TW: Gender Dysphoria, Transphobia early on, Homophobia early on
I was never allowed to feel like a girl when I was younger.
My dad insisted that I had to be a 'manly man,' while my mom chastised me for playing with dolls with my older sister. If I even showed the slightest interest in the color pink, then all hell would break loose. On weekends, I would help my dad to work on cars, or we would go to the park to watch women walk by while my dad catcalled them, egging me on to do the same.
I never felt like I belonged. I always had a gap in my knowledge about mechanics, or felt just the slightest bit off about watching women walk by like some kind of a pervert. Sometimes, I would see my mom in the kitchen cooking dinner and I realized that I wanted that: I wanted to be a doting housewife.
...it wasn't until I was seventeen that I realized I'm trans.
I'd found a community of people who were just like me. 'Eggs,' they called themselves. It turned out, the feelings I'd felt for all of my life were actually called 'dysphoria,' and it felt so, so good to finally belong and to understand why I felt the way I did.
Unfortunately, my parents didn't share my optimistic view of the situation.
I'd been overjoyed to finally know that I wasn't messed up somewhere along the line. Mom had just cried, and Dad... well, Dad yelled. A lot. He didn't hit me, but I'd almost expected it. All in all, they gave me the year. I had one year to 'get my shit together or get out,' as my dad instructed.
I got out.
On my eighteenth birthday, instead of a party, or a cake, I got twenty dollars for gas and the rest of the day to pack. I was devastated. I knew about Dad's ultimatum, but I never expected him to really kick me out. Even if he did misgender me and refuse to respect my gender, I was still his kid, right?
I didn't know what to do, so I called the one person I thought might understand, and she did. My sister Bella understood me all too well. Being gay, she'd experienced similar shunning from our parents. As I cried into my phone, she dropped everything she was doing and told me to 'get my ass over there.'
Opening the door and walking into a big hug was honestly the best thing I could have hoped for, and it was exactly what I needed. Even though I hadn't seen her since she moved out three years ago, it felt as if I was truly home.
"What are you wearing?" she asked after breaking our hug. "That's not what I expected, I mean."
I hadn't told her about my transition, and I wasn't sure if our parents had, but since she seemed surprised by my masculine clothes and posture, I could only imagine they had.
"J-just jeans," I replied reluctantly. It honestly hurt so much to use my old voice from before I'd begun my voice training. I'd worked so hard toward my feminine voice, and even if it wasn't perfect, it was better than my old 'boyish' voice. Sensing my discomfort, my sister began to eye me more critically and shook her head.
"No, no. That won't do at all. Come on. Let's get you some new clothes," she said, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the front door. Before I knew it, despite my protests, I soon found myself sitting in the passenger seat of her blue Impala, and we were zooming down the highway toward the mall.
The first shop we went into was a clothing shop that specialized in womens' clothing. Any time I'd even thought about looking at the shop -- even from the outside -- my parents had seemed to read my mind and steered me as far from it as possible. It felt almost surreal to be right outside the shop's doors and looking in.
"Look, I don't know about this. Maybe we shouldn't-" I began to argue, but my sister ignored my words and grabbed my hand once more, dragging me into the shop.
It wasn't as pink as I'd expected. The floor was a clean, white and blue tile flooring, cleanly waxed. The walls were a myriad of colors, but there were lots of blues and reds especially. Most of the pinks and purples came from the clothes themselves. My eyes trailed along the racks as I was dragged and I was watching in awe as we passed rows of skirts, cute tank tops, dresses, and -- to my embarrassment -- panties, bras, and every other form of negligee. There was even a smaller section in the corner devoted to makeup.
This place was incredible.
"I know the asshole didn't let you wear what you wanted back home, but that won't fly at our house. You can wear anything you want, so we need to start building your wardrobe."
It was a lot to take in. First, she was defending me against Dad. I'd never dared to stand up to him, but here she was condemning him and supporting me. It was incredible. Second, she called her house 'our' house. I'd never been accepted like this as a girl, or even as a person. Constantly being told that I didn't belong as a kid had felt horrible, but here was my sister telling me I had a place that I belonged. It was amazing, and I was so thankful. Lastly, her invitation to wear whatever I wanted hit me like a ton of bricks. It was so incredible, to have this golden opportunity to be who I was handed to me on a silver platter. There was only one problem.
"I, uh, I don't actually know anything about these kinds of clothes. I've only ever seen them from a distance, or on other people," I confessed, and I tried to pretend I didn't notice the look of pity on her face.
"Then I'll just have to help you," she said with a gentle smile and a nod. I just kept my head down and followed along.
Bella, seemingly unperturbed by my lack of enthusiasm, dragged me through a few aisles by the hand, piling clothes onto her arm as we went. This went on for a good twenty minutes before we finally stopped. In front of a changing room.
