TRANS VOICES: Carter
This post is a part of our series promoting our Trans Voices: A Storytelling Event for Trans and Nonbinary Young Adults Event.
Dinosaur shorts. That’s the last gift my grandma gave me on my eighth birthday. They were size 8 boy’s shorts with dinosaurs playing basketball complete with a matching tank top. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this seemingly small gift would become one of the most notable euphoric moments of my life.
Growing up in the rural Midwest, I didn’t know what transgender meant or have the language to convey what I had always known. At 8 years old, I didn’t quite grasp the reality that not everyone saw me the way I saw myself. I don’t recall ever having a conversation with my grandma about wanting those shorts or any boy’s clothing. Yet somehow, she saw who I really was and made it a point to make me feel seen and valid.
I wore those dinosaur shorts every day my mom would let me get away with it. Laundry day seemed to take forever as I waited for them to get out of the dryer. The freshly dried outfit was warm…comfortable…safe…it felt like home. I might not have had the language, but I felt a visceral connection to those shorts in a way I had never experienced happiness before…I was able to dress on the outside in the way I had always felt on the inside.
It would be another thirteen years before I finally found the words. I had my lightbulb moment in the middle of my graduate counseling program. This is when I learned what it meant to be transgender and to experience dysphoria…something I experienced daily but didn’t quite understand. Then I thought back to those dinosaur shorts and everything seemed to make sense. I was ready to live my truth and to step into my authentic self.
On days when dysphoria takes over, I wish I could still fit into those shorts and feel that same level of comfort. The dinosaur shorts became extinct decades ago but that core memory will live with me forever. I feel validated knowing my grandma celebrated my authentic self without the two of us ever having that conversation. Even when the world tries to invalidate my identity, I can look back and know this is who I have always been, this is who I am, and who I will always be.