A Coming Out Adventure 2.0
I came out as nonbinary in January. A few things have changed since then.
Hi there. It’s your local quarantined friend/relative/classmate/coworker/queer icon Oak, here to provide you with a few updates on my experiences coming out as nonbinary and the beginnings of my social and physical transition. In honor of Pride month, let’s get caught up. When we last met in early January to discuss my gender identity, I shared how I’d come to the conclusion that I wanted to change my name and pronouns. I have more updates for you. Ah, where to begin?
Let’s start with what we talked about last time: my name and pronouns. How is the world reacting to those two?
My name change has been somewhat smooth sailing — not silky smooth, more like smoothie smooth. It’s got some crushed up strawberry chunks and seeds that get in the way from time to time, but it isn’t half bad overall. My immediate family and friends have made the shift for the most part. A wide array of distant relatives and acquaintances have asked clarifying questions over the past few months, and many of them have now joined the support troops. Don’t get me wrong. I am by no means fully out. There are lots of people who don’t yet know: my neighbors, grandparents, old classmates, most of the citizens of Benicia, and I’m sure I’m forgetting some folks. They don’t know about my name change for a variety of reasons. It’s not always worth it or safe to out myself, or it might be easily forgotten due to memory troubles.
My request to be addressed by they/them pronouns has been a bit trickier. As my mom succinctly put it, “You’re not at Willamette anymore, Toto.” What she meant by that was simply that I’m no longer surrounded by Gen Z (Gen Zoom?) kids who are used to the mysterious singular they/them pronoun. My best friends from college have known me for less than a year, so the name change was also a much easier mental shift for them — compared to family members who have known me my entire life. Most folks make the effort to get my pronouns right, and I appreciate that. It doesn’t sound flawless or effortless yet, but folks seem to slowly be getting there.
Have you gotten your name and pronouns legally changed?
Yes…and no. The pandemic has thrown more than a handful of wrenches into my plan to have everything changed by August for my birthday. My name and gender are legally changed with the state of California. I got my court order back in April. My school ID is changed. My Starbucks Gold Card is changed. My birth certificate, Social Security card, Kaiser care, dental plan, and vision plan are currently being processed. My ID and passport can’t be updated until the DMV and the U.S. Travel Department re-open. My credit cards and my name in both TSA’s and the American Red Cross’ systems can’t be changed until I get my ID. This process is long and expensive under normal circumstances, and it only gets longer and more costly under the pandemic. My new goal is to have everything updated by Christmas. Fingers crossed.
How are you feeling about your new name and pronouns?
Thanks for asking. I feel swell — most of the time. Being referred to as Oak in public spaces is a magical feeling. Some might call it “gender euphoria.” It’s a validating experience, and it shows that my loved ones care about me enough to implement these changes into their daily lives. There are moments where I do miss the ease of my old name and pronouns. I never had to explain or justify myself or my identity before. It gets tiring being the local spokesperson for the nonbinary and trans communities, but I want to be there to support family and friends who have questions. It’s a balancing act. I might open up an advice column in the local newspaper and answer all of the questions I receive there. (I wouldn’t, but isn’t that a dream?)
In your first coming out post, you said that you weren’t planning to get any surgeries or transition physically. I’ve heard that’s no longer the case. What are you planning on doing, and what made you change your mind?
When I was first asked if I was planning to get any surgeries or physically transition, I said this:
No. I love my body. I like having a chest, and I like my feminine voice. I don’t feel any need to change my body. That is not to say that every non-binary person feels this way. Some people do get surgeries. My physical body just doesn’t bother me at all.
At the time, that was true. I wasn’t lying or telling a half-truth. Back in January, I was set on being nonbinary in the body I was born in. Eventually, I came across a few speed-bumps in that plan. First, my body didn’t feel nonbinary to me. I felt like I was in a girl’s body. Don’t get me wrong. I never hated my body or even thought it was ugly. I thought I had a shapely, athletic, “cute” bod. It just didn’t line up with the body I had pictured for myself. I pictured a more traditionally masculine-shaped body with more of a “V” shape instead of a hourglass figure.
In order to match my body with what I’d envisioned, I chose to take two big steps: starting low-dose testosterone and getting top surgery. I did my first subcutaneous shot of testosterone on June 5th, and it felt wonderful. I have already experienced a few changes, and I will cover those in more detail in an article that is soon to follow this. I started testosterone on a lower dose in order to receive a few of the “male” features I’d been wanting: a deeper voice, a bit of fat redistribution, a defined jawline, and more natural muscle definition — without the speed and intensity that come from higher doses.
I met with a top surgeon on June 10th, and we are aiming to do my surgery in December during my winter break. Getting top surgery wasn’t part of my initial plan either. Back in January, I was fine with the idea of binding my chest forever. Things have since changed. Binding is horribly uncomfortable. To anyone with breasts who is reading this, I challenge you to go put on four of your tightest sport bras and tell me that you’d be comfortable with that feeling for the rest of your life. Binding restricts your breathing, mobility, and overall comfort. It also hurts your back and ribs if you do it for a long time. I don’t want to hurt my body, and top surgery provides a safe and long-lasting alternative. (Yes, I do see the irony in choosing surgery as the less painful alternative. I’m thinking about the long term.) The surgery is also covered by Kaiser, my healthcare provider, so that’s all the more reason to go through with it.
Circling back to the quote from January, I still love my body — as hard as that may be to believe. It’s a great body, and there are some changes I would like to make to it. I want to present on the more masculine side, and testosterone and top surgery are two great ways to accomplish that.
Now, for a rapid fire round, answering the questions I get asked the most:
- Do you want to be a boy? — Nope. I want to be an agender person who exists somewhere in the middle of the gender spectrum. I have no intentions of “becoming” a boy. Testosterone and top surgery don’t change my gender either. They just change my body.
- How long do you have to take testosterone? — If I want it to stay in my body, forever. There won’t come a point in time when my body starts producing it naturally. However, I can stop it at any time. If I find that I’ve received all of the changes I would like, I can stop. Forever is a long time, and I acknowledge that it sounds scary.
- What happens if you change your mind? — That would be unfortunate. I’d have to live with the consequences. Changing my name back would be costly, but it’s doable. Top surgery is reversible through breast implants. Testosterone is about 90% reversible. The voice and hair changes are the only irreversible effects. But, I don’t think that I will regret this. Of course, I can’t be fully sure, but it’s a big life change like lots of other things. I’ll be okay.
- Are you trans? — Based on how I define trans, yes. In my mind, trans is just short for transitioning. I’m transitioning to a gender identity (nonbinary) that is different from what I was assigned at birth (female), so I’m trans. Transitioning to the middle is still trans to me. Not all people think this way, and not all nonbinary people label themselves as trans. It’s a bit of personal preference with this one.
- Are you “fully” transitioning? — I’m never too sure what people mean by this one. If you’re asking if I’m transitioning to boyhood, the answer is no. I’m physically transitioning to a place where I feel more comfortable with my body when I’m moving around and when I’m looking at it in the mirror. On a side note: I’m not less trans for not “fully” transitioning. Bisexual people aren’t “less gay.” They hold a completely different identity just like gendervariant people.
- What about your safety? Doesn’t being a black-ish trans, queer kid put you in danger? — Yep. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned about my safety as a member of many overlapping minority groups. You know how folks say “You can’t live in fear?” That’s sort of my mantra now. I do try to avoid putting myself into situations that are unnecessarily risky (ie: public bathrooms, being alone in public for long periods of time, going to the BLM protests, etc). I want to live my life as my most authentic self, and that comes with some unfortunate safety challenges.
- Do you want to “pass?” — For those who are unaware of the term, passing typically refers to being perceived by others as the gender you are trying to present as. For example, a transgender man “passes” when people look at him and are unable to tell that he’s trans. Unfortunately for me (and for most nonbinary folks), there simply is no “passing as nonbinary.” When most people look at someone they haven’t seen before, they immediately assume that they are either a girl or a boy. A third option rarely pops into our minds. Passing is not on my to-do list, but it could be beneficial to my safety in the long run. It’s not a big deal to me right now.
Okay. I hope that recap of the thoughts, feelings, and changes I’ve experienced over the last six months was helpful. I’m enjoying figuring out how to match up my outside body to my inner self. At the end of the day, I’m still me. My heart is the same. I’m just making a few changes to how I look. That’s all.
With love,
Oak
June 2020
