Growing up as a pastor’s kid and in the Christian church, I was never really taught about what it meant to be a queer youth. I remember when I was 7, looking into the mirror and thinking I’m a boy, but I didn’t understand what that meant, so I just ignored it. Here I am 12 years later, finally starting to live the life my 7-year-old self knew all along.
Growing up in southern Maine during my teens, I wasn’t around many people who were different from me. I grew up in a religious circle were the only thing talked about with marriage is that opposite genders marry each other, no premarital sex, no moving in with each other before marriage, and you were told you had to have kids. It was ingrained in me for so long that this was the only way to go to heaven. Even the dance studio I went to was Christian-based, and you could only dance to worship music.
Figuring out who I am hasn’t been easy. It wasn’t until 2019 when I moved to Colorado that I learned what being queer and transgender actually meant. After being around the queer community, I realized how much I related to it. I finally got to live out my true colors. Well, almost … I believed that once I came out, everything would be rainbows and butterflies, and things would make sense, and I’d be happy right away.
I came out in June 2022 as nonbinary and bisexual after my therapist at the time asked me my pronouns. At 17, I finally was ready to live my true self and be happy right away. That was not the case. A month after I came out, I lost two of the closest people in my life because “It wasn’t God’s plan for me to be queer.” This never really made sense to me. Why is it that people I grew up with couldn’t love me the same because I changed my pronouns and told them my sexual identity? Especially those within a church who say these horrible things to you but also say they love their neighbors. This contradiction led me into a depression spiral. I felt so alone, but yet I had people who loved me for who I was.
When I fully realized who I was, I decided in March of 2023 to start transitioning. I started to use the term “queer” for my sexual identity, as telling people I like gay men could be confusing because on the outside, I still looked like a woman. As a new adult who is a baby gay, I had a lot of people question my decision and wondered if it is “too soon” because my brain isn’t fully developed yet. Let me tell you, it’s never too soon, and it’s never too late, to come out or start transitioning. You are the only person who knows what’s best for you in regards to your own identity.
Living as a transmasculine/nonbinary person in today’s climate is the scariest thing, but my future is full of hope. It takes a lot of bravery and strength to live as myself. I drive down the road terrified I’ll be pulled over and receive hate from a police officer. I’m scared to travel out of the state on family vacations because of the anti-trans laws being passed left and right. To this day, I still receive hate and harassment from people I grew up telling me that being transgender isn’t okay.
I have family members I don’t talk to because of this false narrative that being queer isn’t right. It takes a toll on my mental health a majority of the time. I constantly have to fight for basic rights. I have to be sure places I would apply for a job are safe spaces and don’t discriminate. I never thought I’d be having to ask places if they are transgender-friendly when finding a new therapist or doctor. I have to fight to not pay out of pocket for surgeries because if it’s labeled as gender affirming to insurance, it’s denied. Navigating being transgender is hard in this climate, but it’s especially hard for a young adult who is still perceived as a kid in certain situations. All I want to do is live my life as authentically as possible.
Photo by Elijah Cordova
