#transgenderism...

by me

I am born with a name that suits me fine. I like it, proudly sprawling the thing across my work, my art, my toys, My life.

I am given names that I quite like to hear. Darling, princess, pumpkin, peanut Are all me, and I giggle and grin When they replace that one from the beginning.

I stumble into a name that isn't mine, A measure of safety, the first thing that Pops into my brain as I look around my room. There is a drawing of a mermaid called Misty, And I steal her name, typing it slowly to ensure I spelled it right.

My friend has a name that sounds like mine, but isn't. She's quite fond of it, but I don't mind as much, and I tell her mother she can call me John.

My teacher hands out little pieces of paper And mine says she will call me any name I choose. I become Asriel. I beam whenever she says that one, Loving it more than anything that came before it.

Over dinner, I ask my parents What they would have named me If I had been a boy. James, they say. James Henry.

I'm staying behind in class to speak with my teacher And she tells the person on the phone that there's a student waiting for her. When she uses the word "she", I notice her frown, taking in my short hair and baggy clothes. "Is it she?" She asks. I smile and tell her no.

I am James full-time now, But my parents are slow on the uptake. James Henry morphs into James Anthony, Which in turn becomes James Anthony Philip. I have discovered the possibility of changing one's name on a whim, But I still choose my names carefully.

I am playing a tabletop game after school When my DM introduces a character he thought he named quite cleverly. Captain Morgan helps our party begrudgingly with a dubious accent. I am fascinated by him in a way I cannot yet describe. I like his name, the way it rolls off the tongue.

It has been a terrifying month following a month of denial, But I have finally told everyone that matters that I had been wrong. My cousin admits that I now share the name of her ex. It is my decision, and she is sure I will be a better man than he ever was.

It is the middle of the day and my mother has noticed That my account on our streaming service has changed. Incredulous, she asks who that name belongs to. I say it's mine, and she says I should try again. It is already the middle name of two other cousins. This is not my fault. She doesn’t care.

I notice that more and more of my friends are taking up different names, Collecting the ones they like the best. I've made up some grand time-traveling escapade, And I decide I need an undercover name. I find Miles and repeat it to myself for the rest of the day. I like Miles. I think I’ll keep it.

My friend asks me to help them pick out a new name. We pour through pages upon pages. They find a few they like. I find Adonis. I like Adonis, but it doesn't suit me. It doesn't hurt to try.

I am creating a new character, Sculpting them from a piece of my soul. They need their own name. I find Willow. I love how Willow sounds, how it feels when my friends say it to me. I add it to my collection, in reserve, as a bonus.

The name I was born with looms over me. My parents still use it. It's on my presents from half of my family members. My brother pronounces it wrong to get a rise out of me, and it works too well. That is not my name, I snap. Try again.