There is no single or standard trans narrative, but society does its best to make us believe that there is. The typical trans narrative that tends to receive the most attention focuses on people that were aware of their trans identity from a young age and feel like they were born in the wrong body. My story doesn’t follow that narrative.
Like most of us, being born into a system that not only tells us, but in many ways, forces us, how to look, act, and feel, based on the sex that we were assigned at birth, made it extremely difficult for me to come to terms with my trans identity.
The possibility that I might be trans did not occur to me until I was in my 20’s.
I remember feeling like there was a boy living inside of me for years, but I had no idea what that meant. I tried very hard to resist being trans, but eventually it became impossible.
I came out as trans two weeks after my 30th birthday, while I was in the second year of my PhD, at a conservative, prestigious academic institution. I had also just started a new position at St. Michael’s Hospital. During the first year of my PhD I had spent a significant amount of time thinking about authenticity, especially as it related to my role as a researcher. It didn’t feel right that I was doing my best to conceal my trans identity from the world, while working with queer and trans youth and listening to their deeply personal stories and struggles related to their identities, discrimination, homelessness, family conflict, and mental health. I was also acutely aware that many of the young people I worked with over the years spoke about a lack of trans role models in their lives. I wanted to change that because role models are important and young people should be able to see themselves reflected in the world.
One incident that prompted me to come out occurred while I was interviewing a young trans person who was feeling particularly hopeless.
During the interview, she looked at me and said: “You’re trans right? Do people stare at you on the subway? How do you deal with it?”
That was the first time that I referred to myself as trans.
Sometimes there is no way of knowing how homophobic or transphobic the people in your life will be. Sometimes we are unpleasantly surprised.
Coming out is hard for everyone, especially since it is an ongoing process, which can often feel never ending. LGBTQ identified people are forced to come out over and over again, whereas, straight cisgender people are not expected to come out.
Imagine every single person you come across addressing you with the wrong name and wrong pronoun. Imagine being chased into every public bathroom you enter, being stared at by strangers everywhere you go, and feeling assaulted every day of your life because that’s what it feels like for many trans people when we are continuously misgendered, gawked at, and pathologized.
Imagine every space that you enter and every form that you fill out telling you that you are not welcome and that you do not exist. This type of discrimination, social stigma, and hatred has serious consequences on the lives of trans people and leads to mental health difficulties and high rates of suicide.
Coming out as trans in the midst of working on a PhD definitely had its challenges. Due to the cisnormative beliefs ingrained in our culture, I found it extremely difficult to navigate my professional and academic life as a trans man. There are implications for researchers who identify as queer and are engaged in queer research. For example, the continuum of sexual and gender identities that human beings embody have yet to be fully accepted or understood by most conservative university settings. There were numerous times that I was forced to not only defend and protect my work and the young people participating in my research, but also myself. I often felt isolated and uncomfortable about my trans identity in the academic environment. Many of my peers and professors made comments that would shock me for days.
Coming out as trans in a professional work environment was also challenging. I found myself in a position where I was constantly asked inappropriate questions and educating my colleagues. I’ve noticed that people tend to get quite hostile when they cannot neatly fit you into the gender binary. No matter how many times I corrected my colleagues, they continuously referred to me as ‘she’ and ‘her’. I tried to be as understanding as I could be, which became especially difficult as soon as I started presenting as male.
Since coming out as trans, my life has changed dramatically. I am much more confident and comfortable with myself. I finally feel at home in my skin. People no longer chase me into bathrooms or stare at me wherever I go. However, I continue to face many challenges, one of the biggest being access to health care. Trans people are continuously pathologized and treated like a disease. The medical system still has a very long way to go.
Like other ‘change agents’, my personal experience has led me to the work that I do. I feel fortunate to be able to relate to my work on such a personal and political level.
Working at CAMH allows me to embrace the hospital’s goal and my own goal of driving social change.
Personally, it’s important for to be open about my trans identity in the work that I do because I want to be able to be a role model to the younger generation of trans people; I want them to know that you can be trans and successful. I also want to help break the stigma and stereotypes, especially as a researcher working in health care.
It is my hope that people around the world will finally understand that there is nothing more beautiful than being able to be your true authentic self and being trans is beautiful.