“Has your voice cracked yet?”

Yesterday, I got back from nearly two weeks in California where I finalized my move out to Colorado. 

It was an intense trip with several extremely emotional moments and it’s still hard for me, at such a short distance from all those events, to parse out the different interactions, emotions, thoughts, feelings. 

A great part of what made my stay and meetings in California so emotional and also difficult was the sense of going back to an old part of my life, almost an old part or version of me, that in my own head & heart I had already left behind or outgrown several months ago. 

I minimized my meetings and interactions in California to those that were either unavoidable or necessary, like the practical things that needed to be done for my move; or those that felt either light-hearted and joyful or healing to me, or of particular importance to get some ultimate closure. Among the latter, of the three difficult or awkward meetings I had foreseen happening, only one took place: for one of those meetings, the other person never got back to me, and I decided to respect her silence; for another, I realized I wasn’t in the right spirit to have that particular meeting. But one of those interactions did eventually happen: the other person involved did get back to me and we both made time to meet up despite our packed schedules. 

This was my very final meeting with the “boulderer”, to get my ultimate closure in person. 

I wanted him to see me as I am now, wholly, almost one year since we last saw each other, and over three years after we first met. I wanted him to know that I am non-binary — more than that, I wanted him to know I am trans-masculine, that there is and always has been a boy in me, and that I have started the medical processes to affirm my gender. 

At first, I was thinking of simply saying to him, “I am trans”. But that’s not how it came out… It took me some time to formulate my first sentence, as I struggled to find the words, and finally said, “I identify as non-binary but more towards the male side of the spectrum and have finally decided to do something about it”. After his initial, “Fine, that’s great”, the deeper meaning of my somewhat vague sentence finally hit him, and he asked, almost exclaimed, “You mean do something about it medically?!?”. “Yes”, I simply replied.

“So you’re starting T?!?” 

“Yes, I already started HRT a few weeks ago and hopefully will get top-surgery this winter”. 

It’s always interesting and particularly meaningful to me to see the reactions of cis-males, probably because I yearn for their affirmation or approval. This case was even more loaded since we had a long history of a complicated and confusing relationship involving many different layers, including a strong sexual attraction that was still present even last week. 

Part of his reaction — his initial “It’s no big deal” response — was disappointing, although I know it came partly from his general tendency of downplaying things — which he admitted, and which in this case he might need to protect his own self from the emotional consequences of realizing what it means for him that I am non-binary/trans-masculine… that he actually felt (and still feels) attracted to a boy… 

Later in our meeting, though, there was a conversation that was worth the whole effort and risk of sharing with him. 

As I explained that I’m basically going through male puberty and that my voice has already started changing, he suddenly asked, “Has your voice cracked yet?!?” The spontaneous, joyful, almost gleeful curiosity and camaraderie with which he asked this question was one of the best moments I have had in sharing my medical masculinization procedures with any cis-gender person. 

It literally was one boy asking another boy — “Has your voice cracked yet?” 

So I told him how I am recording my voice as it lowers, and he exclaimed, “You’re such a little boy! You’re totally a boy!”. 

He had seen me. Finally, he saw me. 

There was another moment when he saw me. As we were talking about climbing and I was sharing about some recent experience of mine, he (who has been climbing for much longer than I and initially also gave me a lot of advice) said, “You really are a fully-fledged climber now!?!”

“Yes, I am”, I replied with tranquil confidence. 

I know I still have TONS to learn and improve in rock-climbing. I know that both as a climber and as a boy I still have a long way to go, that I’m still in fieri, a work in progress. But I also know that both the boy and the climber in me are strong and important parts of my identity, and parts of my identity that I really wanted him to see because we share those aspects. 

What he will make of this “new” — actually clearer, more open, more confident, whole and authentic — “version of me” is unknown to me. And it’s really not my problem.

What matters to me is that I was able — i.e. I found the courage and had the opportunity — to show him all this, and that he saw it. 

What matters to me is that the last, final image he got of me is more aligned to who I really am.