A Man in There

I identified as NB before realizing I was trans, and I still feel pretty much like I’m NB inside. I’m pursuing T though, using he/him pronouns, and I’m looking forward to being read as a guy physically.

Originally when I realized all this, I called myself trans simply out of accuracy, as I am nonbinary and therefore not “just the girl” that I was assigned at birth. I hadn’t necessarily planned to transition. But over this summer, the female self inside me has faded rapidly into almost nothing. Leaving just the core male self within a female body. That is, of course, a problem. When I had a female self that could handle being treated like a woman, however tired it was of handling that, I could go on as a woman in society–depressed, aimless, but functional. It’s gone.

I thought I’d be alright with women’s clothes and accessories longer than I was. I haven’t been able to bring myself to wear them for months now. With the exception of some masc-looking women’s skinny jeans, I only want to wear guy’s clothes now, even underthings and socks. I was surprised how repulsed I started feeling at the touch of women’s clothes on me.

I’m just a guy in there now. And as much as I know I have a perfectly fine woman’s body, it’s like waking up in a delightful foreign costume that you’re ready to get out of in pretty short order. And you can’t. You have to wait, and wait, and wait, and make calls, and fight with strange doctors; you have to do internet research and use all your cunning to get medical receptionists to behave, have things faxed, get blood drawn, scrape together money; you have to figure out if you’re nuts or if this is real, hold off haters with one hand while thinking up a guy name you can live with; you have to worry about losing friends and getting bashed in the street and how you’ll ever afford insurance and if you’ll be fired when your beard starts to grow.

And all the while, you WANT IT. You want the guy body to match the guy inside you. Every single goddamn day you want it more, like wanting to get a tight, itchy costume off and relax. Every day becomes an exercise in zen, as you lose patience a bit more, but simultaneously discover awesome new people and have validating realizations about your past.

And if you liked guys before and still do, you get to realize that you are, in fact, gay. You also get to learn that some gay guys are shitheads about trans men. You win some, you lose some, I guess.

I don’t know how I’ll feel when I get on T for awhile, obviously. I might suddenly realize I’m a binary man. I’d honestly be surprised, though. It feels like there’s a serious femme streak in me, or that I’m bigender, or genderqueer in a pretty permanent way.

That said, some of the dudes’ clothes I wear now are pretty femme. And I still paint my nails sometimes, though more and more it’s just black or a darker color.

I seem to be holding the course of wanting to present physically more masculine, so that femme guys’ clothes read as non-binary or gender-non-conforming-man on me, and not scream “woman!” But maybe on T, things will utterly change. I’d feel a bit guilty for abandoning the NB label, after believing in it so much. We’ll see.