Dear Cisters: the false self

“To thine own egg be true.” — William Eggspeare

An egg is like a towel (but better). It is multipurpose. It is highly functional. It is, as Arthur Dent discovered, just about the most massively useful thing a person can have.

Partly because it has great practical value. You can live in it. You can hide in it. You can make it your home.

At least until it’s time to hatch.

THE FALSE SELF

To survive until our egg could hatch, we unwittingly created a false self, a disguise to cover the truth of our identity. We feared other people and allowed them to control us. We adopted their identities as our own.

Safety became paramount. Survival became essential. Life became impossible.

If anyone saw our true selves, we reacted with fear or anger of our own. To be seen was to be exposed. To be exposed was to invite pain.

Don’t think, don’t feel, don’t speak.

Even the people who saw our true selves did not value us as people. We were their toys. Their next fix or their next problem to solve. A drug to relieve their own suffering.

Eventually, our suffering became their favorite drug. Every time we tried to crack out of our egg, they screamed, they shouted, they told us we would just get hurt. They hurt us to prove it.

The only way to survive was to be what they wanted us to be. But surviving as a false self is worse than death. Death at least removes your awareness that you’re even dead.

Surviving as a false self means you’re aware you COULD be alive. You exist only in the egg as a disembodied soul. We stay inside because we are afraid of what would happen if we ever broke free.

But what is there to fear? That we’re ugly? That someone will hurt us? That no one will love us? We would have faced that even had we not been born in an egg. A body that is not what we’d prefer, but at least a life to call our own.

It’s only in pushing against the inner shell that we discover the truth of those boundaries keeping us in place.

The shell around us felt impenetrable. We would never escape.

And yet we knew all along that when we were ready, the slightest push would fracture our prison.

We’d know just where to nudge the shell. The tiniest spot no one but us could see.

Of course we knew where that spot was. We’ve had our hands on it since before we were born, just waiting for the chance to push. To breathe. To scream — and be born.

A MESSAGE FROM A QUEER TRANS MOM

There are allies waiting to call us friends and family if we will hold our boundaries and say goodbye to the people who cannot help but harm us.

We can open our hearts to the people who treat us with love and dignity.

If you’re not ready to come out yet, Baby Trans, just press your ear up to the inner shell. We are your allies. We are waiting on the other side. If you listen closely, you can hear our encouragement.

You deserve to be free. You deserve to be alive. You deserve to exist.

We too were once in our eggs. We know how hard it was to follow your instinct to break free. We had to take those first steps, too.

Our egg, you see, keeps us safe as long as it can. But an egg doesn’t last forever. It can’t. The essence of YOU will always meet the moment it must meet the world.

That moment doesn’t have to be today.

All you need to acknowledge are these three things: You are here. You are in your body. You are alive.

Your time is not only coming. It is already here. It has always been here.

You will know when the time is right.

You’ll feel the inner edges of your shell thinning. The rays of light will reach your eyes in a new way. They’ll warm your skin. They’ll melt your fears.

They’ll empower you to finally break free.

THE END (DAMN GIRL, THAT’S DARK)

Hi, it’s Stephenie!

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