I’d like to say right now that I’ve passed a milestone. Just a few minutes ago, I had the first female in my life ever to tell me to put the toilet seat down. Aside from the slight embarrassment (and huge flush of relief that came to realize that she saw it up before her mom did), I felt a sense of… becoming– not quite pride, but accomplishment; the feeling of passing on into being not just a boy, but maybe even a man.
My 21st birthday is in 3 days.
I’ve been thinking about it for about 5 months now, and I’ve finally decided that I am, in contradiction of everything I’ve said before, going to cut my hair. Yes, I’ve said before that I don’t:
1) go around wearing what I wear or looking what I look like just to make things easier for everyone else. I do this for ME.
2) follow gender stereotypes, because if I think that’s what makes me a man, then I might as well just pack up and go home.
3) want to go through transition for the sake of being a man, I do it for the sake of being MYSELF.
I still hold to those standards, but the funny thing is, I feel like a completely different person today than I did five months ago. I feel that short hair would suit me better as I am, that I’m really not trying to live up to that scruffy biker/metalhead image anymore, that I want a softer, shaggy, more boyish cute faggy look as I settle into my male self. (Plus Hilary Swank looked awfully cute in short hair in Boys Don’t Cry.) In fact, I could go on listing a thousand reasons I’ve changed my mind- it doesn’t matter. I will never abandon my resolution to be myself, and if I tried to hold to an image that I was before but not now, just to prove something to anyone else, then I’ve lost sight of that.
This cutting of my hair will also mark the passing of another landmark, no matter how I try to downplay it. I’ve had long hair for my entire life, as long as I can remember, and losing it will almost be a point of no return. I may grow my hair long again, in the future when my features have masculinized again, but for now, this is my aggressive visual act of manhood to those around me. It says, “this isn’t just something I’m saying, or a phase. I’m serious about this.” If nothing else, I hope that it will be a constant reminder of what pronoun to use.
So, I’ve decided that, the night before I get it done, I’m going to make almost a ceremonial gesture, an act of severance to the female life behind me. My friends and I are going to go out for a night on the town, and I’m going in full drag as a female. There will be nothing questionable about it- I’ll be gussied up in every way possible, from corset to makeup and hairdo, head to toe. It will be very symbolic as the last time I ever don the female garb, and at the end of the night I’ll remove every piece and say goodbye to the life behind me.
I’m calling it my Severance Ball: my rite of passage from a female body into a male one, and I feel that at the end of that night, I will have no regrets and will never look back.