Depends on Who You’re Asking…

There are probably about ten people in this town who now know that I identify as trans. It gets easier with every person I tell. The best part is that everything tends to make that much more sense with each telling. Progress.

I had coffee with a friend last night and we stumbled upon a wet patch of concrete on the way back home. I bent down to write my initials in it and my friend asked what my middle name is. “Depends on who you’re asking,” I smirked. “I’m asking you,” she replied. The middle name I had chosen was intended to stay close to the name my parents gave me. Upon discussing it further with my roommate tonight I am considering taking my grandfather’s middle name as my own. I like that the name I assemble will ultimately be much more personal and historical than the seventh-on-the-popular-baby-names-list name my parents handed to me.

Like everything else about transitioning, changing my name is a way that I am actively shaping my presence in the world. It’s terrifying and empowering simultaneously. As far as the terrifying element is concerned, the internet has thus far proved to be an indispensable resource. From blogging to to, it’s so comforting to be able to read the experiences of other transpeople and see that I’m not alone. As far as empowerment goes, wearing a tie feels really good but beyond that we’re still working on some things. Baby steps.


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