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On November 20th, 2023 I had an intake appointment with a new therapist. I've been to therapy, I was in therapy, but this therapist was different, and I knew she could help me with something I was struggling with for a while.

Consciously for two years by my count. I would go through a week of agony knowing that something in the way that I was, was wrong. And then the next day it would be gone, like a light switch flipped. Then it would lay dormant for four months and then return. Then the gap was only three months and the agony lasted weeks. Then every month or so the agony returned for a month. Then the only thing that would keep the agony at bay was convincing myself that those weeks of reprieve was enough to justify inaction. But then the agony would come back, and I would cry just reading the title of Amanda Roman's article from 2019 "It's Just a Fetish, Right?" because I knew this article knew what I was thinking. I knew it knew exactly what denial was going through my head, and, God, if only I had the strength to read it but- And then the next day, the agony was gone for a moment, so I kept going.

In October of last year I went on a trip, a treat to myself for graduating college. In my head I think of it like the eighteen year-olds that go on their missions for the church I grew up in, because after I got back to this day I cannot shut up about it. Just a loop around the country, maybe I'll make some writing on that because I really cannot shut up about it.

I was in Kansas City at some upscale neighborhood searching and failing to find a postcard in every store, just Taylor Swift votive candles “they work fast” I thought. And it got dark. And I was on a street alone. And I had never been to this city. And I was a thousand miles from home. The thought "If I was a woman, I would not feel safe" came across my mind. Another thought: "But I still want to be one, right?"

I got home on a Thursday a couple weeks later. Many of my best friends were at our screenwriting class, which I just did not have the strength to go to, it was a twelve hour drive that day, but I was absolutely going to chime in on our secret Discord chat column. Now, you might see the "But I still want to be one, right?" as an important realization that you can't go back from. And you'd be right, but keep in mind this agony denial cycle had me in its clutches. Because this was a conversation I had in this chat after the idea of names for my dear friend's, then upcoming, baby.

Some context before we begin, I was using he/they pronouns at the time. I knew something was up given the immense cycles of agony, but that was the closest I could come to addressing it.

10/19/2023

9:49 PM

Myself: "The name I'd name my theoretical daughter is the same as the name I'd pick if I transitioned. People have told me that's a pretty trans thing to say but I swear I just like this girl's name and know what I'd go with if I get to name any girl"

Jude (a trans man, himself): "THIS IS SO TRANS AND ALSO SO SWEET WHAT'S THE NAME "

9:50 PM

Suzee (the mother that prompted this): "i love this"

Myself: "Dani but not Danielle. But if I named a boy it would be Danny. I swear I'm not trans*

*TBD"

9:50 PM

Jude: "You get a little trans as a treat"

9:51 PM

Suzee: "lol at the TBD"

Myself: "I'd be lying if I said I never had a trans thought"

Jude (who is a saint trying to make me feel better): "[DEADNAME] if you're still using he/they pronouns I think you get to count"

9:52 PM

Myself (it did not make me feel better): "Yes but saying I'm trans at that level feels like stolen valor because literally nothing changed lmao"

Suzee: "STOLEN VALOR"

In retrospect I don't know if there is a funnier three minutes of my life. What the hell was I thinking? How could I admit it in Kansas City, stare down at it here, and not get over that hump? I KNOW what I was thinking at the time, and I know I was not consciously fishing for help when sending these messages, I was just sharing my baby name list. Subconsciously, definitely a cry for help. I did that all the time, see the years of “I should get my ears pierced but I’m too scared.”

From here I think it is more or less obvious where this goes from here. I stay stuck in this liminal space for longer. My beloved friend Jude helps me while we procrastinate making our Warhammer armies. I think about going as a girl to Halloween, but go as Stripper Bane again because I spent way too much on my trip to buy a new costume. I try a bra on and cry because it does not instantly solve all my issues like I had hoped. I buy it anyway. I wear it to work every day and I love it but I can't admit what it means.

Which brings us back to November 20th, 2023. My therapist canceled on me. I mean, god, it was just an intake appointment and she canceled on me? And I cried. A lot. What was I even thinking? I knew it was an intake appointment. Did I think she was going to look at me and say "you're trans and you know it?" I mean, she basically did a week later at the rescheduled date, but why would I expect that?

This month following my trip, I had been making a specific effort to lean into it. The agony had been too much and the only solution was to explore. Sure, ever since I started using he/they I had started wearing skirts (poorly), but now I was making an effort to wear it more often (still poorly).Hell, I went and bought a shitty $3 sports bra from Walmart just to see how it felt. 

I knew what I needed to do. If I ever wanted the agony cycles to end, I only had one option. I stopped crying, and I texted the aforementioned Jude, Suzee, my favorite European Rilie, and the dear Wisconsinite friend that housed me the night after my night in KC, MJ.

I asked them to call me Dani. Not Danielle, just Dani. I knew by the end of the day. For sure.

Truly I have never been happier. Granted, the last two weeks have been rough on us all, but the proceeding fifty were the best of my life. Not that it has been easy, of course not. But before I thought “love yourself” was more of an idea of how to treat yourself, not that there was any way to actually love yourself. I’ll tell you what, I do now. My whole life I could always be optimistic for the world and for my friends, but I could never imagine my own future. Turns out that wasn’t just “an autism thing” for me like I thought! I cry now? At movies? At the mere thought that my friends care about me? I feel free from a constraint that never had to be there.

And it all started on November 20th.

It is funny though. November 20th is the fucking day after Transgender Awareness Week. How annoying is that? It is Trans Day of Remembrance, but this planet will be a ball of fire before I die and you need to remember me. My birthday is the 23rd of November, Thanksgiving day the year I was born. I got to spend all of my 23rd year on this planet, my golden year I've heard it called, as Dani. I love that! And starting Saturday I get to spend all of my 24th year as Dani. 

Dates are things that have no inherent meaning, so it feels a little silly to me to celebrate today like I do. But isn’t that everything? If we really want to dive into my one semester of critical theory then words have no inherent meaning. Names. Books. People. Everything only has meaning because we give it meaning. On November 20th, and I apologize I’m one sappy motherfucker, I gave my life a new meaning

Published on November 20th, 2024