Transition Update: Six Years on Testosterone
Six years ago today I took my first shot of testosterone, marking the beginning of my medical journey from female to male. The year was 2015 and Obama was still president; something I took into consideration while planning my lifelong adherence to this questionable path of existence. I remember marking “Take T” on my calendar and highlighting it; the first of hundreds.
Transitioning looks different for everyone. For me, I knew that the six year mark would be big. Similar to exiting puberty after six years of acne, hyper-hormonal growth and attitude, I knew that half decade mark was the sweet spot for feeling more settled.
Although now I’m 29, on the cusp of my thirties. I’m so far away from my high school graduation that I should have had a 10 year reunion, but it was cancelled due to the pandemic. There’s a concert this summer featuring my favorite high school bands called, “When We Were Young”. However despite feeling old, my hormones still did crazy things. Fortunately (unlike an actual teenager) my prefrontal cortex works just fine. But try looking like age 16 when you’re in fact in your mid-to-late 20’s. It’s a trip.
At first it was unbelievable, the way people treat you when they think you’re a 16 year old “white boy”. Older men taking me under their wing, showing me the ropes of “being a man”. Little do they know, they’re those same old “white boys” that have discriminated against me my whole life, once rendered incapable of receiving their “wise knowledge” because I was perceived to be “a female”. Not to mention at age 18, identifying as Melissa, I was perceived as “a mature woman for my age” by men of similar stature. Nothing screams patriarchal more than that type of man, except for the type of man that pretends women don’t exist. Those individuals became really obvious once I began passing as male; now attune to get my attention and compliment me on my car or my style.
I remember when I used to walk the streets of the city alone in the dark, back when I identified as Melissa, pre-t. Dead streets with long shadows. Dark green bushes only illuminated by the street lamps, sometimes far and few between. My anxiety was always slightly heightened, as I used all my senses to detect who and what was around me. Was that rustle just a squirrel? Or was it someone coming around the corner? If someone was following me for a good while, I’d tighten my grip on my keys and maybe pickup my pace. If someone was casted in shadow and moving toward me in the dark, it was best to just cross the street and avoid confrontation, unless I could tell it was another woman. If the person seemed femme presenting, I would usually feel more relaxed, as there’s safety in numbers. Unlike many of my femme friends, catcallers weren’t so interested in me. I’ve always presented a bit too masculine for their tastes. Nevertheless, the general anxiety of walking alone on the streets was still prevalent within me and is a commonly shared feeling among women.
Yet it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of anxiety. I recount the last time; it was about 5 years ago. I was walking down the street at midnight, headed a few blocks to a friend’s. It was dark, cloudy, and cold for a late summer night. Fighting the shivers I was walking briskly, with my hood up and my hands stuffed in my sweatshirt pockets. I saw a figure coming toward me at an average pace. It was a femme presenting person, to which I felt at ease. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. Before I had time to wonder why, I watched her quickly cross the street, glancing back at me as she did so. When we passed each other, with two lanes of gravel between us, I looked at her. She looked back at me in fright, which was accentuated by her wide eyes, raised eyebrows, pursed lips, and gait speed increase. I remember thinking “damn, now I’m the threat.” That was the first time of many where I’ve deliberately watched my old tactic used against me.
Although people’s perception of me has changed, my personality remains the same as ever. This juxtaposition is one that can’t be summed up in one post, video, or story. Yet it’s a fascinating life perspective that I will continue sharing because I think its valuable to hear both sides of the gender spectrum. The reality is, gender is just a social construct. Yes, I feel amazing as a man. Yet it is less about being “a man” and more about living as my authentic self. My lower voice, prominent jawline, elastic smile, and masculine features are all heightened by the testosterone, which makes me as happy as ever.
I remember wondering how I was going to feel by the six year mark. I didn’t know what to expect, other than hope for a life worth living. I’ll say, it got worse before it got better. I’ve never once regretted my transition but damn, it’s been a ride. With heavy bouts of depression, trauma and recovery, my transition has been a process. Yet now I can say, with confidence, that I’m thankful I decided to follow my inner voice and go after this epic change. I feel congruent in mind and body, which has given a sense of peace and contentment within myself and my life like never before.
To celebrate this six year milestone, I’ve linked more about my transition story below. “Transitioning from Female to Male” features a creative production that captures my first 15 months of hormonal transition.
A little piece of video art showing my transition from female to male. Pre-T to 15 Months on Testosterone.
Please remember that everyone's story is different. Everyone goes through their own personal struggles on their journey. My changes are still constant and far from over, but for the first time I'm looking forward to where my life takes me. This is my story.
