Coming out: My story

This column appeared in the Equity Buckfield newsletter issue #7 in April 2023.

I came out as a transgender woman at the age of 39.

I always knew I was different. From a very young age, I wished I was born with a more feminine body, and as I got older I began to try to figure out what was different about me. I was attracted to both girls and boys, so I thought I was bisexual. I liked jewelry and thought about wearing more feminine clothes, so I thought maybe I just liked drag. Trans women didn’t have a lot of representation back then: We had to piece things together all by our lonesome and usually very quietly.

Growing up in Buckfield and trying to figure out who I was, I was called many names; p**** and f***** among others. I remember being around one of my uncles who would call my cousin a f***** almost daily. It was such a hateful act from a father to a son. If my uncle felt that way, maybe others in the family also did? I hid deep in the closet. My biggest fear was losing family. What if my mom or dad felt the same way my uncle did?

On the outside, my behavior became toxically masculine. I did everything that I thought boys did, even if I couldn’t do it well. Every time I would fail I felt weak; as though I were less of a man.

By junior high I began to understand what transition was and wished I could just be me in the body I wanted. At that time, however, I could not be considered for any gender-affirming medical care unless I spent two years living as a woman while going through a male puberty without any medication. That just felt undoable. I was already teased enough.

The closest I had ever been to coming out was when my daughter was born. But my fears transferred onto my new family: Would her other mom accept me? Would my daughter? Would I still be able to be a part of my kid’s life? I stayed in the closet until my daughter was 13. When I finally I came out to her, she was glowing. She accepted me!

I now had to come out to my family and friends. My parents have been great, which is wonderful. My friend circle has gotten much smaller, but tighter. Most of my family stayed; my Grammy even gave me her name, Irene, as my middle name before she passed. My bigoted uncle, my aunt and my cousin won’t accept me and have since all but disowned me. They won’t even use my now-legal real name.

Some people are just not safe to come out to. It’s not our fault–and honestly shouldn’t be our problem–but it hurts. It’s hard dealing with loss of any kind, but boundaries are so important. In order to feel loved and valued, we need to be around those who love and value us.