In the grand scheme of things, 2022 was dreadful. Summer heatwaves that made the ground sweat, and an autumn that never really happened. A country governed by liars, fools and cheats who are seldom held to account. Nestle tried to remove the Bounty from a tin of Celebrations, a constitutional war crime.
On a personal level however, 2022 was revolutionary. I sought counselling after putting it off for many years, and it has proved to be insightful and revelatory. I’ve said the word “love” to family and friends more than I ever have before. I decided to stop living in denial. I decided to embrace my true identity instead of burying it in fear, shame and loathing. I decided that I must live my one life on my terms.
I am trans. I am pansexual. I am queer.
Accepting these fundamental pieces of myself has been the greatest act of self-care that I have ever dared to commit. Denying my identity for much of my formative years has left an open wound on my mental health, has stunted my relationships with others, and has left me at times dissociative and cold. I engage in futile reflection on the years I could have spent more confidently, or on the opportunities missed while I played the part of a man wearing masculinity like an unwanted sweater.
I lived so many years under a heavy veil of envy. Longing for the euphoria of a light dress. The comradery and honesty of female friendship. Weight and absence in all the wrong places. These things are not at all exclusive to the female experience, but I couldn’t help but feel a disconnect between my inner self and my outer shell.
Acknowledging and accepting my identity felt like a boulder lifting from my mind. I hadn’t realised how exhausting the act of suppressing my gender identity and sexuality was until I stopped doing so. In hindsight, many of my struggles during my twenties now feel so inherently tangled in the disassociation I failed to see. I possess a clarity now that is liberating, and the fog is beginning to clear.
I am immensely privileged to be surrounded by friends that have unconditionally and enthusiastically embraced my new identity. My friendships have blossomed and flourished since coming out, and I feel a newfound affinity with my girlfriends that I cherish immensely. My partner has been incredibly supportive and accommodating, which I should have anticipated from someone so naturally generous. My mother and sister have been kind and understanding. Needless to say, I feel overwhelmingly loved.
Embracing femininity has been transformative. I am discovering new things about myself every single day - like how utterly enthralled I am with all things fashion. I have found a love for the colour purple that is borderline obsessive, and now wish for a wardrobe full of lilac and lavender. High waisted trousers make me feel like I could conquer anything, and satin midi skirts make me feel like I’m floating on air. Dressing to express has given me confidence I didn’t know I was capable of.
It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. I have days of doubt and self-loathing. I doomscroll through articles of how the UK government, far-right groups and trans-exclusionary so-called feminists aim to erase us from public life, if not from life entirely. I mull over much of the privilege and comfort I will lose from living my life authentically. I fear the long and expensive journey ahead of me, of the arguments yet to be had, of the blows I’ll take and the upset I may cause. Occasionally, in my lowest moments, I question if I’m doing the right thing. If I should just resign to a life of discomfort.
But I refuse. Being your true, authentic self is an act of rebellion in a society that demands you fit into its oppressive parameters. I have never felt as euphoric as I do when I embrace myself, so I will deny these oppressors the satisfaction of my misery. No amount of pain will triumph the beauty of a life lived without compromise.
Where do we go from here? Someday in the future I will begin my social transition, and hopefully my medical transition soon after. I will be using my new name and she/her pronouns. I will still be the same cheeky, audacious bookworm that you love and loathe. The memories I’ve made, the experiences I’ve had, and all the best times are still very much a part of me. But now I will be happier, a tad sassier and so very chic. You’ll be getting books and looks from me. It’ll be unbearable. I can’t wait.
Provided nothing too apocalyptic happens - and in this day and age, there’s no guarantee - 2023 should be mine for the taking.
Abby