Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out by Susan Kuklin Read Free Book Online Page A

long pretty fast. I dyed it red, cut it to my jaw, and then got bangs. I had to shave constantly — ugh, that’s so annoying. I wore tighter clothes, but they were boy clothes. I didn’t plan on telling my mom. I wanted her to figure it out for herself.
    I tried to think of ways to make me look more feminine. I bought a lot of pink things. The thing that made my mom think I was gay was that my cell phone was attached to a key chain that had pink beads, hearts, and a little bunny. It was clearly for a girl.
    My mom said, “We’re going to your godparents’ house. Can you do me a favor and take that thing off your phone?”
    “Why? Why can’t I have this on my phone?”
    She said, “Because that’s for girls.”
    “Who said this is for girls? Why can’t a boy have it? There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    She got fed up. “Okay, Matthew, I know you’re gay. But that doesn’t mean you have to show the whole world you’re gay.”
    “Actually, Mom, I’m not gay.”
    “You like girls?”
    “No.”
    “So you like boys?” She looked so confused.
    “Yeah.”
    “So you’re gay.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “Well, what are you?”
    “Have you ever seen those people on
Maury
? The
Maury
show? Have you ever seen those people? ‘
Is it a guy? Is it a girl?
’ Well, that’s me. I’m transgender.”
    “What is that?”
    “I have a gender identity disorder, and I want to become a girl.” (I had diagnosed myself.)
    She was, like, “Okaaaaay, can you do me a favor and try not to show it as much?”
    “Okay.” I did her a favor and took the bunny off my cell phone.
    Sometimes I feel that my mom misses her son. She doesn’t tell me, but my brother told me he heard her crying about it one night. She misses her son. I told her, “I’m still the same person. I just look different.” I don’t understand why she feels the way she does because I’m not a parent.
    Once my mom knew, it was time to start making my moves. I told my dad. He said, “I always knew it.” I started crying because I had been so scared of his reaction. He said, “I love you. It doesn’t matter to me. I knew since you were a little kid that you always wanted to be a girl. And I knew it was coming.” He’s great.
    Senior year was fast approaching, and I had a lot of work to do.

    My senior year was my best and worst year in high school. The day before school started, I got my nails done. Pink. It was the first time I got my nails done, and I was so excited about it. To hide them from my mom, I walked around the house like this.
    Christina curls her hands into a fist to hide her nails.
    Eventually, my mom saw my nails and completely freaked out about it. “
Oh, my God,
why did you get your nails done?”
    “Because I wanted to.”
    “You’re going to get in trouble. You’re going to get hurt. Somebody’s going to hurt you, baby.” She wanted me to take them off.
    “No, Mom, I’ll be fine.” They were acrylic, and I was not going to take them off.
    I was so excited about the first day of school. I was so excited that I was actually starting the transition. I blew out my hair. I put on my makeup: purple eye shadow, mascara, blush, lip liner, and lipstick. Put on my blue button-down shirt, my tie, and my khaki pants. Seniors are required to wear gray sweaters. Before school started, I took my sweater to the tailor and said I wanted to make it tight and feminine. He made it really tight for me. Everybody else’s sweaters were baggy.
    That first day I walked outside, people just stared at me. I loved the attention. I didn’t think I looked like a girl yet, but there was something about people acknowledging me, wondering what I was, that made me happy.
    I walked through the school gate and into the auditorium. People’s jaws dropped. I walked down the aisle, saying, “Hi . . . hi there . . . oh, hey.” I was so happy. I wasn’t worried anymore. I was being me.
    People were going, “What
is
he doing?”
    The principal was