How do I know I'm "actually a woman"?
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How do I know I'm "actually a woman"?
I don't, really. If there's some part of the brain whose job it is to inform me of my gender identity, it must be on strike.
But what I do know is that the first thing that happened with me when I began transition was that I started to dance.
#trans -
It wasn't the hormones, because those were still eight months off. I was just in the kitchen, cooking dinner, when I felt the urge to shake my body to some tune only in my head.
A subtle yet unignorable joy, driving my hips, driving my feet. I had this sense of myself, a presence, in the moment and in my body.
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My transition has been this slow stumble in pursuit of that feeling. Does removing my body hair feel good? Painting my nails? Wearing a blouse? A hill-climbing exercise that started in the foothills but led me inexorably into a full ascent of a peak marked on my map as "Woman".
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It doesn't always feel the same. Sometimes it's a moment of great and abiding peace during a walk in the park, sometimes it's a silly thing that makes me giggle. Sometimes a guilty pleasure that I let myself enjoy. Sometimes the exhilaration of doing something I never thought I'd dare to do.
Each time I can sense my being stretching out, becoming more, becoming freer. Reaching out into the world.
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My #transition goes far beyond the physical and the sartorial. It's a self-actualisation, of which looking fantastic in a dress happens to be a small but surprisingly crucial part.
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D dunpiteog@devianze.city shared this topic on
