I Am A Seventeen-Year-Old Boy

By Finnegan

I am a seventeen-year-old boy, but it took me a while to have that all figured out. Discovering my gender identity as a transman has been super back and forth, but I made it, and I’m finally taking the steps I need to truly be myself. I feel like many other trans folks have a hard time finding themselves, too, so I’m going to talk about my embarrassing, anxiety-ridden journey here. Just keep in mind that my circumstances may be different to yours, so I don’t want this scaring you out of discovering yourself or coming out or anything like that. I came out twice, and it worked out the second time, so don’t let this scare you.

I started questioning my gender in the sixth grade. I remember talking to my close friend about it at recess, and she told me that maybe I should just identify as both genders for the time being. I know we were really young, but the internet opened us up to absolutely everything, both a blessing and a curse. By the seventh grade, I fully figured out that I am a boy. I would wear flannels and hoodies and anything I could to masculinise myself. My mother wouldn't let me cut my hair, so I would wear it up in a messy bun all the time. I told my friends at school, and one of them was religiously against it at first- “God doesn’t make mistakes…” (it honestly shocked me, I didn’t even know she was religious)- but she came around eventually. So three school friends knew at that time, and I told my older sister at some point, but I have no recollection of that moment. I remember asking my mom for boy-cut underwear because I knew better than to ask for boxers, and she still asked me if there was something she "should be worried about". I would also only ever wear clothes from the boys' section, or from skate shops like West 49. My mother made comments about it all the time, and they stung. I remember one time at Forever 2,1, we were shopping, and my mom ended up snapping and saying something super harsh, and I felt like crying, and my older sister looked at me knowingly. It did feel a little better to have her understand, even just slightly.

Then, some time before seventh grade ended, I told my mom. It was so stupid. I did it over text, while she was at work, because I was too scared to tell her in person. I already had the message written out in the notes app; I just copied and pasted it. I feel guilty about that now, because even if she was supportive, that is not how I should have told her, she called me, and she was furious. When she got home, I got a long and heated lecture, and she pressured me to explain why I said what I said. My mouth was dry, and I couldn't breathe. She said the whole “you’re too young blah blah blah” and made me feel like an idiot for ever considering I was anything but a little girl. Eventually, I convinced her to move on and forget about it. And she did. I still wore the clothes I was wearing before, but this time I was just a "tomboy".

I moved schools near the end of the seventh grade, and came out to my new friends as a 'lesbian'. It gave me a bit of freedom to dress more masculine, but I was never really attracted to girls, and I had to fake it quite a bit. I finally got to cut my hair a little though. For all of eighth grade I had my hair to my shoulders or shorter. I was this short little dirtbag that dressed like I lived in a skatepark and never brushed my hair, which was actually heaven, so it didn’t really get bad until high school.

I moved towns and had to go to school with kids I had never met before. I let my hair grow out and dress in sweatshirts 24/7. I pretended to be a cis girl- I didn’t do that in the eighth grade. It’s like my mother from two years prior possessed me and convinced me I was just a weird, shy teenage girl. I was weird and shy, but for a plethora of other reasons. Most likely because I looked really bad with long hair.

For all of high school, I have been living inside my own dumb brain. Like a little characterised version of myself, inside the comfort zone that is my mind. I didn't look in the mirror until I cut and dyed my hair into a green mullet (yes, I did it myself, yes, it looked pretty good) the summer before last summer, and I only ever really looked to style said hair or check in on the state of my face. I have had physical dysphoria for a long time, but attempted to write it off as having a chest bigger than I would want, even as a girl (which everyone would tell me is abnormal every chance they got, and that didn't help), and I attempted to just ignore it; which is probably why I ended up living in my own head, I ignored my physical body all together most of the time. Pretended I didn't have one. Others could see me how they wanted; I didn't have to look.

The summer before this school year was honestly the worst. I couldn’t ignore these feelings of mine anymore, and it made me panic, so instead of addressing them, I started hyper-feminising myself. Don’t get me wrong, I looooove men wearing traditionally “feminine” clothing, but I had never actually liked dressing like that myself, even if I was a cis girl, so I was literally forcing myself to. My aesthetic was really cool, though. I thrifted pretty femme-goth clothing pieces and wore way too much jewellery. It was cool for what it was, but it made me feel horrible. I even wore clothes that really accentuated the breasts I’ve hated so much my whole life. It was like I hated myself and wanted to punish the feelings I was having. But when the school year began, I started talking with my school's social worker, who has basically been a therapist to me for the last year and a half, and she really helped dig me out of the weird, unnecessary hole I buried myself in.

Anyways, fast forward to November 2020, I’m out to my mom, one of my sisters, my friends, and the school staff (who are actually being really great about the whole thing, which shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did). My mom ended up the most supportive out of everyone in the end. She’s bought me binders, boy underwear that’s specifically for transmen so they don’t fit weird, she helped me discover my adorable name, and she’s been using it as much as she can without my grandparents finding out about me (we live with them). I’m not living in my head anymore, and I’m actually happy. I also got my hair cut genuinely short, by a professional, and it looks much better, in case you were worried about that. I do miss my mullet sometimes, though.

In conclusion, I’m pretty sure gender-discovery is messy for more of us than you would think, and you will figure it out, and everything will be okay. I can’t speak for your parents, but even if they aren’t supportive (even after two tries; come out twice if you have to), you will be okay. You are your own person, and you get to make decisions for yourself; maybe not legally yet, but soon.