XANDER
MICHIGAN | SERIES # 4
I grew up in the suburbs of metro-Detroit. To dispel any preconceived notions, metro-Detroit is not Detroit. Where I grew up was rather diverse, and I never really thought much of it until I was a young teenager. When I was thirteen, I realized that the four-hour drive to the rural northern town where my grandparents lived took us to a whole new world-- a world where everyone was white and heterosexual, where the majority of residents have a high-school diploma as their highest level of schooling. All of this was new to me. “Me” being a thirteen-year-old lesbian, with a biracial half-brother, who had already started looking at what extracurriculars are favored by universities.
I knew I had an aunt who was a lesbian, but we didn’t really talk about that. On my fourteenth birthday, I made the life-saving decision to come out as a transgender male. After a very emotional and life-saving coming out declaration to my mother, I hid out in my grandparent’s pantry-converted-to-a-temporary-guest-room for the rest of the weekend.
My fourteenth birthday happened to coincide with a rather big event. It was the first weekend my mom’s long-term-boyfriend, let’s call him J, was staying in Michigan with us. As my mom was trying to wrap her head around my coming out announcement, he was encouraging her to “Google it”. On that trek home, we stopped at a well-known chain restaurant to get dinner. Entering the restaurant, my headphones were attached to my ears and my eyes were attached to the ground. I wanted absolutely no interaction, to avoid any possibility of rejection. As we sat down, my mom motioned for me to take the headphones off. Hesitantly, I did what she asked. J looked at me and asked, “What would you like us to call you?”
In that moment I was weightless, floating. All the tension I had been carrying in my shoulders and on my mind went away. I started sobbing, but the happy kind. While my mom had no idea what being transgender was, she was willing to educate herself.
Over the course of a year, she became my fiercest advocate. At fourteen, I was going into my freshman year of high-school. This is where location plays a major role in my story. I was enrolled to go to the same school that I had attended since third grade, with all the people who may or may not have known I was trans. My mom decided to take me to different school districts to see which would be the most compatible and where I would feel the safest.
I ultimately decided to stay in the school district I had been attending. It was exhausting. Being the openly transgender kid in a school where most, if not all, of the students, staff, and parents didn’t kno what that meant is exhausting. I was answering questions about my life, my transition, my sexual orientation day after day after day. Many of the questions weren’t even appropriate. Many of them were invasive, many of the worst questions I’ve been asked came from teachers and friends’ parents.
Running on empty and wanting to exist without having to educate others about my existence made me an angry person. I was always mad at the world. I never felt that I would be safe, or comfortable. I always assumed I’d have to move out of state and into a Big Gay City to feel accepted, and like I was allowed to just be a human. Midway through my junior year, I had the option to move to a different school district. I took that opportunity.
At that point, I had been on Testosterone for 1.5 years, and I went “stealth”. This means that at the new school, I was just presenting as male and no one knew that I was transgender, unless I wanted them to. The only drawback is that the school was majority white. Coming from a more diverse area to the new school was a big culture shock to me. I was concerned.
When a community has racial diversity, it usually is more tolerant of ‘being different’, whatever that may look like. At the new school, I became a ‘GBF’ (or Gay Best Friend) really quickly. Honestly, I loved it. I wasn’t The Token Trans Kid. I was just a really effeminate male who liked shopping and boys.
I started to feel better, but also started to feel guilty. I was no longer fighting for the acceptance of trans youth- like myself. I was just living my life-- and that’s completely okay. Just existing as a queer youth is the biggest achievement I have done. I just knew that I needed to do more than exist, even if that’s all I really wanted for so long.
This was around that time that I started working on a Michigan Youth board for the Michigan Organization on Adolescent Sexual Health (MOASH). MOASH gave me a voice to help advocate for trans youth on my own terms. I didn’t have to live with invasive, inappropriately asked questions if I didn’t want to, and I also felt that I was directly creating a better experience for LGBTQ youth in Michigan.
I’m writing my story for Project Contrast as an openly gay, freshman, transman at Michigan State University. Growing up trans in Michigan wasn’t easy. I’ve had friends pass away because they weren’t supported, and never received the medical care they needed. I had friends live with me after being disowned. I didn’t expect to live beyond twelve, fourteen, sixteen. I was able to grow up, not only because I had support, but because of my drive. What drove me to make it to eighteen was anger. I made it this far, and I found happiness, because I was angry enough to expect better from the world. I wanted it to change, I needed it to change. And change it did.
