The very earliest memories I have are of running around with my brother in the backyard, both in our shorts, playing in the dirt as little brothers do.
Those are such happy memories. But it didn’t take long before the grown-ups around me started demanding I put on a shirt, wear a dress, don’t sit like that, no you can’t cut your hair, you need to be pretty, a pretty little girl… I couldn’t understand why they were saying this. I explained ‘there are boys who are boys and girls who are girls, and girls who are boys and boys who are girls – I’m just a girl that’s a boy!’ astounded they didn’t know when it was such an obvious and self-evident thing. Aren’t grown-ups supposed to know everything? But they insisted. I was forced to wear someone else’s clothes and answer to someone else’s name, live someone else’s life… I didn’t know how to make them understand.
I was forced to wear someone else’s clothes and answer to someone else’s name, live someone else’s life… I didn’t know how to make them understand.
When I was in preschool the teacher took the class for a bathroom break, asking ‘are you going to wee standing up or sitting down?’ … We could pee standing up?? My little mind was blown. Her attempt at reinforcing gender norms through potty training backfired, because since that day I was obsessed with being able to stand to pee. I tried a thousand different methods, often making a huge mess, much to the exasperation of my mother, who told me ‘you can’t do that, only boys can do that’. Only boys? But I’M a boy! Why can’t I do what all the other boys can? It just strengthened my resolve. When I came out as trans, my biggest point of dysphoria was around being able to stand to pee. I had mastered the medicine spoon and the GoGirl and the eye dropper and aaaaalllll of those things, but nothing truly took the feeling away. I was still that little boy wondering why I couldn’t just be like the other boys.
The EZP makes me feel amazing, I have next to zero dysphoria about peeing now, it’s truly a blessing. I can’t wait for the Bionic. The Bionic Project is the most exciting thing I’ve heard of for a long time, and I eagerly await being able to buy one. My very own penis! That little boy crying in the girl’s bathroom over another unsuccessful attempt to pee how he wanted would be so amazed to see me now, blown away by the idea of having his own bionic penis. I wish I could tell him he’ll be a man someday. Fast forward a couple of decades to now – My mum calls me her son, I walk into urinals confidently, I move through the world being seen for who I am. I wear my own clothes, I answer to my own name, and I’m so proud of who I am.
This is me, all grown up.
– Bryn
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