An Imperfect Introduction


Hey inter-fam,

Welcome to my first official uploaded post. If you took the time to read My Coming Out As Transgender | My Experience thank you, although I do have a little tinnie weenie confession to make. That blog that posted I had already wrote about a year and a half ago for a piece for my friend, a transgender activist and amazing speaker Justine Smithies – this is the link if you want to check out her website

If you’re transgender and looking for useful information I highly suggest you check out this website (and you can read the original blog post I entered on there too, and you’ll also have the pleasure of seeing me pre-transition, as a boy! yikes!) It has amazing info, stories and much more to read. Also if you want to check out Justine’s blog you can check it out here.

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Coming out as transgender | My experience


Coming out is a scary thing, and sometimes the ‘what ifs’ can be the thing that prevent ourselves from becoming who we truly are and stop us from matching ourselves from the outside, to how we feel on the inside – and for me it was no different.

When we are kids we tend to be who we really are, we act how we want to act and say what we want to say. I think that’s because as young kids we don’t know about the harsh judgement of society. When I was a young child I remember constantly dressing up as a girl, tights over my head and putting on my older sisters lipstick whilst singing along to ‘Reflection – Christina Aguilera’ on the Disney film Mulan and remembering feeling such a connection with it – and to be honest I still feel that same connection. Everyone in my family knew I loved dressing up as a girl, my cousins, sisters and parents. My mother let me experiment, my cousins used to have fun dressing me up and of course my sisters liked to poke fun, but the real issues wasn’t from the playful teasing from my sisters, it came from mental and physical abuse from my father. “Poof” “freak” “weirdo” – I soon learned what I was doing was something that “wasn’t normal”, and that was the beginning of my fathers resentment towards me and my own self conscious imagine… and hate. Continue Reading