A Transformative Valentine's Day
I'll never forget the first time I saw her reflected in the mirror.
It was Valentine's Day, 2002. I decided to go to the mall after school because I had no Valentine to celebrate the day with. It had been over a year since I had stealthily packed clothes in my bookbag, changed before going to home class, and changed out before getting on the bus. I switched schools as a freshman and was beyond relieved: this high school felt more like a college, where we picked our courses, left campus for lunch, and had Thursday mornings off to go volunteer––though, somehow, I was able to pull it off and spend time with my girlfriends at the mall. (There was an amusing time we pulled off getting into an all-boys school for "research." A tale for another time!)
I continued my social transitioning, albeit discreetly, as a sophomore in high school. I would wear headwraps instead of wigs and never dared to wear makeup, due more to my lack of makeup skills than getting caught. Sadly, my mother refused to understand; she felt my life would go on the same trajectory as my trans aunt, Kiki. The obstacles many Black trans women faced then are no different from now: lack of accessibility to equitable housing, employment, medicine, and more. Though we argued at one point during my first year in high school, part of the impetus that drove me to a different school, there was fortitude in me that never wavered.
After a bit of retail therapy, I stopped by a small salon. I don't remember what led me to go in, but I remember the stylist. She was a bit older (maybe early 20s?) and resembled Gwen Stefani à la "Let Me Blow Ya Mind" era. I asked her if she could wax my brows. At the time, I had those bushy, Princess Amelia-like pre-transformation brows, and the stylist knew how to trim and shape my brows perfectly. (She may have laid the foundation for their shape today!) Then we talked about makeup. I admitted to her I never wore makeup. She doted on me like a big sister and made recommendations from MAC. I eagerly bustled to the nearby MAC counter at Macy's with her notes and, fifteen minutes later, was back in the salon seat as she painted my face.
I sometimes wonder what enthused her about doing my makeup. Perhaps it was because she had nothing else to do, as the mall was relatively empty that evening. Maybe she was honing her skills as an aspiring makeup artist. I like to believe she had friends like me, who also discovered their true selves, with a fabulous cis-ally walking alongside us in our journeys. When she was done, she turned me around in the salon chair to see the results.
For the first time, I saw my true self in the mirror and felt visible.
The Shadow of Fear and Trauma
I want to say the rest of the night felt as glamorous as I was after the stylist did my makeup. Sadly, it was not. The night ended with yelling, screaming, shattered glass from a broken mirror, cuts on my hands and arms, and running next door barefoot to call the police. It was a traumatic experience that left physical scars for a few weeks and emotional wounds that lasted for years.
I honestly don't know how I was able to cope with pushing my trans self back into the proverbial closet. Meditation? Prayer? McDonald's? I was one of those D.A.R.E. kids who took it seriously, so I didn't start drinking until the ripe age of 21. But I learned to adapt in some ways, though the true me yearned to breathe free.
Fifteen years later, I would see her in the mirror again.
A Journey to Authenticity
I had a public "coming out" party in early June 2017. My close family and friends knew that I was transitioning over a year prior, not long before I began my medical transition in early 2016. The greatest euphoria wasn't just feeling the physical changes in me over the coming years–that "tingly" sensation in the breasts, or the way my body hair thinned out (if only it did it for my waist!)–but the joy in seeing the greatest adversaries in the earlier part of my trans teen's journey now become my greatest allies.
There have been times I've cried tears of joy in seeing these changes, not just the familial and physical but also the growing acceptance in the greater community. But I have also shed tears of sorrow. Tears for my younger self, who cried themself to sleep after a harrowing night on Valentine's Day many years earlier, forced to wipe away their identity like day-old makeup and throw away their clothes. Who was forced to acknowledge their truth as a "phase." Who once thought of giving up on life but found an inner light to lead them through the dark underpass.
Looking in the mirror, I don't see a timid reflection forced to hide because of fear. I now see the embodied testament of my resilience. When I see the adult trans woman in the mirror, it reflects and honors the younger me who once doubted her right to exist freely.
The Significance of Trans Day of Visibility
On Trans Day of Visibility, we uplift trans voices that are increasingly met with shouts of hate, fear, and violence. For me, Trans Day of Visibility is more than just a date on the calendar. It is a solemn promise to live boldly in my truth and help others do the same. Each time I speak my truth, I pay tribute to those who fight so we can stand taller and prouder of our identities. Each time I offer a hand or words of encouragement to another trans soul, I spark a light that casts away the shadows of despair.
I choose to be seen, whole, and unafraid, writing new chapters in my story that speak of unknown possibilities. Now more than ever, I choose never to let fear limit my potential, never to let fear take the helm of my life, and never to let the fear of living in my truth hold me from destiny.
Trans Day of Visibility reminds us that although the journey is long and, at times, challenging, it is also filled with love, hope, and hard-won joy.
Whether you're looking at your true self in the mirror for the first time or many, I hope the person looking back at you reflects a journey worth taking.
Keep shining,
Your Lovable Trans Auntie
Your Lovable Trans Auntie is our go-to advice column for life’s biggest (and messiest) questions—love, work, identity, and everything in between. With a signature blend of warmth, wit, and just the right amount of sass, Auntie offers readers a uniquely trans perspective that’s as affirming as it is entertaining. Whether dishing out heartfelt wisdom, practical advice, or a little tough love, Auntie is here to remind everyone that they’re never alone on this journey.
Got a crush but don’t know how to tell them you’re trans? Wondering how to deal with that coworker who still “forgets” your pronouns? Trying to navigate family drama, dating dilemmas, or just figuring out who you are? Auntie’s got you. Submit your questions to voices@equalpride.com.
