TRANSITION

Lee Cyphers

Trans: across, through, change of. Underneath, on the outside looking in, slipping through the cracks. Switched and both and neither and in between and something else entirely new.

Rejection of biological and social reality in favor of some higher truth. How can I explain this to people? The girl at the party who asked, “What are you?” The boy who cautioned me against “synthetic hormones” because he thought it might be risky. How do I tell them I share their very same fears, their discomfort and skepticism? How do I tell them I don’t understand any of it myself, that I cannot wrap my mind around how or why this happened? I can’t offer any proof. No tangible reasons why my life should depend on this seemingly unnecessary choice.

When I was five years old, my mom’s co-worker asked me if I wished I had been born a boy. She wasn’t singling me out for any specific reason; my mom had brought me to work that day, at her job in the psychology department at NYU. They were conducting a study on gender development in children. The question confused me. Did I wish I were a boy? Duh. Didn’t everybody? Boys got to climb trees and play sports, and just generally have more fun than girls. Then again, my mom had said girls could do anything boys could do, and my mom knew everything. Plus, if I could go back in time and be born a boy, would that mean I would be a different person? Would that be the same as not being born? Finally, I answered the question: “No, I don’t think so.” I wanted to be me.

Who actually knows their gender? What does that even mean? What a ridiculous concept. Isn’t it all made up anyway, social constructs socially enforced? Maybe I’m just being brainwashed by the patriarchy. Maybe I don’t hate my female body but the male gaze. Maybe I’ve convinced myself I’m different and special. Maybe I’m getting caught up in the zeitgeist. Maybe I’m too young and hormonal to know what I’m feeling. What if I’ve got it all wrong and I make a mistake and I can never go back?

Some say gender dysphoria can be traced back to genetics, or hormone levels in utero. They say that trans people have different brains than cis people of their assigned sex. I wish I could get a brain scan right now. If a trained professional could tell me who I am, maybe they could tell me where to find the rule book. How else can I figure out what to do? I’m sick of feeling so lost.

Testosterone is one hell of a drug. There are hundreds of videos on YouTube documenting the transition from female to male. Every week the voice gets a little deeper. Every month the face gets a little squarer, the muscle mass a little more defined. Skin gets rougher, hairier, oilier, and acne appears, then clears up. Puberty, take two: growing up on one’s own terms. After a year, the individual looks completely different, like his own twin brother. The changes are more subtle after that, but they solidify the transformation. After five years there is no more change, and it is nearly impossible to look at the person in front of the camera and believe he has XX chromosomes. It’s nothing short of incredible.

I want this thing too much, too much.

Transition is too gentle a word for something that feels like jumping off a cliff.