I am an 18-year-old transgender lesbian currently living in China.
My memories are so alien to me. I managed to forget about most of my past, because it causes me so much pain whenever I am reminded of it. What I do remember, however, are foggy forms and blurred shapes. It was as if I did not really live through those things. It was the boy whose face, body and mind took over mine, and whose masquerade shielded me from not only harm, but also love and human emotions.
Maybe it was not such a good idea to dwell on my misery, I think. I've tried countless times to think of a happy memory, but I never could. Even when I was ecstatic, the inexplicable sadness accompanied me like an obdurate apparition, determined to sap the very last shred of happiness from the person it haunts.
My extreme form of nonchalance and imperviousness to human emotions often scared myself. I knew my parents loved me, but I was sure I could never love them back. I don't know why, but I just knew. Having lived most of my life in China, a country which holds filial piety as one of its core cultural values, I only felt more guilty and irredeemable. I silently condemned myself for my cold-heartedness, knowing deep down that I was never going to change.
It was before I determined myself to be transgender. I didn't even know it was a possibility. Thinking about myself being a girl just made me feel like a disgusting pervert. I was 15, and I remember thinking to myself that I was never going to survive in China. I remember thinking that I had to leave, for somewhere tolerant and free. So I decided to go to college in the US, where gay people can live without fear. I didn't quite understand it myself why I thought I was gay. I wasn't really attracted to boys, but I thought I was gay. Maybe kinda gay, maybe a different kind of gay.
Last October, I went to Hong Kong for the SAT test(there's no testing center in mainland China). On the plane, I talked to the girl sitting next to me who was also going to Hong Kong for the SAT. We talked about the Games of Thrones, and the SAT test. Her favorite character in the GoT was Danaerys Targeryan, and mine was Tyrion Lannister. She was impressed by my full score in the reading section the last time I took the SAT. I really wanted to be her friend, but we soon ran out of interesting things to talk about. It became quite clear to me that she wasn't going to start talking about girls' stuff. I suddenly began to miss the girl sitting next to me in my 10th grade. She didn't have male friends because she didn't quite know how to talk to boys. We got along just fine, and she treated me like she treated other girls. I felt shunted, brutally excluded from an invisible sorority and a kind of sisterhood only true girls can expect to enter. I wanted to sit next to the window so I could look out and see the clouds, but for some reason I never sat next to the window on an airplane.
I heard about a guy(a fellow mainland Chinese test taker) who spent more than 10,000 CNY (about 1,575 dollars) on cosmetic products the last time he was in Hong Kong. I wasn't about to spend that much money, but surely mom wouldn't mind if I spend a few hundred bucks on makeup with her credit card? I'll just have to tell mom something else, and she wouldn't even suspect. No one would ever find out if I hid the makeup well, surely. However, I couldn't bring myself to do it. So the afternoon after the test, I decided to stay in my hotel room. I watched Discovery Channel while laying in bed. I still remember the shows that afternoon. First up, rednecks with guns. Then there was something about primate psychology and misdirection, visual or otherwise. I bought a South China Morning Post and went to the fashion section after my friends left. I just stared at the beautiful women and their clothes, decidedly feminine and elegant. I knew I could never muster up the courage to cross-dress, even if no one would ever find out.
I've been depressed ever since I got back from Hong Kong. In December, however, I accidentally stumbled upon materials about transsexualism online. I came out to my parents in January, and it went much better than I expected. I want to write more but I feel drained from writing about pains that are still fresh and wounds that have not yet healed. I'll write more about my personal experience later.
