I'm a somewhat gender nonconforming man. I have long hair. I enjoy wearing colorful, frilly clothes. I crossplay in videogames. I love reading shoujo mangas. There's a bunch of very "unmanly" hobbies I have. And I've had this question for a while: what if I'm actually Trans, and just masking it with stuff I deem acceptable for a man?
Then, after about one year of living together, my flatmate came out to me as Trans. She realized/admitted it to herself a bit before moving in (we knew each other before, but we weren't really close), and started experimentally wearing women's clothes and doing makeup (and probably some other stuff) whenever I was away for the past half year. I was one of the first people she came out to.
Over the next few years I saw her transition a lot. I was there, when she came out to a couple of common friends, gave her the courage to come out to her family (which caused some issues in the beginning, but ultimately turned out good), experienced her fashion change from awkwardly hyper feminine (pink skirts, fishnets, an oversized bra stuffed with definitely too much TP) to something that suits her much more and feels natural to her body type (still skirts and stockings and bras, just less awkward). She even started HRT recently.
And throughout all this, I realized one thing: I fundamentally don't empathyze with that aspect of her in any way, shape or form. Like, I understand rationally what she's going through. I see her get visibly happier every step of the way. If I was Trans, and just couldn't admit it to myself as I said in the beginning, I'd expect to feel something when looking at her changes. Maybe some jealousy or envy. Or at least some type of "I want that for me too" type of thing. But I don't. Whenever my flatmate did a change, my only thoughts were : "great for you" and "I wouldn't bother doing that for myself".
Living with a trans woman made me fully realize that I am male. I'm very much ok with people putting me in the same group as people like Leonardo Di Caprio, Ghandi, Trump, the five year old boy next door, and the rest of more or less 50% of humans that have ever lived (I know that's normative of the gender binary, but I couldn't think of a way to phrase this without making it overly complicated). Yet I am fundamentally different from every one of those. So to me, it feels like I shouldn't really place any value on being part of that group. I just know that I am, and that's it.
As for you: talk to trans people. See if you can relate to them. Watch videos by trans creators. Experiment with stuff you consider to be feminine, and see if it makes you happy. Or if it makes you feel uncomfortable, try to figure out why. And if you find stuff you like, it doesn't necessarily mean that you are trans, though I believe that at some point that is strongly implied.
I have know idea what it actually means to be a man or a woman, or trans, or non-binary, or agender. I've just had an opportunity to figure out which of these groups I fit in. And I've realised that in the end, even though I know something about myself now, it doesn't really matter.
I'm a somewhat gender nonconforming man. I have long hair. I enjoy wearing colorful, frilly clothes. I crossplay in videogames. I love reading shoujo mangas. There's a bunch of very "unmanly" hobbies I have. And I've had this question for a while: what if I'm actually Trans, and just masking it with stuff I deem acceptable for a man?
Then, after about one year of living together, my flatmate came out to me as Trans. She realized/admitted it to herself a bit before moving in (we knew each other before, but we weren't really close), and started experimentally wearing women's clothes and doing makeup (and probably some other stuff) whenever I was away for the past half year. I was one of the first people she came out to.
Over the next few years I saw her transition a lot. I was there, when she came out to a couple of common friends, gave her the courage to come out to her family (which caused some issues in the beginning, but ultimately turned out good), experienced her fashion change from awkwardly hyper feminine (pink skirts, fishnets, an oversized bra stuffed with definitely too much TP) to something that suits her much more and feels natural to her body type (still skirts and stockings and bras, just less awkward). She even started HRT recently.
And throughout all this, I realized one thing: I fundamentally don't empathyze with that aspect of her in any way, shape or form. Like, I understand rationally what she's going through. I see her get visibly happier every step of the way. If I was Trans, and just couldn't admit it to myself as I said in the beginning, I'd expect to feel something when looking at her changes. Maybe some jealousy or envy. Or at least some type of "I want that for me too" type of thing. But I don't. Whenever my flatmate did a change, my only thoughts were : "great for you" and "I wouldn't bother doing that for myself".
Living with a trans woman made me fully realize that I am male. I'm very much ok with people putting me in the same group as people like Leonardo Di Caprio, Ghandi, Trump, the five year old boy next door, and the rest of more or less 50% of humans that have ever lived (I know that's normative of the gender binary, but I couldn't think of a way to phrase this without making it overly complicated). Yet I am fundamentally different from every one of those. So to me, it feels like I shouldn't really place any value on being part of that group. I just know that I am, and that's it.
As for you: talk to trans people. See if you can relate to them. Watch videos by trans creators. Experiment with stuff you consider to be feminine, and see if it makes you happy. Or if it makes you feel uncomfortable, try to figure out why. And if you find stuff you like, it doesn't necessarily mean that you are trans, though I believe that at some point that is strongly implied.
I have know idea what it actually means to be a man or a woman, or trans, or non-binary, or agender. I've just had an opportunity to figure out which of these groups I fit in. And I've realised that in the end, even though I know something about myself now, it doesn't really matter.