My whole journey with gender started when I was a teenager. I was deeply uncomfortable with my body when I hit puberty; I hated the changes and I especially hated developing breasts. I felt like my body was betraying me. At the same time, I was struggling with depression and really low self-esteem. I spent a huge amount of time online, and that’s where I first learned about being transgender and non-binary. It felt like an answer. I thought, maybe I’m not a girl. Maybe that’s why I feel so awful.

I started identifying as non-binary. It felt like a way to escape the pressure of being a woman. I felt like society had all these rules for how I should act and look, and saying I wasn't a girl felt like a way to break free from that. Looking back, I think a lot of it was internalized misogyny. I saw the stereotypes about women being weak or less than, and I wanted no part of it. I thought that to be strong and respected, I couldn't be a woman. I was influenced a lot by what I saw online and by friends in similar communities. We all kind of reinforced each other's feelings.

I eventually moved from identifying as non-binary to wanting to fully transition to male. I started testosterone. I was told it would solve my problems and make me feel at home in my body. But messing with my hormones was not a joke. I had a terrible experience with birth control in the past—it made me gain weight, killed my libido, and made me severely depressed—so I should have been more cautious. On testosterone, some of those feelings came back. My mental health didn't magically get better. I also started to see the changes, like a lower voice and facial hair, as permanent and serious, not the simple solution I had imagined.

I got top surgery. I thought it would finally fix the discomfort I had with my breasts. And for a while, it did feel like a relief. But it was a major surgery, and it left me with scars, both physical and emotional. I am now infertile, which is something I didn't fully process the weight of at the time.

My turning point came when I finally stepped back from the online world. I unplugged and just tried to live. I listened to music I liked, wore clothes I found comfortable, and got into hobbies like painting and DIY projects. I stopped trying to label everything I did. I realized that my problem wasn't with being a woman; it was with the box society tries to put women in. I started to see amazing women everywhere—leaders, inventors, friends—who were breaking stereotypes just by being themselves.

I came to understand that being a woman isn't a prison sentence. I don’t regret my journey because it led me to this understanding, but I do have profound regrets about the permanent changes I made to my body. I regret that I wasn't encouraged to explore my discomfort with puberty and society's expectations in a different way. I wish someone had been real with me about the seriousness of hormones and surgery instead of just affirming me. I benefited from therapy that wasn't just about affirming a transgender identity, but about digging into my depression, low self-esteem, and the reasons I wanted to escape my body in the first place.

Now, I see gender as a social construct with too many rigid rules. Why can't people just be people? I believe my discomfort was a mix of normal puberty awkwardness, body dysmorphia, and societal pressure. I'm learning to accept my body as it is now, with its scars and its history.