Now that I’m out, I’m free to embrace my authentic self!
Um…what exactly is that, and how do you do it?
Hi there, world.
One of the most important things we can do, especially those of us on a journey of transition, is embracing our authentic selves and embracing self-expression.
Great! Easy enough, right? Let’s get to it!
So…um…how do we do that exactly?
What I’ve found is that, at least for me, learning how to be myself for the first time after spending nearly five decades pretending to be someone I’m not…is not that easy.
Okay, so maybe it’s just me. Maybe every other trans person over 40 figured the whole authentic-self thing years ago and easily flipped a switch and off they went into loud, proud pyrotechnic mode as they announced their amazing expressions of self to the world and somehow amassed 1,049,492 Instagram followers in 32 seconds.
For me, at least, the experience was a little more IKEA-like. “What do I do with all of these pieces, and why is the instruction manual in morse code?”
Embracing my authentic self has been a slow, tedious, at-times alarming, but so-far curious journey. Partly because I first had to learn what my authentic self was, and that was honestly a work in progress even before my transition began.
A big part of that was living an entire life as what I was expected to be as a male-presenting member of society. There was parental pressure to be a good son. There was the social pressure of what it meant to be a straight man. There was the social expectation to be able to build any piece of IKEA furniture without instructions or help. (On the latter point, at least, I guess I’ve succeeded.)
So what happens when you spend a lifetime living as much for social expectations as you do for yourself? When you’re so determined to be this straight (and straightforward) guy who shouldn’t cry and shouldn’t discuss feelings (ewwww, feelings) and who should always be tough and strong and be able to rebuild a transmission while quoting statistics on who led the MLB in 9th inning doubles in the month of August?
At least for me, what happened was that when I came out and was free to embrace my authentic self, I had no idea on how much of me was authentic to begin with.
For sure, there were some oddities and quirks that I was fairly certain were authentically me. My love of 80s music and nostalgia, my love of ironic t-shirts featuring gun-toting bunnies, my nerdiness (which, hey, now that I’m a woman, I hear is a good thing), and my occasionally ill-timed comment that something (like, say, a plush avocado) is “cute.”
But then there are the things I’m less certain of. I don’t like acting silly (with kids, my wife, or executive chairmen) because I’m afraid of not being “manly” and losing face…whatever that means. I don’t like to dance because I’m no good at leading and haven’t figured out the quantum-physics-level complexity of salsa. (If only that came with IKEA-like instructions.) I don’t like magenta because, yikes, that’s such a girly color!
And yet, as I continue to map this “authentic self” thing, here’s what I’ve found.
I think I actually could be silly…if I allowed myself to be so and not worry about being manly enough.
I actually do enjoy dancing, as long as I’m listening to my music and I’m just freestyling and doing whatever comes naturally.
And I actually have always secretly loved magenta, because I think it’s actually a really strong color.
I think the fact that I’ve been dancing around to Foxygen the entire time I’ve been writing this is telling. Alone in my study, insulated in my own little world to my own soundtrack, confident that no one can see me, wearing my favorite jean skirt and these adorable white sneakers, I’m free to dance and smile and exist.
This moment feels undeniably me, and it gives me hope that this process of uncovering what is authentically me will yield some promising, and maybe surprising, truths.
Which I suppose is the point, right? If you’re going to embrace your authentic self and express it, then it’s okay to take the time to discover what that is.
And who cares if it involves plush avocados and jean skirts and a song most people would say “Wait, you’re dancing to what” to and have it on endless repeat because this all somehow makes you feel truly alive?
Besides, I honestly don’t know the first thing about transmissions, and I hate baseball, so what other choice do I have but to embrace the authentic me? Either that, or build another IKEA bookshelf.