ccitro
Synopsis
A boy that was born in a girl's body. Sounds simple typed out like that, but as Andrew Thomas (previously known as Rachel) is about to learn, in society, it's not that simple at all. His home life is in shambles after he comes out, his social life, nearly completely gone, and if he had a dollar for every time someone decided to make some sort of ignorant remark to him at school, he'd probably have enough money to drop out and live comfortably in a hut somewhere far, far away from the burning eyes of his peers. Follow Andrew through his journey as he tries to have people understand what he's going through, who he truly is on the inside, and all the small (and rather large) bumps along the way.
Excerpt
Flashbacks were suddenly cascading through my mind. Vivid memories of when I was thirteen, when my gender issues, my self identity issues first came into play. Well, they were first extremely prevalent. An image of myself at that age looking in the mirror, trying to shove my breasts down to stop them from growing. They had just started becoming extremely noticeable, and I hated it. Hated everything about what was happening to me. I was so confused. Weren't girls supposed to be happy when their chests started to become noticeable? Wasn't it some sort of rite of passage for a female? All I felt was wrong, though. If I kept squeezing them down, I thought they might go away, or at least not be as prominent, but to no avail. Come to think of it, I wish I had known of binding back then. Maybe now it wouldn't be so difficult and painful every day because of how much I've gotta shove down. Anyway. Getting off track again. Fond memories of joking around with friends about how I should've been born a boy, but whatever God there was made me a girl just to laugh at my existence flashed through my mind. Journal entries at three in the morning, tears streaming down my face about how I couldn't sleep because in my dreams, I was a boy, and it was too amazing to handle waking up. Not only that, but also since I felt as if I couldn't tell anyone about how I felt, I needed somewhere and some time to rant. Somewhere to reveal all my darkest desires, if you'd call desperately wishing I was born with a penis, without breasts, and with more testosterone than estrogen a desire, which now that I think about it, you could.
Then the tell all moment. I met a trans guy online around May of 2011. I talked to him a lot about how I felt, and it terrified me how much he related to all of what I was feeling before he came out. The anguish, the fear, the denial, the desperation to be normal. I did some incredibly stupid things in an effort to feel normal. I tried wearing frilly dresses and mini skirts and flaunting myself to boys. Hell, I'd even had sex with a boy, just to feel as if I was a “normal” girl, but at the end of the day, all those thoughts came crawling back. I couldn't escape them, no matter how hard I tried. As Jack (the trans guy I met) put it, I couldn't escape from myself, from who I'd been my entire life.
Near the end of that month, I'd finally come to terms with it. I was sobbing in my room, blasting The Cure. I actually had to say it out loud multiple times. I remembered exactly what I said.
“My name is Rachel Thomas and I'm a man trapped in a woman's body.”
Tears started to well up in my eyes.
“My name is Rachel Thomas and I'm a man trapped in a woman's body.”
I sniffled, my vision becoming blurry and unfocused.
“My name is Rachel Thomas and I'm a man trapped in a woman's body.”
I started to cry again, then searched my mind for a specific conversation I knew I'd had with my mother. I'd asked her what she would've named me if I was born a boy. She said Andrew, after her late father that I'd never gotten the opportunity to meet before I was born. Ever since then, I'd loved the name. It was my favorite, and I'd convinced myself that I was going to name my first son Andrew, yet in that moment I knew. I had to adopt it for myself. I had to fess up. I was able to say it once more before I broke into hysterical sobs.
“My name is Andrew Thomas and I'm a man trapped in a woman's body.”
By the time I'd stopped crying, Lullaby had come on and I turned my stereo up even further in an attempt to drown out my racing thoughts. I knew the truth then, though. There was no hiding from it anymore, no running from it. Not after I'd said it so many times, not after so many years of confusion and anger and self hatred. There was simply no other explanation, and I had come to a point in my life where I needed to accept that.
