, that was too extreme for a girl. 

Do I get a reduction? No, because what if I eventually want top surgery. 

If I ever decided on a surgery, how would I pay for it?

I was 18 when I stopped wearing regular bras and switched exclusively to sports bras.

I was 19 when I switched to ‘compression tops’. 

My chest has become a constant source of dysphoria that I’d like to disappear. 

As I continue through life and gain a bit of weight, my compression tops become tighter and tighter. 

When will it end?

When can I come to terms with my identity?

You won’t see me at the pool because ‘I’m not feeling well’ or ‘I have a bad sunburn.’

But really, it’s because of my insecurities and gender dysphoria. 

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Reproductive + Emotional Labor = Wishing I was a Boy

(Image of a boy who looks dirty while doing science while two girls who look clean are surprised and giggle) – Crazy picture by the way

I grew up as a big sister. This role consisted of my unpaid labor, such as housework and childcare. In my house lived my single mom who worked 12+ hours a day and my little sister that is 5 years younger than me. Growing up, my friends never wanted to come over because my mom would ask us to clean the house and I was never in a position to say no. At other friends’ houses, it was always to clean up after ourselves which I especially didn’t mind doing. But one day, I realized that boys my age were rarely given this responsibility.

It feels so dumb to think that I was so upset about cleaning, but the extent of unequal treatment I felt still persists today. I saw my male classmates running around outside while the girls stayed behind and pushed in our chairs, put our stuff away, and followed directions. I saw my friends’ brothers run to play video games right after a meal while my friends and I would scrape our plates and at least put them in the sink. I saw my male cousins never once offer to do dishes, and my aunt always accepted that she would after spending hours cooking a dinner that she didn’t even eat. 

On top of that, my parents have always expected me, as the big sister, to understand why they hate each other. My divorced parents put me in the middle of their ‘friendly communication’ for 15 years. I’ve heard whining from both sides about how awful and unreasonable the other is being, and I am supposed to give advice and agree. When I ignore it, they feel bad but continue a few hours later. It’s a loop I’ve been stuck in that gets better until it doesn’t (and trust me, I’ve tried EVERYTHING).

All the emotional and reproductive labor I have done in my life makes me wish I was born a boy (I’m delighted to think that all of the mental anguish I’ve been through could be resolved if so). Although it’s an unrealistic thought, it lets me imagine what could’ve been, without my life’s pervasive reproductive and emotional labor. I wish I was a boy without a care in the world, who could eat mud pies and play with worms. Instead, I had to be clean and calm which has defined my past.

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My Transmasc Experience with Discontinuous Unity

I was socialized as a girl and had to learn to undo the thinking and processes that held me back from being myself as since I was taught to fit in the role of “girl” from a young age. I was a performer in ballet and Irish Dance, and praised as a good one at that by both adults and my peers. Simultaneously, I became an expert at performing my assigned gender. That’s what my life was, dance and being a girl and a daughter and a niece and a sister– and femme. I didn’t know any different. I didn’t see myself as being able to be any different. I only did, said, dressed, and convinced myself to feel like a “girl” would. I had played so far into being a “girl” that I completely disconnected with my body and lost myself. I never considered who I wanted to be. The modality of femininity, ‘Discontinuous Unity,’ observed by Iris Mariam Young in “Throwing Like a Girl” perfectly describes how I felt in my adolescence with femininity. I felt like I was constantly in a spotlight– viewed by a crowd I couldn’t see, critiqued for not pointing my feet enough, and convinced my body must play the role of “girl” correctly.

It was years until I realized that I had been struggling with internal homophobia and transphobia. It was okay for others to be LGBTQ+, but not for myself? The convincing wasn’t good enough though, because as the world around me crumbled with my first sense of self-realization, I saw that nonbinary lesbian inside of me. It took me 16 years to understand that I wasn’t straight, and another 3 to realize I wasn’t a part of the gender binary. Those last 3 years were the toughest. Validating myself was one of the hardest things I’ve done and continue to do daily. It feels so crazy looking back and sometimes it feels so unequivocally dumb that I couldn’t find myself and still doubt myself, but this is what happened to me and I’m still trying to accept it. I see a sense of femininity still lingering in the jewelry I wear, my short hair that I can’t ever seem to like even when it’s an inch from my head, and the mannerisms I can’t seem to shake. I hope to use these parts of me to empower myself rather than promote disunity of my mind and body. This has been my personal journey from “Discontinuous Unity” to “Ambiguous Transcendence,” where I can freely be myself regardless of others’ views of me.

TLDR; Society pushed me into a role without my consent that led me to disassociate and play pretend as a straight girl until I learned I had free will.