Be a girl

I can be a girl.

Such a simple statement, but one that for the longest time I never believed could be true. A hopeless impossibility, as far as I was concerned. But no more. I could no longer continue to lie to myself like that; I’d endured enough pain already.

There was a sense of yearning. Sure, I’d come to accept that I can be a girl. That I am a girl. But this was really only the start of the journey. I still hated my body; the difference now was that I finally had the knowledge and language to explain why. It was simultaneously freeing and terrifying. Helpful and unhelpful.

The sense of relief was bittersweet. For the first time I knew the real me, not some façade that I put up to placate others – a futile attempt to protect myself. The gnawing sensation that lingered in the back of my mind for all those years was suddenly forced into the spotlight, where it found its new home. I was a girl, but my body did not match my internal sense of self. That incongruence had become unignorable. Except now, I also knew that something could be done about it.

I wasn’t going to get the magical solution I’d always dreamt of obtaining – what I could bestow upon others. Pining after the impossible had only led me down into the depths of despair. I’d learnt of a way that could relieve my woes – one that didn’t involve magic. And although it wouldn’t be perfect, it would give me a body in which I could be happy and comfortable.

I wasn’t there yet though. I needed patience. Which really was quite difficult. I had a long journey ahead of me; a journey which both excited and terrified me. But it was a path I knew I wouldn’t have to tread alone. My friends had proven that they were willing to hold my hand and help me along the way. Friends who’d helped me get this far in the first place.

And then there was my dad. If there was one person whom I knew would support me through this, it was him. Despite what I’d done to him, he never held it against me. He’d always looked out for me through my darkest moments, even when he was struggling himself. He didn’t have to do all that. He could have easily resented me, blamed me for what I’d done, and focused purely on himself. But he didn’t.

I knew that I’d have to tell him sooner rather than later. But I wasn’t ready. Not yet. Working up the courage to lay myself so bare to my father seemed like such a daunting endeavour. Even with the knowledge that he would accept me unconditionally. Just saying the words seemed almost impossible.

But it was necessary, no matter how difficult it seemed. I didn’t know what was preventing me from just saying it, but I needed to push through it. This was more important than anything. It was the first step towards a better future. The first step on a long road. And it was by far the hardest.

I needed time. Time to work through the vortex of emotions. Time to come to terms with what being a girl meant for me, and for my future. Time to plan how exactly I should tell dad. Time to build up the necessary courage.

And time to apologise to someone to whom I’d been so incredibly awful these past few months. I’d said so many nasty things to her because of the pain I was going through, but she never deserved any of those harsh words. I was so ashamed of myself for how I’d treated her.

I kept my epiphany a secret from dad after returning home on that fateful day at Isabel’s home. She’d graciously helped me clean off all the makeup and return me to my former ugly self. She reassured me that I was a beautiful girl no matter what.

The following Monday, I resolved to apologise to Claire first thing in the morning. It stung having to pretend to be a boy now that I knew the truth, but I pushed through the discomfort as best I could. It was more difficult than before, now that I was aware of the source of the pain; I couldn’t disregard it so easily anymore.

As I approached my locker before the official start of the school day, I saw Claire already waiting there for me. I intended to apologise immediately, but before I could even say a single word, she wrapped me up in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so so so so sorry!” she cried.

A brief moment passed before I realised why she was apologising to me: the formal. Despite only being a few days ago, it felt like an eternity ago. I was a completely different person then. I honestly didn’t even want to think about it. It was in the past now, and it needed to stay there.

When Claire finally released me from her tight grip, I peered up at her to see two slow streams of tears trickling down her face. She sniffled and wiped them away. “I never should have abandoned you at the formal,” she said. “None of that ever would have happened if I’d just kept my promise and stayed with you the entire time.” She placed both hands on my shoulders and stared dejectedly at the floor. “I’m such a terrible friend.”

“It’s ok, Claire,” I replied. She looked back up at me remorsefully, and her face softened slightly. “I forgive you. You couldn’t have known that Jesse would try something like that. It’s not your fault.”

“I still feel bad about it. I” – she hiccoughed – “Jesse had always been so nice to me, but after what he did… I don’t know if I can keep being friends with him.”

I let out a sigh. Claire was finally realising Jesse’s true nature. It wasn’t right for her to remain friends with him after everything he’d done.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

We both stood in silence for a short while. It was evident that Claire had said everything she had wanted to, and she seemed satisfied that I had forgiven her. But we weren’t done here. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I wanted to apologise too,” I said.

Claire perked up at me, tilting her head slightly in confusion. “What for?”

I sighed. “I’ve been a terrible friend to you. After the sleepover, I lashed out in anger, said some abhorrent things to you, then refused to speak to you for weeks. You were only trying to help me. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Oh, Bea,” Claire said with a friendly smile. “That was all my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard back then. And while you were probably a bit too harsh with me, I needed to be told to back off. I’m just glad everything worked out in the end.”

She pulled me in for another hug, much gentler this time. I leant into her embrace, each softly comforting the other. “Congrats on the gender,” she whispered into my ear. I blinked and we pulled apart. She smirked down at me.

She knew about my realisation? I briefly wondered whether Izzy had gone behind my back to tell Claire before I remembered her power. Of course she knew. I couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Thanks,” I said softly. “Can you not tell the others? There’s someone I want to come out to first.”

“My lips are sealed,” she replied, making a motion like she was zipping up her lips. I hoped she would keep her word.

***

I stood in the lounge room, behind my dad. He was sitting on the lounge, watching tv, totally unaware of my presence. James had already gone to bed for the night, so it was just him and me.

I rubbed my thighs nervously, up and down. I focused on my breathing, in and out, as I steeled myself to tell dad about my recent epiphany. It had taken a few days to build up the courage to tell him, but I couldn’t put it off any longer.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. That was when dad noticed me standing awkwardly behind him. He turned in his seat, a confused expression on his face at first, but that quickly switched to mild concern.

“Ben? What’s the matter?” he asked.

This was it. All I had to do was say it. My fists clenched. Then unclenched. Just say it. Tell him that you’re transgender. That you’ve always wanted to be a girl. That you want to start living as one. That you want to go by Bea from now on, and not that false moniker you’ve always worn. Just say the words!

But nothing came out. Not even a desperate whimper. I simply stood there, staring at my father, my hands slowly rubbing against my thighs. I hated that I could never get the words out whenever I needed them most. That my throat always seized up at the most important times. I was stupid for thinking that this would ever work. I should have just written him a letter detailing my thoughts instead.

I started turning to leave the room, but dad called out to me before I took even a single step. “Wait! Why don’t you come sit down? I need to tell you something.”

I stared back at him, hesitant. I wanted to go grab a piece of paper and a pen, so that I could tell him everything I needed to. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I oblige his request now? Or acquire the writing implements first? I figured the latter was better, since delaying would give me more opportunity to chicken out. And I couldn’t afford that at such a crucial time. If I didn’t do it now, it would just become more and more difficult as time went on. I couldn’t have that.

“Please hear me out first,” dad said. “This is important.”

I was still hesitant, but dad insisted. So long as I remembered to follow through on telling him after he was done, I could hear him out. I sat down next to him, he turned off the tv, then forced a smile up at me which I was unable to return.

He suddenly sighed and stared down at his lap. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” he said wistfully. “I probably should have told you this sooner, but I was worried about how you might react. Seeing you standing there though, struggling to speak, I realised I had to tell you.” He paused for a moment as he stared back up at me. My head was filled only with thoughts about what exactly he could be talking about.

“I can read minds,” he finally said.

My eyes widened. He could read minds!? WHAT!?!?

“Yeah,” he added.

Since when could he do that!?

“Ever since my last birthday. I don’t know why, or how, but whenever I look at someone, I can read their thoughts.”

I almost didn’t believe it, but my prior experience with magic made me lean on the side of him telling the truth, even without evidence. But wait, his birthday? That was over a month ago! He’d been able to read my mind for that entire time?

“I’m sorry. I really should have told you sooner. But I was so ashamed and worried. I hate that I can do this.”

Well, he wasn’t the only one in this house who hated the power granted to them.

“Yeah, that’s true,” dad sighed.

Wait, if dad had been able to read minds since his birthday, what information had he gleaned from me in that time? I’d spent the past several days constantly thinking about coming out to him as trans. Did he know about that?

“Yes.”

My heart skipped a beat. He knew. Without me even telling him. Tears began welling in my eyes. He knew. It was such immense relief. He knew, and he hadn’t once judged me, or shunned me.

I wished that he could have told me about this sooner. But at the same time, I understood why he had refrained. I felt somewhat violated that he could peer into my mind, but he likely didn’t have much choice in the matter. I couldn’t blame him for that. I trusted that he would never use such a power against me.

Dad began softly stroking my back as tears fell onto my lap. All this anxiety and worry, and I never even needed to say anything. I felt conflicted. On the one hand, that made it easier for me, but at the same time, I wanted to say the words out loud. Just to know that I could say them. To know that I could overcome the fear and speak during a moment my voice would normally give out.

“If you want to say it out loud, then you should. I won’t take that away from you.”

I forced a smile, though I didn’t look over at him. I sniffled and wiped my eyes. I gripped my thighs and took a long, deep breath. I could do this. I knew I could. I looked over at dad, whose eyes glistened from the beginnings of tears. I could do this.

“Dad…” I managed to say. Another deep breath. “I’m… transgender. I’m… a girl. My name… is… Bea.”

Dad gently grasped my shoulder, and slowly pulled me into a side hug. “It’s nice to meet you, Bea. I’m proud of you.”

We stayed together for a while. Dad softly stroked my side while I leaned into him, sobbing. I’d said it. I’d said it. I’d revealed my biggest secret; the secret I’d previously sworn to never tell a soul.

And it was such a relief. It had been a struggle, but I’d persevered with dad’s help. He truly was the best dad I could have ever hoped for.

I eventually calmed down, and the waterworks slowed to a halt. I started thinking. If he’d known this whole time, why hadn’t he said anything sooner? I’d been anxious about this moment for the better part of a week. Was all my stress just for nothing?

“Hey, don’t think like that,” dad said, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t want to say anything because I knew that you’d want to tell me once you were ready. When I saw you struggling to get the words out, and frustrated because of it, I knew that it was time.”

How long have you known I’m transgender? I thought to him.

“About as long as I’ve been able to read minds, but I’ve had suspicions for much longer than that.”

What!?

“You came home one day with your hair in ponytails, wearing a dress, and with your toenails painted. It’s not definitive evidence but…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture instead of finishing the sentence.

He had a point. The sleepover was before his birthday, so he wouldn’t have been able to read minds then. But suspecting that I might be transgender after coming home wearing a dress was probably a reasonable assumption. At the time, I hadn’t wanted to dwell on what dad might think of me coming home looking like that, so I’d locked the memory away in the furthest recesses of my mind.

“You do also think about being a girl a lot, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.”

I blushed profusely at that. It wasn’t like I could help it! It had been the only thing I’d ever truly wanted for a long time now, so much so that it was difficult to want for anything else. Well, now it was finally time to start working towards that. Sure, I already was a girl, but that didn’t mean I was where I wanted to be.

“Where do you want to be then?” dad asked.

An excellent question. More importantly than anything else, I wanted a body in which I could live happily. And for that, I needed to start taking hormones. But the path towards that was not one I would be able to take on my own. I needed dad.

Dad smiled at me. “I can help with that. Though it might take a while to get an appointment, sadly.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“I would do anything to help you live a happy life,” dad said, giving my shoulder another squeeze. I smiled, glad to have a parent who genuinely cared for my wellbeing. Who didn’t try to push me to do what they thought I needed, but rather listened to me, and helped me with what I actually needed.

My mind ran through all the little moments of dad encouraging me, gently guiding me, but never forcing me. All the times he’d told me that I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge. I hadn’t believed him for so long. I thought he would shun me if he ever found out about me wanting the very thing that caused him so much pain. But he never did, and for that I couldn’t be more grateful.

I thought about all the times he’d asked me if I was comfortable doing something which I was very much not, and yet still forced myself to go through anyway. Like when I forced myself to wear a suit at the formal.

Wait, did he know that I would have rather worn a dress, and that’s why he had tried to steer me away from that?

“Yes,” dad answered. “I also knew the only reason you even wanted to go to that formal was to help me get my old body back.”

Oh. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. That was information I’d specifically withheld because I didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have them dashed if I failed. But it was all for naught.

“Hey, don’t feel bad, I know you were only trying to help.”

I cupped my cheek in my hand. I suppose, I thought.

Dad sighed and looked away from me to stare at the blank tv. “If you don’t mind, I prefer having conversations with actual words.”

Right. That was probably a better way to converse than projecting my thoughts to him while he responded out loud. Especially given that he’d expressed his distaste towards his ability earlier. “Ok,” I said.

“Thank you,” dad nodded, keeping his gaze off of me. “Now, I wanted to ask: do you want to tell James about you being transgender?”

I pursed my lips. My brother certainly deserved to know about me, but I was somewhat worried about how he might react. After all, I had ruined his life by transforming him. He hated being treated like a girl, being referred to by a girl’s name, wearing girly clothing. All things which made my heart flutter when thinking about those things in reference to me. He might not understand.

“We should,” I replied, “But not yet. I’m just a bit worried he won’t understand.”

“Don’t worry, Bea, I’m sure he’ll get it just fine.”

A rush of euphoria hit me as dad called me ‘Bea’. Somehow, it felt more special hearing it from him. It brought a smile to my face and a tear to my eye. I could really get used to this.