TW: Internalized misogyny, internalized transphobia, gender dysphoria
This is probably the hardest thing I've ever written. I'm posting this because I feel incredibly alone in all of this, and I don't know where else to put these thoughts anymore. I'm aware that some of the things I'm about to say are problematic, and I feel an almost unbearable amount of guilt for thinking this way on a daily basis.
As the title suggests, I've spent most of my life denying a part of myself. Or, more accurately, denying the possibility that there is a part of myself I've never allowed myself to understand. I've tried to bury the thought that I might be trans for as long as I can remember. I'm now in my mid-twenties, and I don't think I can keep doing this. Lately, I've had this sinking feeling that if I continue to ignore it, something in my life is eventually going to break.
I don't enjoy being female. I don't know how else to put it. I present somewhat femininely, partly because it's easier to navigate the world that way and partly because there are social benefits to being a relatively conventionally attractive young woman.
All these feelings have turned into something ugly. I struggle to be friends with women. I've deliberately chosen a degree as far removed as possible from anything that might be considered a women's field. I don't even like listening to music with female singers. I know how ridiculous that sounds, but it's true. I've spent so much time trying to distance myself from womanhood that even the smallest associations can make me uncomfortable.
I've also been transphobic for much of my life, and that's probably one of the hardest things to admit. I've had several friends come out as trans (mtf) , and my first reaction has often been anger, (not directly towards them of course). Not because I don't want them to be happy, but because some part of me resents them for something I can barely articulate.
In my mind, they had won the lottery by being born male. They had been given something I've spent my entire life wishing I could have, and now they were choosing to give it up. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand how someone could willingly leave behind the very thing I had always imagined would make my life bearable.
I know how unfair that is. I know that their experiences are not mine, and that being born male doesn't mean their lives have been easy. I know that their identities and choices have nothing to do with me. But knowing all of that hasn't made the resentment disappear. If anything, it has made me feel even more ashamed of it.
The worst part is that I don't know how much of my anger toward women, or toward trans people, comes from prejudice and how much comes from something I've been too afraid to confront in myself. I don't want to use my own confusion as an excuse for the way I've thought about other people. I just wish I understood why these feelings have such a hold on me.
The strange thing is that my life is fine. Objectively, I have a lot to be grateful for. I have a good education, a boyfriend, and a life that probably looks perfectly acceptable to most people. There isn't some obvious catastrophe I can point to and say, That's why I'm unhappy. Nothing is particularly wrong, and yet I feel as though I can barely stand being alive in the body I've been given.
I can't stand listening to my own voice. I struggle to look at my face. I can't stand having sex. For as long as I can remember, when I imagine myself, there isn't really a body there at all. In my own head, I've been a faceless, bodiless, genderless entity.
I don't know what any of this means. I don't know if I'm trans. I don't know if I'm simply unhappy, if I've spent so long hating myself that I no longer know what I want, or if I'm finally getting close to something I've been running from my entire life.
And I'm terrified of finding out.
I've spent years lurking in this subreddit, reading other people's experiences and wondering whether I recognize myself in them. Every time I get close to admitting that I might, I find some reason to dismiss it. I tell myself I'm making it up, that I'm too old to be questioning this, that my life is too good for me to be unhappy, that I'm just jealous of other people, that I'm a coward for even considering it.
I've never written any of this down before. Not publicly, not privately, not even in a way that would allow me to look at the words and pretend they belong to someone else.
I don't know what I'm hoping to get out of posting this. I don't know what I'm asking for. Maybe I just need someone to hear me, because I'm exhausted from keeping all of this to myself.
I'm scared that I'll never figure it out. I'm scared that I'll figure it out and won't know what to do with the answer. And I'm scared that I've already spent so much of my life trying not to be something that I've forgotten how to imagine being anything else.
I just know that I can't keep pretending this isn't happening.
I'm sorry if this is incoherent I'm just writing down strings of my thoughts. English isn't my first language, and honestly, I don't know if I know how to explain any of this in any language.