<p>Well, okay, in a very specific way. I started hating the anger. I started hating the expectations. I starting hating the toxicity.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>You started hating a lot more than that.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I started hating my brain and my body. I started hating the coarseness of me. I started hating all my angles. I started hating my hair and my face and my genitals and my lies.</p>
<p>I was lying to JD. I was lying to work. I was lying to Tyson. I was lying to everyone who saw me online as a girl, and I was lying to everyone who saw me online as a boy. I was in a liminal place where I could tell no one the truth.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Not even yourself.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Not yet, at least.</p>
<p>There were a few easy steps to take, of course. I saw a doctor who got me on meds.</p>
<p>I started taking my own meds alongside those the doctor gave me. I started the slow process of ridding myself of testosterone. I hated my body so much, I did my best to camp out up in my head, to remove at least one means of having to interact with it: sex.</p>
<p>Well, yes, but he wasn’t simply male in all his interactions. He was effeminate, without being flamey. He could be both more and less than a guy.</p>