- Today, I want to talk about who I am — or perhaps more accurately, how I came to understand myself.
- I’m a trans person, but not in the way many people assume. Some think I was born male and later transitioned into a woman. That’s not my story.
- Before I was born, my mother struggled with severe night terrors. Her doctor prescribed her a medication — one she has never named — but she later learned it could affect the development of an unborn child. That was the only detail she ever shared.
- When I was born, everyone believed I was a boy. Over time, it became clear that things weren’t quite that simple. I was born with an intersex condition, though it has never been formally diagnosed. I had a penis and testes, but around the age of 13 — before male puberty — my body began developing small mammary glands.
- This wasn’t gynecomastia, which is usually just excess fatty tissue. This was actual breast tissue, and my nipples began to take on a more typically feminine shape.
- I discovered this in the most uncomfortable way. One warm Saturday evening, I was watching a film with my family, shirtless as boys often are. Suddenly, my older brother announced that I had breasts. My dad added that my nipples looked like my mother’s. Their disgust was obvious, and I was told to put my top back on. A year later, a friend at school made a similar comment. After that, I learned to cover my chest — the same way girls do — because it felt safer.
- But to understand how this shaped me, you have to go back further.
- Even though I was assumed to be a boy, from my earliest memories people called me a girl. My older brothers even used a female name for me as a form of bullying. At school, children — and sometimes teachers — joined in, calling me feminine or using “gay” as an insult. This followed me throughout my childhood, long before my body began to change.
- Whenever I mention that my breasts started developing at 13, people often ask what age I began hormone treatment. The answer is 29. My early breast development wasn’t caused by treatment — it was simply part of the intersex traits I was born with.
- To give you a sense of how others saw me, here’s a memory many people can relate to. At the end of the school day, the teacher would say, “Everyone, stand behind your chairs and put them on your desks.” Once the chairs were up, they’d call out, “Girls dismissed!” The girls would leave first, and the boys would wait. But almost every time, someone would turn to me and say, “R, the girls have been dismissed.” I must have heard that line a thousand times.
- For years, I didn’t understand why. Eventually someone explained it: I had softer features, a gentler nature, and people saw me as too feminine for a boy. Mocking me made them feel more secure in themselves.
- Why do I describe myself as intersex? I’ve already mentioned my early breast development, but that wasn’t the only sign. I’ve always had far less body hair than most women I know, and I’ve never needed facial hair removal — I simply never developed a beard or moustache. My body has always sat somewhere outside the typical expectations for “male.”
- There’s also a broader scientific context that helped me make sense of myself. Starting in the mid‑1990s, researchers began studying the brains of trans women. Across multiple studies over many years, they found that a certain brain structure in trans women more closely resembled patterns usually seen in women rather than in men. Importantly, these differences appear before individuals formed any conscious understanding of being transgender — in people as young as four and as old as seventy.
- For me, learning about this research didn’t define who I am, but it did help me understand that my experience wasn’t random or imagined. My body and my identity have always followed their own path, and “intersex” is the word that best captures that reality.
- On top of everything else, my mother once told me — when I was about twenty‑five — that she had taken a medication during pregnancy that was later found to affect the development of the unborn child. It was something she admitted only once. But years later, when I made the decision to transition, she grew regretful and didn’t want to talk about it anymore.