TRANSGENDER
My Trans Safety or Your Cis Comfort
Scotty doesn’t know — to tell, or not to tell, that is the dilemma
There is much controversy and opinion around the narrative of when and how a transgender individual should (or shouldn’t) reveal their gender status. So much so, I could turn this into a series, and perhaps I will when I’m feeling a little more feisty. Right now, I’m tired. I’m several weeks into my ‘medical transition’ taking Testosterone (T) as part of my medically prescribed Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT), and my ‘friend’, let's call them Scotty, still doesn’t know. Why? That’s the million-dollar question.
Scotty Doesn’t Know, Don’t Tell Scotty
Yes, I chose the name Scotty just so I could include this line. You’re welcome!
Sure, sure… most of the controversial narrative about ‘revealing’ gender is in the context of new relationships, potentially relationships, sexual encounters, etc. Basically, completely fetishizing and sexualizing the transgender individual instead of considering them a person. But let’s forget all that for a moment and think about relationships in the context of real-life (as opposed to the chaotic imagination of transphobes). As a late-bloomer non-binary trans-masc person, I have long-standing friendships that have known me as a particular identity and representation. Like Scotty.
I would have loved to have shared my thoughts and experiences as easily with them as I did with other friends.
It’s not that I didn’t want to tell Scotty from the start. I would have loved to have shared my thoughts and experiences as easily with them as I did with other friends, but for some reason, that hasn’t happened. Scotty generously allowed me to stay with them during the COVID pandemic as I was in a position that meant I didn’t have anywhere to live. They don’t know I started questioning my gender almost a year ago. They don’t know I’ve been seeing a gender therapist and had one hell of a year of self-exploration. They certainly don’t know I now identify as non-binary trans-masc. They absolutely do not know I started HRT and have been on T for almost two months at the time of writing.
Why Doesn’t Scotty Know?
I’ve chosen to stay silent and now, I’m not sure how to bring it up, or if I even want to. Should I need to? Why would I need to? The only reason to even mention it is to explain why I seem so much happier, and as a pre-emptive explanation about why my voice is getting deeper and why my physical body seems to be morphing (albeit slower than continental drift — exaggeration? A little). In spite of everything they’ve done for me (and I’ve done for them over the years), I haven’t felt safe enough, or inspired enough, to share my journey with them. That’s messed up but it speaks volumes.
I haven’t felt safe enough, or inspired enough, to share my journey with them.
Do I think they would hurt me? Absolutely not. Do I think they would kick me out? I don’t believe so. Do I think they would judge me? Without a doubt! Do I think they will share that judgment? Does that even matter at this point?
I legally changed my name almost a year ago, but it wasn’t for the purpose of taking on a different gender or an un-gendered name. I changed my name to complete a break from the self that I no longer associated with or connected to. It was a slight ‘f you’ to my family, but mainly, it was the first step towards finding self. When I changed my name, Scotty took that on without question (they knew the familiar bonds I was breaking free from). But that’s my name. Gender and pronouns are a whole different ballgame.
Changing my name was a slight ‘f you’ to my family, but mainly, it was the first step towards finding self.
Why am I So Unsure About Scotty?
Over the last six months, I’ve attempted on several occasions to share my journey with them but at best, as I’ve dropped hints, I’ve sensed homophobic and transphobic commentary in their responses, and at worst, I was completely shut down when I scrounged up the courage to ask if I could share something. They’ve definitely got their own crap going on at the moment, I mean, who doesn’t? But the fact that I’ve been going through this journey for eleven months, sharing a house with this person for probably a total of five of those months (non-consecutively), really makes me wonder about the ‘friendship’ status. I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know what I should do.
Is the friendship something that I want to keep?
Yes. I think. No. Maybe. I don’t even know.
What does that mean? What does that tell me?
And why does this question of to tell, or not to tell, even matter? It shouldn't. I don’t tell them when I am getting new glasses. I don’t tell them when I am cutting or coloring my hair. I didn’t tell them before I had my lip pierced. I don’t tell them when I am getting new clothes or painting my nails or wearing a new necklace. Why should I have to tell them I am trans to pre-emptively prepare them for a physical change?
I wrote about this in another article last month — I spoke about the ‘Bombshell’ of coming out trans and how it is only a bombshell to those who weren’t ready to feel the excitement with me.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Because I didn’t trust you to let me explore this in the way I needed to and I didn’t trust myself to not allow you to easily sway me.
And here is the key — at least for me. I 100% want to share this with people (as opposed to tell them or come out to them) because I am excited about my journey. I’ve told people that I knew would be excited for me. I have not told people who I felt would not hold that same excitement — those who are more attached to the mask I wore in the identity and representation they knew rather than the person I am at my core. People like Scotty. But then I wonder… am I just making assumptions? There is more to this, and I’m far from done unpacking.
I want to share this because I am excited about my journey. I’ve told people that I knew would be excited for me.
One of my favorite queer writers on this platform, James Finn, wrote an article that I feel shares a similar sentiment at its core. I Wish Being Gay Weren’t the Biggest Part of My Life But I Have No Choice, resonated with me because James speaks of just trying to live life and having a label become all that is seen. Why should I have to label myself for someone else to understand when I am still, right here?
My gay identity does NOT matter much to me, not deep inside. Falling in love with other guys brings me deep joy and happiness. I cannot imagine a different way of being, so I don’t worry about it. I don’t feel different or strange where it counts, but all my life others have forced strangeness on me.
Will Scotty Ever Know?
So now my decision is, do I choose to at least try to keep the friendship? Am I trying to control the narrative by removing their possible opinion or is something in me willing me to hold on to a safety I’m not even sure I need? At the end of the day, it may not be my choice. Is this a secret? Am I keeping it a secret? Am I making it a secret? Or am I just embracing self-care and protection? This hasn’t helped at all. I wrote this to get clarity but now I’m more confused about why the hell I’m making it such a big deal. Where’s my therapist?
Why do we, transgender people, need to tell anyone, let alone a long-time friend, that we’re trans anyway? The whole concept of coming out or the gender reveal is rather lost on me when I’m living an experience that is mine — at the end of the day, it has nothing to do with anyone else. Our journeys are our own. Of course, any journey is better with others to share the excitement. But isn’t it the excitement of the journey (rather than the pointless steps) that we want to share? I don’t care that my gender is fluff. Gender is just one small part of who I am, and it’s not that big of a part. I guess I’m just scared Scotty won’t be excited, and wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth? Wouldn’t that be the end of our ‘friendship’?
