Proud & Queer: Parker

I started taking testosterone in February of 2024, a decision made after years of teetering back and forth between comfort and safety. I wanted to be seen as myself. I wanted to look in the mirror and recognize the person who was looking back at me. But I also didn’t want the inherent danger that came with being trans in public—not the flaunting of my identity, but just the mere fact of my existence in the eyes of others. I didn’t decide it lightly.

I started testosterone and it was like the world suddenly had color. If I could change one thing about my journey, it would be that I started it sooner. The weight it lifted off of me was beyond anything I could have imagined.

But just because my medical transition began a little over a year ago, doesn’t mean that my transition only started then. I have known who I was since I was fifteen. A whole decade has passed since I first told my parents, my friends at school, and a few high school teachers that seemed safe, that I wanted to go by a different name and different pronouns. I have been living my life as a trans person since then, making a full social transition in college, getting my name legally changed in 2022, and starting to work with a trans-friendly doctor in 2023. I have never questioned who I was since I was 15, but I often feared what society would make of me once I finally began my medical transition.

Parker in Pride lighting

The Evergreen Echo

It is, I think, impossible to describe gender dysphoria or euphoria to someone who is not trans—but if I had to do it, I would say that gender dysphoria is like catching a glimpse in a mirror and the person looking back at you is not you, a ghostly version of yourself that is not the right shape. My dysphoria—thought I can’t speak for others—was like a constant battle between the image I had of myself in my head and the one who I saw. Seeing my face or body in a mirror or while I showered was disconcerting; it was not my body, it was not my face, it was some wrong version of me.

Testosterone worked quickly and slowly at once. Some things happened so fast; my voice dropped, my hunger was never-ending, and I bulked up within a matter of weeks. Other things are taking their time, like facial hair and weight distribution, while my testosterone levels are still reaching equilibrium. I have never been happier. I have never felt more like myself.

Then the 2025 election happened, and at first, it was like the world tipped just a little bit sideways. I wasn’t sure exactly where we were going to land. In his inauguration address, Donald Trump stated, “As of today, it will henceforth be the official policy of the United States government that there are only two genders: male and female.” I knew what that meant—what it continues to mean: that my community, like so many others, is on the chopping block.

After the election, I panicked. I tried to send in my documents to update my passport and it ended up stuck in the processing center for two months before finally being returned to me with my gender assigned at birth printed on it. I made a small hoard of testosterone. I sat up with my parents, friends, and partner trying to figure out what the next move was. Overall, there was this constant ringing in the back of my head: More than half of the country you live in wants you gone. I wasn’t sure how to live with that. I am still not sure.

My method of fighting back is simple, and you may have heard it before.

Stay alive.

Trans existence is resistance. They do not want us to thrive. They do not want us to be loud. They want us gone.

But we are here. And being here is a brave way to stand up for what is right. Do not let them force you out, do not let them scare you, do not let them dull your glow. I have always believed that trans people are some of the bravest I have ever met, and in the wake of a governmental body trying to restrict who we are, I have seen so many of my trans siblings stand together.

I will not go into hiding and I will not give up my happiness. Trans joy is powerful and beautiful. Trans joy can’t be stomped out or regulated. Trans joy is resistance.

Parker’s trans joy at Disney World

with permission from Parker