TW/CW: Rape, Trauma, Sexuality
There have been a plethora of stories about various transgender persons. Every story paints a picture but it’s important to acknowledge that every story is different and there is not one singular path in being transgender.
Often in interviews I have been asked – “When did you know?” (…you were trans). I never related to my assigned gender at birth. But in the 1980s and even 1990s – the word transgender didn’t exist in my closeted and sheltered white privileged dimension of existence. I just thought I was more girly – my grandfather thought I was gay. I cried more easily. More sensitive. Didn’t like to play with boys, all my friends were girls – played with dolls, dressed up, played make-believe.
Then. I was raped by a pastor at age 7. The very next year my teacher forced me into a closet and chanted with the entire class for me to go away. Because of my sexual trauma, I decided nothing would come out of my body outside of urine. At age 11, not having grown or increased in weight, having yellow skin – and later being told by a gastroenterologist that I should be dead – (which was my hope at the time) – I would later experience insane weight gains creating even more bullying and hatred.
After being beaten down by life and having society push the word male on me I simply acquiesced. Dated. Did everything expected. Battled educational choices (I have three degrees), worked hard and eventually got married in Iowa (which is what brought me here from the Washington D.C. area) where I endured emotional and psychological abuse and became a parent.
At the end of that process, I was emotionally dead. I no longer wanted to relate to anyone sexually- that was a part of me that finally reached its expiration date.
The internet – search (wtf is wrong with me) – found it. Nothing wrong. Wrong body. Wrong pronouns. Wrong name. I’m female. Should’ve been always. Am forever. Battled anxiety and depression my whole life with no one having a clue.
Went on hormones – anxiety and depression – GONE. The unnatural urges and anxieties of excessive levels of testosterone began to dwindle and eventually disappear. I could breathe. I could function. Going out became a joy instead of a blend of bleak and numbness. My antisocial, reclusive tendencies dissipated.
But society does not understand us. Understand me. And society has demonstrated most often that that which they cannot control or hate must be destroyed.
I am reborn. I am female. A trans girl. Once filled with self-loathing now loving the feeling as my arms wrap myself up in a hug. I’ve lost 45 lbs. Not everyone takes 37 years to find out who they really are. Sometimes people take longer.
I am Ysandril Minerva Morrigan. I am a mother. I am a healer. I am a fighter. If you found out after a lifetime of sorrow that you had finally found your answer, would you not fiercely defend and protect it?
I am forever trans and forever joyous with my continued journey. If anyone has questions or wants to help in finding their strength – I am here for you.
We are all worthy of being valid and who we are meant to be. And iAmYsa~
May you find peace, love and light on your journey.