Q:

I’m a mid-30s AFAB person. I spent over a decade in a relationship with a trans person (agender) who was fairly controlling and, having some distance from that relationship, I’m realizing may have been emotionally abusive. Right around when we’d started dating in our late teens I had begun exploring a nonbinary identity and using gender neutral pronouns; I’ve continued to identify as such ever since. For much of my 20s, I was relatively butch and firmly identified as trans masc. I went as far as to seek out a double mastectomy, which was only halted when the world shut down for COVID-19.

However, since that relationship ended about 2 years ago I have been coming to understand myself as relatively femme, and, probably, a lesbian cis woman. My ex had been clear with me that they only wished to associate with trans people and by the time we split had excised nearly all cis people from their life with the exception of coworkers and some family. My ex had derided my career, my friends, my hobbies, and a variety of other facets of my life, and I think the reason I didn’t understand my identity sooner (perhaps 10 or more years ago) was that this was one of the only things holding the relationship together. I felt sufficiently suffocated from understanding any other possibly contentious facets of my identity that it never crossed my mind that I might have been cis all along.

My life has improved immeasurably since the breakup. I have new, healing friendships, confidence to excel in my career, a fulfilling romantic relationship, and a level of mental independence I never thought possible. In theory, I’m ready to begin talking this through with those who actually care about me. The problem is, I can’t shake the feeling that, much like my ex who absolutely would have, those I love will desert me when I share this with them. I can understand how those who have accepted me into trans spaces would be, if nothing else, unsettled to know there’s been a cis person in their midst. It’s not lost on me that this exact type of story is catnip to those who would seek to tear down the rights of trans people – a woman who almost amputated her breasts! A woman who was in an abusive relationship and was pressured into maintaining a trans identity! – and I feel like I’m going to need to defend myself, whether or not that’s rational. The truth is, part of why I understand myself so well, is that my current friends who are trans are so joyful in their own understanding of self that I began to understand the ways in which I’d been hiding and obscuring my identity from myself after years of a broken relationship.

I have no idea what to do next. Help?

A:

Well, hot damn. It sounds like you’re going through an explosion of personal growth and introspection. My congratulations to you for extricating yourself out of a damaging relationship, especially after so long. The fact that your life has improved by leaps since breaking up with your ex says a lot about that relationship — some people in our lives have more in common with anchors than lifebuoys. It sounds like you’ve shed someone on the wrong end of that sinking ship metaphor.

So. Trans-or-not. I’m mostly going to write to you as I would to a cis person asking the inverse question because I think the fundamentals are similar. We just don’t hear enough about the narrative of trans-to-cis gender exploration. To that, the most important thing I’d say is: gender exploration is for everyone, regardless of starting point or expectations.

If we’re to build a freer society that respects people’s interests in being who they want to be, our principles have to be applied equally. Yes, the common narrative is one of cisgender to other genders moving away from established norms. But when (or if) a person reaches a destination identity cluster, the right to explore and question isn’t closed off. Nobody is assigned a one-time pass to explore gender and pick something new. Nobody’s assigned passes of any kind — it’s a vibes-based endeavor.

That right to explore gender applies to you, too. Especially when you’ve uncovered evidence of traumatic pressure to be more like a certain gender. Especially when you’re going through an extended period of self-discovery via your newfound freedom. Especially when you have pressing questions about your place in your social circles and society.

In fact, your situation sounds a lot like the events that prompt gender exploration. Look at those especiallies I listed. People who found their gendered socialization traumatic, went through periods of discovery, and had to ask pressing questions about their place in society… that sounds like the majority of gender exploration narratives I’ve read. Sure, most of them end up trans or elsewhere on the queer alignment, but it doesn’t invalidate your experience if your needle falls closer to the cisgender alignment.

And I’ll tell you the same thing I’d tell someone who thinks they’re trans: If you feel an inexorable pull toward a gendered way of being, the seed is already planted. Denying or strangling it will probably destroy you before it destroys that feeling.

At the heart of every story about transition or gender exploration is an aesop about agency. Incidentally, this is also the heart of every abusive relationship (whether escaped or not). I feel the need to discuss agency because there’s a connection between your gendered sense of self and your previous relationship. Your breakup and subsequent life recovery reads to me like a journey of recovering agency and reestablishing yourself after a long time without good options to live the way you need to. That deserves credit for the work you’ve done, but it’s also fair to encounter points of friction. Like… wondering about the interactions between your gender identity and the pressures of your previous relationship.

Abuse (in any form) has a long tail. It has an incredible power to stick in our minds so that we propagate the abuse we endured even if the original source is long-gone. The violence that was inflicted on me in my formative years ended a decade ago, but every week, I see inklings of it in my internal dialogue. When we’ve existed with a person for so long, their words and habits become ours, for good or ill.

Extracting ourselves from abuse or toxicity also involves rehoming our minds into a safer place. You described an environment that excised people of the ‘wrong’ genders and coerced you into being a certain way. That sort of hostility to personal exploration and growth is unsafe by nature. If it helps you move your interest in personal liberation forward, I’ll tell you this:

Stifling ourselves after abusive or toxic people are gone because that’s how things were isn’t helpful. It’s very much letting the remnants of that person continue to exercise control over us. 

I’ve not addressed how the hypothetical of a horrible trans abuser being cruel to a perfect cis babygirl almost causing them to SELF MUTILATE factors into this. That was intentional. Because as trans people who’ve had a profound oh shit moment know: Once the cat’s out of the bag, you can’t stuff it back in. If a person is committed to a path of personal reflection and growth, they’ll tend to do it despite resistance. Some of us are even spitefully fuelled by resistance. I for one am much more obnoxious about being trans because I know it makes some people mad.

If you find out that a cisgender identification is for you and you progress, resistance to your story won’t stop you from accessing your sense of truth. Even if you stayed as you are, the people who would jump on a story about a saved-by-the-bell detransition wouldn’t care. They’d find someone else to go after. They’d concoct another strawman, tangle up another four narrative threads, and reach another spurious conclusion. No amount of explaining that your decision is rooted in personal agency would get through to them. No amount of discussion about the complexities of informed consent would assuage them. It wouldn’t matter to them, and you still have a life to live.

It charms me utterly to hear that you have this knowledge and reflection partly because of the trans friends you’ve made along the way. Gender euphoria and that feeling of rightness cuts both ways. Anyone can experience gender dysphoria. Ask a cis woman who resents the masculinizing effects of PCOS how she feels about the hormonal equivalent of aggravated assault on her body. Same for cis men who have felt trapped and incomplete due to gynecomastia their whole lives. Just as gender dysphoria can happen to anyone, so too does gender euphoria.

And what kind of people would we be if we pursued gender euphoria and ‘our’ rightful sense of self, but denied it to others?

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