Queer Identity and My Journey to Self-Love

I’ve always felt different.

When I was a child playing with my siblings in the park, I could never understand why I always felt like I didn’t fit in with my family, or my peers, but I did. I thought that because I was weird or had a different understanding of social interaction than most,  I just drew people away. I never felt true belonging until after I had graduated high school––ironically, while quarantined in the midst of a deadly pandemic. Social distancing has given me time and space to reflect on my growth. As painfully dull and terrifying as it was, it allowed me to understand and appreciate how much I’ve evolved.

To give more background, my sophomore year of high school I was my school’s angsty punk kid, who wanted to be completely devoid of responsibility, and whose only outlet was the hard, sweaty concrete floor of a mosh pit. I would have never guessed that joy and self sustainability were in my future. I was miserable and I believed I was destined to stay that way.

I thought that confusion, anger, and sadness were all intertwined with my very DNA and that it was inescapable and that I HAD to embrace it. I never thought that I could ever self-actualize. I tried pretending like I was for a very long time, but my efforts were as fruitless as a withered mango tree. My suffering began to define me, it felt like a prison.. I became immensely antisocial and depressed and presumed that it was because of external forces.

I felt that people hated me, and in return, I hated them.

I felt trapped, and it felt enigmatic trying to discover why. I started senior year with the same level of bitterness and resentment that I had been carrying with me throughout the past three years. This time at a new school, surrounded by people I was entirely unfamiliar with. I had thought that if I got away from my old school, a place that was a big source of conflict for me, I could maybe loosen the noose that I had tied around my neck.

 The change of environment motivated me to examine my social behavior in a way I hadn’t before. Despite feeling out of place, harassment and general fear and anxiety in a new environment, the change of setting and social scene helped me change my perspective. I realized how disconnected I had become from those near me, and most importantly, disconnected from my true self. I wasn’t entirely alone though, my best friend was unlike any other I’d had before. He’s a friend who I could talk to for hours, and trust completely. One night, we were staying up late and talking about our feelings, which had become our habit, and he mentioned that he felt like there was someone in his life that was born a boy but actually a girl. I felt like he was talking about me so I asked “Do you think it’s me?” to which he replied “I don’t know, do you feel like a girl?” I had no reply for this. I was immediately doubtful and hesitant to explore this possibility.

I kept asking myself so many questions: What if I am actually a girl? What does being a girl even look like? Even if I was a girl, how could I live my life as one knowing that my parents would likely disown me if I ever told them? The more questions I began asking, the less strange the idea of me being a girl got until I finally texted my friend something along the lines of “I feel like I may actually be a girl but I have no idea what to do, please help.” He reassured me that feeling this level of confusion was normal, he also being trans, and gave me a long list of youtube videos to watch and articles to read. Stef Sanjati being one of the most helpful resources.

Once I became familiar with the terminology and fluidity of gender I began feeling more comfortable presenting in ways I thought were feminine, I started wearing eyeliner to school, and painting my nails, and wearing fishnets. All of this felt so strange and uncomfortable at first, not because it felt wrong, but because I was finally doing something that made me feel so liberated and happy, something that the old me was trying to feel so desperately.

I had been so identified with feeling bad that feeling good felt terrifying.

I thought for so long that I was doomed to a painfully incorrect existence, and when I finally understood that wasn’t true, I began to cry. I grieved for the years of my life believing that I was hopeless, I grieved for the opportunities I had missed because I was so weighed down by my anger and sadness. I cried for my old self, for me as a man, and I cried for me now, but this time not out of sadness but out of joy and liberation.

For me, the  realization that I would never have to identify with  being a man again was so cleansing to me. It felt like I was taking a warm shower in a giant rainbow. I had spent so many years of my life feeling awful and forsaken and I never would have thought that all I needed to do was look internally instead of externally. I had made the connection that to be a man, was to be utterly, insufferably, miserable. I hadn’t realized that I could actually change that. I now understand gender as a construct I can design for myself. Knowing this is the most gratifying experience I have ever felt. Turns out all I needed to feel loved was the right shade of lipstick, some eyeliner, and a poorly made DIY crop top.

For me, gender identity is like a slip n’ slide, you’re trying so hard to avoid falling off the tarp and stay on the path, but in reality it doesn’t matter because you’ll reach the bottom either way. For the majority of my life I’ve felt like I was walking around as a stranger in my own skin, realizing I was transgender was the most impactful discovery I have ever made. While realizing I was trans wasn’t easy whatsoever, it was a beautiful experience I will cherish  forever, because it not only taught me that I could affirm my own identity, but that I do matter as a human being.

Chelsea Novak (she/her) is a youth Peer Facilitator with Youth OUTright. She facilitates online discussion groups, youth programming, and consent and safer sex education. She enjoys making music with her roommates and can be often found battling with her cat.