The most insidious thing, I think, about being transsexual is that it isolates us from ourselves and teaches us from the time we are kids that we are alone, that we don't fit in and we believe, as kids, that we never will. We fashion that into a kind of armor made of pain and fury. We learn to separate the real core of us, the "me", from the outside world.
We become child soldiers, training daily. Watching the world like an enemy, we learn its behavior, its differences. We learn how to fit in, camoflauged, as invisible as possible. We punish ourselves for showing our difference, for any time we don't fit in, anything that might give us away. Doing this, we strengthen and maintain our armor until we can bear to function in the outside world. We act "normal". We fit in. We pass. Soon, this armor, this training is a part of us, so perfect that it becomes a part of ourselves. Our own parents don't have a clue that inside this laughing, happy, well-adjusted child is a hurting, wounded creature desperate for love and acceptance.
As we grow up and become "adults", but we tend to hold on to the idea, like it is some kind of universal law that we aren't worthy and we don't fit in and never will. The armor has become a part of us... it has done a good job, keeping us safe through childhood. We've done our part, too, training so perfectly that we have fooled everyone, including ourselves. But there is a cost. That armor that helped us make it through childhood is too small to fit the adult world. So it hurts us. A lot. And keeps us from being able to appreciate or even see the people who are there, ready to accept us. We often fail to notice this because we're accustomed to the pain. Even gentle hugs hurt when your armor is pinching raw nerves.
Some of us realize this, at last, and begin to cut away the armor. It is a dangerous process; we have grown up in it, relied on its strength. It has become a part of us. Lifting the pieces off of our raw, weak skin can sends waves of wicked pain sapping our very souls. Often we have waited until we have no choice, we must remove the armor or die. And, in many cases, it is literally too late, the wounds caused in attempting to remove the armor are mortal. Those of us who remain are often deeply wounded by the process and may take years to recover. Some exchange their armor, piecemeal, for a larger size, because that is all they have known, presenting something closer to their true selves to the world, but remaining isolated, learning to "pass" all over again as something closer to their true selves. Others work hard to remove that armor completely, slowly becoming accustomed to the incredible sensation of a passing gust of kindness or acceptance, and learning how to deal with the pain of rejection or hostility. What emerges then is something beautiful to behold, that rarest of things, a human being true to themselves; open, honest, and prepared to show themselves, weaknesses and all, to the world.
As a final note, while transexual people are perhaps the most obvious example of people transitioning in life, there are others, too, who have to learn how to remove their armor, or, better yet, encouraged so they don't even have to put it on in their childhood. There are so many things that parents try to discourage in their kids, and kids listen all too well. Celebrate their differences and help make the world more welcoming instead of working to make them conform. Armor is a lovely thing for battle, but then children shouldn't have to fight battles, should they?
