Ten years ago, I'm still in the closet.
Back then, I have a strictly TME friend group, comprising of cis and trans men, as well as people who would later on come out themselves.
I'm just beginning to discover my identity and gender. I buy and wear pretty clothes in secret, and although I had already gone out a few times in public dressed feminine alongside friends, it's still meant to remain a secret amongst our circle.
My girlfriend at the time, a genderfluid person, is supportive. At least it feels like it. She accompanies me to clothing stores and encourages me to come out.
Then, she tells people without my consent.
She and a mutual friend were invited at the family home of someone she knows since childhood, and she found it appropriate to tell her whole family I was transgender.
She tells me about it upon her return, as I play online with our other friends. It flies over my head until I try seeking sleep in bed that night. Then it hits me like a cold storm over my face.
The next day, I confront her calmly and respectfully, despite my blood anxiously and furiously boiling. I interrogate her; she says the subject came up out of nowhere.
But then she confesses to me that, months prior, she had already told that childhood friend, in an attempt to comfort her about being possibly bisexual. She deemed it worthwhile to co-opt the burden of my transition by telling someone without asking me, then not telling me, until I asked about it. That is despite having reiterated my boundaries on the matter.
I raise my voice and tell her firmly my side of things, that I am angry at her, disappointed in her, and that it affects the trust I have in her. Each word of mine is calculated, and I remain calm.
Her reaction is hysterical, switching abruptly and repeatedly from uncontrollable sobbing, guilt-ridden apologies and cuddling, to hostility, cold shoulders and accusatory yells. Despite this, by the end of the day, all seems better, mainly after insisting I forgive her.
The following day, I beg our mutual friend, who witnessed my partner outing me, to not do so to anyone else. He sees the message but doesn't reply, then invites her to his place for dinner.
At 1 a.m., my girlfriend finally informs me over messaging that she is staying overnight. Lonely in our apartment, I ask if she wants to chat. She declines, because of what happened earlier. A tense exchange begins, and she proceeds to accuse me of not being trans enough; that if I really am a girl, I shouldn't be scared to come out. That I'm the one making unhealthy decisions, that I prohibit myself from living, despite having a job and an active social life. I nervously tell her that the stress I exhibit in regards to being upfront about my identity has no correlation with its level of authenticity, and that she certainly has no say on the matter.
The final question she throws at me before logging off is whether or not I will be this uptight when I'm on estrogen. Internalized misogyny on full display.
She doesn't come back for several days.
I don't sleep well in the meantime.
I contact my two friends from high school, who are also part of our social circle, and we meet up, away from my apartment, at my mother's house while she is gone camping. I proceed to tell them everything, and they seem to agree with me. Then we disband and speak about meeting sometime later.
They stop returning my messages.
Then all my friends stop responding to me.
Ten years ago, I stay overnight at my mother's house with her cats, just so I wouldn't be home alone.
Ten years ago, my friends side with my partner, choosing her narrative over mine, depicting herself as a victim of abuse.
Ten years ago, my girlfriend isolates me from my entire social circle, holding my friends hostage and involving them all as mediators to solve our "relationship conflict" before them.
Ten years ago, my fear of being excluded from my friend group for being transgender comes alive, despite transgender men being part of said group.
Ten years ago, and today still, standing up for yourself as a transgender woman can cost you everything.
When I come back home to my ghost house of an apartment, I am sent a text message from another of our friends, telling me to come over to his place, where everyone is already gathered, expecting my arrival. I sit the closest to the door, because the whole group is already facing me as I enter.
Everything is brought up, and they all get to weigh in on how I feel, and whether or not I should.
I am forced to promise to my girlfriend that I will not act this way anymore, and that I will actually partake in more exposure activities to affirm my trans identity, like going to the public pool with her, in a feminine swimsuit.
In order to gain my social life back, I have to accept being forced out of the closet.
After the discussion, my partner and I hug, and the friend she stayed with tells us how this is gonna strengthen our bond.
A few months later, I come out publicly.
Worst part of this story?
I stayed with her another year and a half before I finally dumped her ass. Sometime after, most of our mutual friends left with her.
Ten years later, today, I am happier, and better surrounded. My social circle is FREE OF MEN and includes a lot more TMAs. I'm writing this long-ass post after meeting my newfound family at a restaurant hours ago. I had a wonderful time with my loved ones.
I am lucky, yet luck isn't enough to live by. You deserve to trust, and be trusted.
You deserve someone who won't ever wonder if you're trans enough.
