My journey with gender started when I was pretty young, around 11 or 12. I was uncomfortable with my body changing during puberty; I really hated the idea of my breasts growing in. I got a crew cut and dressed in a way that made people think I was a boy. For about a year, I lived socially as a boy and I loved it. My favorite thing was when guys would invite me to do something they considered manly, like play with Lego, and then I'd tell them I was actually a girl. Their surprised faces were hilarious to me.

That period was a big experiment for me. It made me realize that so much of what we call "femininity" isn't something I feel inside, but is more about how others, especially men, see and desire me. When men fawn over me or, on the flip side, treat me badly for rejecting them, that’s when I'm most aware of being seen as a woman. But when I'm just living my life—making music, crafting, cooking, or fixing things—I don't think about gender at all. I just feel like a neutral person.

I’ve always been bisexual, but I never felt the need to announce it to everyone. It's my own business. Looking back, I think a lot of my initial discomfort was less about gender and more about the pressures and sometimes the dangers of being a woman in the world. It's hard, that's true. But in my own circle of family and friends, being a woman feels cool and natural. It just is what it is.

I never medically transitioned. No hormones or surgeries. I'm incredibly grateful for that now. During a hospitalization for my mental health, I learned about Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) and made a connection between extreme body modification and self-harm. That was a huge moment for me. I started to see the whole ideology around transition, what some call "trans genderism," as incredibly destructive. It seems to shut down any questioning. I was shocked that even suggesting a link to self-harm got people silenced online. I thought if people knew this, the push for transition would slow down. I was very wrong.

I don't regret my social transition phase because it taught me so much about myself and the world. It was a necessary exploration. But I am so relieved I didn't make any permanent changes to my body. I benefited greatly from therapy that wasn't just about affirming a new gender identity, but about understanding my deeper issues, like anxiety and the discomfort I felt.

Now, I see gender as mostly a social performance, not some deep internal identity I need to medically alter to match. I'm just me, a person with a female body, who is happiest when I'm focused on my hobbies and my real life, not on labels.