Trapped in the Wrong Body: Trans Teens Open the Door to Self Confidence

Feature Editors:
Mirtza Silva, 17
Jennie Figueroa, 15
Massachusetts

by Hajarah Abdus-Sabur

Ever feel like you are alone and have nobody to talk to or nowhere to go? Can you think of a time in your life when you felt trapped in the wrong body? There are teens who go through this questioning every day. Trans teens go through many emotional struggles as they try to find themselves and come out to others. Read on to find out how trans teens are bravely making changes in their lives, which organizations support trans youth, and what rights protect trans teens.

Editor’s Note: Gender identity is a complicated thing. While this feature focuses on teens who are born male or female but identify with the opposite gender, “trans” is a broad category that is increasingly being used to describe many different non-conventional gender identities (see Words to Know).

My Life as a Transgender Person
Max, 16
California

Lots of people don’t accept people who are trans; most of their intolerance springs from their fear of the unknown. Just recently I have started being more open about myself. Most people look at me and think, “Oh, look at that lesbian,” or say, “Oh, that dyke.” It’s how people define me. They ask someone, “Who’s Megan?” and they will say, “That girl that dresses like a guy, that lesbian chick.” There is so much more to me, but for some reason, my personality has nothing to do with who I am as a person. People think my being trans is linked to my sexuality and that is not the case; the two are not connected.

When I was younger my mom put me in dresses. I hated them so my dad made her stop. I loved the time I had with my dad. I was “daddy’s little girl.” When my dad started working more, my mom drove my sister and me everywhere. My “dad time” virtually disappeared. My mom dressed me in what she wanted, and dad wouldn’t be there to defend me. Once I got into middle school my mom got more controlling and annoyed with how I looked. She would force me to wear my sister’s REALLY girly hand-me-down clothes by taking mine when I put them in the laundry. She even went as far as putting clothes out for me.

By the middle of 8th grade, I began to cut myself, and towards the end of the year I was called into the office of our school’s vice principal. She had me show her my arms. She told me that she had to inform my parents. They came, and my mom cried. I wouldn’t look at her. I couldn’t tell them why I was doing it. By the next day, they had found me a psychologist. We went a few times and the therapist said that I had recognized there were problems in our family and that my cutting was a call for help. I almost never said anything at all. I went to therapy for about ten sessions and then I asked for a new therapist. I was expecting they would find me another one that might have been able to help, but I haven’t been to a psychologist since. My mom said, “Oh, you don’t need it anyway,” but boy was she wrong. I needed it and I wanted it.

I found a way to deal on my own, though. I accepted what they wanted of me and tried not to think about what I was doing. My mom lightened up. It took a while, and things are still rough at times but my self-confidence has grown enormously. I’m still not the person I want to be, but I’m getting there.

In October of this year I came out as a lesbian to my mother (my sister found out at the end of my sophomore year). I didn’t think it would be a shock to her with the guy clothes and everything. She told me things like: “I hate gay people, Megan, you better get over this!” Now she just pretends that none of this “stuff” exists.

Over spring break this year my mom and dad sat me down and my dad started out by saying, “We need to talk about why you’re dressing a certain way.” I started telling them everything: how I had felt this way ever since I was little, how I knew how mom felt about it so I never talked about it to her or anyone, and how our relationship suffered because of it. When I said I have wanted to be a boy since I was little she said, “You’re a girl, Megan, you look like a girl. You have a girly face.” I never used the words transgender or trans because I thought that would confuse my dad (he was the only one in the room for almost all of the conversation because my mom left). I wish they could support me for trying to be me, as much as they support me by doing all these things for all the activities I’m involved in.

I have told four of my friends. It’s still relatively hard to say to my friends, “My name is Max and I’m transgender.” Most of them already know that I am not comfortable. I joke about it. Once I say “transgender,” I’m scared they will go: “Huh? What?” I have to explain, and sometimes they still don’t understand. Even telling my gay/queer friends is hard because I’m scared of being rejected. Next year I hope with or without (most likely without) the support of my parents to be able to live a more open life, gain more self-confidence and tell more people.

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