What would you do if your pre-transition self walked into the room?
Tags: Identity, Transgender, Nonbinary, LGBTQ, Self

What would you do if your pre-transition self walked into the room?

Photo by Jayson Hinrichsen on Unsplash

Oakley was enjoying a pleasant autumn afternoon in the Bistro. They were quietly sipping a London Fog on the couch, peacefully reading their book on essentialism, trying to tune out the Beyoncé that was playing a bit too loudly in the campus coffee shop and, for the most part, succeeding.

A familiar laugh shakes them out of their book.

Glancing up at the Bistro’s entrance, Oakley sees a girl with short, tight, frosted curls. She is dressed in an A-line brown skirt and a white blouse. She is carried away in the moment, giggling at a joke her friend made. She is glowing — in the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed way most college first-years do.

Oakley stares in muffled awe. They watch as their younger self shyly places an order for a London Fog latte; she is clearly unaccustomed to the menu and trusting her friend’s better judgement.

The pair collect their drinks. Jaelin waves goodbye to her friend who has a class to catch.

Oakley decides to get her attention, “Hey, Jae! Over here.”

Jaelin finds the owner of the voice and nearly drops her drink, “Uh…okay.”

Oakley rises to meet Jaelin’s height. They look each other up and down in a non-threatening way. Oakley is wearing a green pullover sweater and a pair of slacks, business casual at its finest. Their dark-brown afro and rounded glasses give them a soft and nerdy look.

Jaelin smiles cautiously, unsure of what she is supposed to do in this situation — and not entirely sure what “this situation” is. Oakley offers her a seat on the couch, and she sits.

Oakley doesn’t immediately clarify how they know Jaelin, “How is your first semester at Willamette going?”

“It’s…great! I’ve made lots of friends, my classes aren’t half bad, and I got a job working…in student activities!” Oakley grins, knowing that she’s lying. Jaelin works as the university mascot, but she isn’t supposed to tell anybody that. She is, unfortunately and lovably, a terrible liar.

Jaelin continues after sipping her latte, “I don’t miss home too much, and I’m really happy here! Do I know you? You look awfully familiar.”

Oakley takes a moment to decide how they want to play this, “Actually, yes. I know you fairly well. You…don’t know me yet…okay, let’s backtrack for a second. That sounded a lot creepier than I’d pictured it in my head,” Jaelin nods in awkward agreement.

“I’m…from the future…or you’re…from the past. I’m not entirely sure. I just know that I was in the Bistro, enjoying an afternoon of cancelled classes, and you walked in. You’re in what, your first month of college?”

Jaelin’s eyes widen, “I thought you looked too much like me! I know people think all lightskins ‘look the same,’ but I really could see what they meant when I first saw you! Wait! I’ve always wanted something like this to happen. When I was younger, I read a lot of those YA novels with teen protagonists doing cool stuff and having cool stuff happen to them!”

“I know. Funnily enough, one of your friends will joke about you being ‘protagonist material’ a little further down the line.”

Jaelin laughs, “Wait, do I know this friend? Are they already in my life?”

“Yes, you two should be in English together. She may seem intimidating now, but she’s incredibly kind and you’ll be lucky to get closer to her.”

“Sweet! Okay…anyways, uh you look different. You sound different too, but that may just be the exhaustion of college setting in. I’m guessing you’re a…junior? ”

Oakley chuckles, “Yup, but nope, testosterone and college exhaustion are different. I’m about a year on T at this point.”

“You’re trans? I’m trans? We’re trans? I didn’t see that coming.”

“Honestly, me neither. I didn’t have the experience of knowing I was trans from a young age. I knew that I didn’t like playing by the gender rules, but nothing felt off enough that I would’ve thought to look into it — not until I got to college and saw other genders for myself. You know how everyone introduces themselves with their pronouns here?”

Jaelin nods, “Yeah, it’s super cool. My dance captain uses she/they pronouns. She uses them interchangeably!”

“Do you think you would try something like that out?”

“I would consider it. It seems freeing...you know…to not be boxed into girlness,” Jaelin makes a flowery gesture to punctuate her point.

Oakley smiles, “Yeah, it does feel like a freedom you’re getting to take back for yourself. Do you want a few spoilers?”

“I mean, as long as you don’t think it’ll mess up the space-time continuum or whatever, go for it!”

Oakley takes a quick breath before launching into a long spiel, “Okay. You start using she/they, and then you realize that you want to use they/them and change your name. That overwhelms you because it’s a lot of change, and you end up backtracking for a few weeks. One of your friends — the really tall one — encourages you to pursue your gender truth, and you decide to make the social shift. Your final project for your American Ethnic Studies class is actually a zine…dedicated to me. You write me a letter promising to figure all of your gender mess out. A lot more happens, but I think that’s enough for now.” Oakley drinks some of their London Fog, trying to gauge Jaelin’s reaction.

Jaelin is a bit tricky to read, but she seems to be putting the pieces together, “So, I come out as a they? You’re a they? That makes so much more sense. This may come out wrong, but you…look like a man, and I never pictured myself coming out as a trans man.”

“That’s actually a really important clarifying point. You’re not a man. You’re transmasculine, meaning that you’re someone who was assigned female and is shifting away from that label. So, I have days where I look ‘masculine,’ and I like being able to look ‘like a man’ because it keeps me safer when I’m out in public. All of this will make a lot more sense as you start to go through it, but you seem to be following along pretty well so far.”

Jaelin nods, “And, at some point, I get my breasts removed? That green sweater is definitely sitting differently on you than it does on me.”

“Yes, you get top surgery, but that is a topic that won’t be on the table for another several months for you. Don’t even worry about that yet. I know you would’ve just had eye surgery in April, and you’re all surgery-ed out at the moment. Don’t trip, chocolate chip.”

“Hey! Mom says that!”

“I know,” Oakley winks.

“So…” Jaelin grabs her drink in her hands and pauses, trying to take it all in, “We…you…we end up okay, right? It all works out in the end, right? You seem stable, but I know that I don’t tend to show it when I’m struggling, and I’m sure my future self wouldn’t fall that far from my tree.”

“Yes, everything works out. You learn a lot and grow up quite a bit. You start reflecting more and get really into self-betterment,” Oakley holds up their book on essentialism as proof.

“Okay, I think I can handle that,” Jaelin checks her Fitbit, “Oh fork, I gotta get to class! English starts in five,” She adjusts her skirt as she stands up to leave.

Oakley checks their Fitbit and nods, “Tell Maia hi for me! Wait, actually, don’t do that. That would definitely weird her out. Just wave at her, and know that you’re doing it for me.”

Jaelin laughs and turns to go, “Got it! Bye Jael — wait, what do I end up changing my name to?”

“Oakley. Oak for short.”

Jaelin beams, “Bye, Oak! Enjoy your book.” With that, she rushes off to class.

Oakley smiles to themself, mildly shocked that no one else in the Bistro payed any attention to that interaction. They watch Jaelin hurry off for a few more moments before pulling their laptop out of their backpack. They click open the Medium icon and begin to write.