There comes a time in one's life where they must dispel the illusions that restrain them; that they must conquer the fear of what others may erroneously perceive.
Anxiety had been a dictating force in my life that kept me distant from my family, my friends, and all that life has to offer. It kept me elusive from those whom I care for deeply and reserved with the minutiae of my life's many complexities. In fear of my identity being twisted by hateful misconceptions, I hid, instead opting to masquerade as the role many believed I had been deigned to play out in this life and used it merely as a façade in order to preserve a sense of safety from an increasingly frightening world.
But today, I cast off the yoke of that fear.
For twenty-three years, the name I was given at birth was not my own—I knew this from a very early age, as I frequently stole and hid my sister's toys in my room. But I believed that I was alone with my feelings, and that this was merely an unnatural sensation that would soon pass.
Then I grew up, and around the age of twelve, I discovered that I was not alone in these feelings; that I was never alone. I learned that across the innumerable chronicles of history, the stories of transgender, nonbinary, two-spirit and queer peoples had gone unwritten, swept away into the cracks of our society to be erased. And that only in the late 20th and early 21st centuries had we finally begun to walk in the sun's light. Upon absorbing this knowledge, for the very first time in my life, I felt like I knew a little about myself.
This journey would continue into my late teens and adulthood. In lieu of the confidence to experiment with my identity in the corporeal sense, I elected to exist largely in the ether of the internet. I became deeply involved in a vast collection of online communities of people from every corner of the globe. Some were even reckoning with the same tribulations I was as they sought to escape the thumb of control. Some hoped to flee from their families who did not accept them for who they were. Others were scrutinized by their church who declared their mere existence abominable. But all of us shared one common desire: To merely be, as we are.
Upon obtaining independence, I was able to manifest the truest iteration of myself into the material world for the very first time, and my depression was single-handedly washed away. I have smiled more in the past two years than I have in my entire life. I feel alive.
But the world grows dark in the prospects of our futures. Political forces across the country have begun to mobilize against gender transition on a scale previously unseen in our nation, and even have begun to pervert our identity as being the byproduct of grooming. The wrongful association of our identity as being a threat to children has begun to normalize violence against us in conservative circles; the word "eradicate" has even been used as a call to action against gender transition. Self-defense training and possession of self-defense weapons have become paramount to safety for many of us now. The cost of being true to myself is shouldering that possibility every day, and accepting that I may very likely never get to travel the world as a consequence of that.
But even with that possible future looming, I refuse to lie to myself, or others, about who I am. So without further ado, I believe a reintroduction is in order.
My name is Cindy. I am a woman.
I am a dedicated writer of stories, a conversationalist at heart, and open-minded to the ever-reshaping clay of the world around us. I have dedicated my life to telling stories in the hopes of educating others on the subjects of tolerance, community, healing, and love. I write almost every day, have plans to write a book, and have intentions to acquire a domestic skunk as a pet. I wear dark clothes, listen to all manner of music, and love Star Trek.
I am also agnostic—not out of doubt or even disbelief of the idea of a higher power, but out of the belief that what transpires in the material world matters more to me than what occurs afterward. The power of the human spirit is all that I truly believe in. As for anything else? I will worry about that bridge when I cross it.
Empathy is a powerful driving force in my life. Understanding and helping others has become an important part of my cosmically temporary existence. However, do not misinterpret my passion for tolerance as willing to tolerate intolerance. I am not afraid to expunge parts of my life that cause me harm. I ask that those adamant of their prejudice keep such feelings to themselves, and allow each of us to not exist in one another's lives from here on. You will not dissuade me by lashing out or attempting to convince me that I am somehow misguided.
For those with questions, I am happy to be a source of information to you. The topic of identities like mine has become a controversial, hot-button issue, and in the digital age, misinformation spreads like an infection. I ask that you remember that, despite this abrupt change in perception, I am still me. This has always been me.
Lastly, I want to thank my father and my sisters. Though their love and support of me was never in doubt, it was a difficult thing to wrestle with my fears over the years. I went into this confidently (even if still a little nervous), but I can only describe the sensation of being so quickly accepted as invigorating. Thank you.