Am I Trans?
“Am I trans?”
This question is just three words, but the moment it arises in your body and mind for the first time, it can really pack a wallop. For many folks, asking this question represents a much longer journey. This often starts when something inspires us to start questioning things about ourselves, the way we show up in the world, how we feel, and what it all means. The pandemic has created conditions under which many folks have been examining these questions for the first time, and as such, there are a lot of people who are coming to this question right now in many different ways.
When I first asked myself this question, I came up with a million different versions of “nope.” I couldn’t be trans! I told myself that I was just self-hating, or that I had internalized the misogyny of my abusive father, or that I wanted to be special or cool in a way that was disingenuous to my experience. I told myself that I hadn’t known when I was a child, so I couldn’t really be trans. I told myself that I wasn’t masculine enough, that I wasn’t trans enough to be trans, that I was [insert many other labels here] instead.
It took years for me to accept that I could try hormones, that I could let myself want top surgery, that I could ask for different pronouns, that I could change my name. This process occupied the majority of my twenties—I was nearly 29 when I started T—and wove around the other events of my life, sometimes in the background, other times primary and urgent. It was a long path, and maybe I will discuss it in more detail at various points, but at no point did I feel like this question—am I trans?—was the one that brought me clarity.
Labels and Non-Linearity
Part of the issue with asking yourself if you are trans is that, inevitably, you likely have a lot of emotional baggage associated with the word “trans” and the implications that it has for you. Some of this emotional baggage comes to you along with everyone else through the diffusion of culture. Myths, stereotypes, harmful assumptions, and run-of-the-mill transphobia float throughout media, social media, interpersonal interactions, policies and procedures, and more, providing us with strange and misguided ideas about gender and sex.
As a scholar of transgender history and culture, one of the things that has surprised me is how many of the misconceptions about trans identity come directly from the work of cisgender researchers, doctors, and psychologists who research and write about trans people. I wrote a multipart series on the idea of “trans enough,” which absolutely falls into this category. But it is not the only thing that does—and it will take quite a few blog posts to untangle the many webs of misinformation I’ve personally discovered just by combing through the early writings of people like Harry Benjamin and John Money.
Anyway, my point here is that labels, especially big labels like “trans,” are laden with a lot of cultural baggage. So when you ask yourself, “Am I trans?,” you are inevitably asking yourself a much bigger question. And if you, like many of us, experience trans imposter syndrome, these luggage carts full of cultural baggage will give you ample reasons to question and reject yourself.
The fact is, even a label as big and vast as “trans” doesn’t necessarily give you the room that you need to truly explore. It doesn’t give you the non-linear, curving, unclear space that you need to wade through to find your gender, your expression, and to decide what makes sense to you as an individual, free from the restrictions of a label.
Further, labels such as “trans” are steeped in white, Western understandings of sex and gender. There are many people of various cultures who have a far more capacious understanding of gender. While Western colonialism and capitalism have negatively impacted many gender expansive cultural traditions, folks are doing the work of locating and reclaiming their culture’s individual approach to gender. As a white settler, I can’t really speak to the nuances of these identities as anything but an outsider. However, I am indebted to the work of J Mase III , Akwaeke Amezi, Jules Gil-Peterson, Prentis Hemphill, and countless TikTok videos and classroom discussions for helping me cultivate a more nuanced perspective on this topic.
But Labels Are Useful!
We live in a culture that really, really likes labels. And if you come out, or even ask people to use another name or pronoun, you may experience folks pushing back by asking you how you identify. Or, you may be pressuring yourself to find (and ultimately conform to) a label so that you can feel like your journey, your identity, is valid. This makes perfect sense—labels can be a great way to feel a little less alone in this world, to feel like your complicated, messy feelings and experiences have some sort of grand, unifying theme that puts you in automatic community with others.
However, labels are inherently poor fitting. There’s too much individual variation for any label to fit any person perfectly. And when we rely on labels to tell us who we are, we are at risk of denying certain parts of ourselves in favor of conforming to someone else’s narrative. Further, relying on a label can paradoxically increase feelings of alienation and make us feel even less valid in our identities and experiences.
I am fond of saying that a label should serve you, not the other way around. Its perfectly valid to choose a label that best approximates your experience, just as it is valid to refuse a label. You can have different labels for different situations and different relationships, and your labels do not have to conform to anyone else’s idea of valid. Your labels can shift and change, can reflect what is most convenient in a given moment, can be self-created or portmanteaus.
Alternatives to “Am I Trans?”
So how do you explore your gender if not through labels? There’s no one single/simple answer to this question, which might frustrate some folks. Being in that unknown, unclear space can be a lot, and it’s often pretty uncomfortable. Yet, that space can be the most productive space for journeys of self discovery.
A good place to start is with my Gender Exploration Mini-Workbook, which you can get for absolutely free when you sign up for my newsletter. (If you’re already signed up, just shoot me an email and I can send along the pdf!) This workbook asks five questions to help you start thinking about your gender in new ways, and gives you space to answer them.
Other forms of self-exploration are also easily adapted to gender questioning. Journaling, meditation, breath work, community support/discussion groups, therapy, or working with a gender doula like myself can all be paths that lead you to more awareness around your gender. In this, too, it’s worth giving yourself room to try, to explore, to be flexible. After all, meditation doesn’t always work for folks, especially neurodivergent folks and those who learn/explore in ways that are more tactile and hands-on. Try not to judge yourself if your mind wanders when you try to meditate, or if breath work doesn’t serve you.
One thing that was absolutely vital to my personal journey was permissioning myself. Even though at times I was sure that I was a terrible trans imposter, it was opening myself up to the idea that I could claim a trans identity that helped me finally do so. Your questioning and exploration is vital, but it is just as vital (or moreso) to give yourself permission to embrace what you find.
If you’re looking for reasons to question and doubt your gender identity, journey, or expression, you will find them. So instead, I recommend letting yourself lean in to what feels right. Sometimes, that means giving yourself the space to not answer questions about your label or your process. Sometimes, that means keeping your identity or your journey to a small group of trusted folks, or even just privately to yourself for awhile. And sometimes, that means learning to be okay with fluidity, gray areas, and the unknown.
Easy peasy, right?
Of course not. But reminding yourself that it’s okay to live in draft is a great start.
I love you. Happy exploring!