"I hope you dance": how internalised transphobia held me back, & what now?

I realised recently how many friendships and collaborations I'd let lapse because of transitioning. Now I want to address that.

Recently I was invited to a queer spa weekend. It was awesome to be invited, but the person who asked me saw the hesitation in my eyes. They added that I could wear whatever I wanted - I assume this was because they thought I was worried about wearing a swimsuit. Because I’m so superficial, that would have been a good first guess at any other time. 

This time I was thinking of something deeper. I was thinking of how my sense of community has shifted massively since coming out, and it’s mostly not because anyone has said anything to me. It’s all in my head, and it’s held me back from so many amazing invitations. I want to be more daring, to have more confidence in the person that other people seem to believe in so much. It’s going to take time, but I am working on it.

Friendship groups

The most obvious example is with my friends. There are still some people who don’t know, and I’m not sure how to tell them. “How is that possible?” I hear you ask… I’m sorry to say I’ve stayed out of some people’s way. It’s entirely a value judgement based on the question of “do they seem too conservative to like what I’m doing?”

Don’t mistake me: I know I’m wrong to do this. But I’d had my fair share of bitter and rough rejections from friends who didn’t see the appeal in being trans, or who said how they hoped they’d never see me in a dress. I didn’t need to hear that from everybody, so I took a look at my contacts and made a mental note of who I thought would understand. 

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I’ve got a nice group of close friends now, but the idea that I wouldn’t stay in touch with people in case they rejected me is a symbol of how I tend to self-protect and self-censor. Maybe I’m not the only trans person to do that. It’s something I’m trying to get better at.

How I handled the change of identity on content I was making

I have made internet content for a long time. The thing was, a lot of it was based on a persona I’d enjoyed, of a guy with a typical guy’s sense of humour. When I discovered I had a whole side of myself I’d never explored, I didn’t know how to reconcile that with my straight-up cis male persona. I started trying to soft-launch it, but I realised that, as accepting as everyone was being within earshot, there were places I suddenly felt like a fish out of water. Similarly, I felt there were people who were really struggling with the change. 

The thing I’m most regretful about is losing out on a great content collaboration because I let some content we were working on go stale. I wish I’d had the bravery to front up to my feelings at the time, and confront any scepticism from my colleague, but let’s say coming out to myself has led to increased confidence, but that the process is ongoing. I imagine a lot of trans people struggle with this.

I’m working on things again and enjoying it like I used to, but some of the buzz is gone because people just don’t know me. I’m going to have to work out how to find the people who have always liked and respected me, and would welcome me back. Most of all, I’m going to have to get comfortable with being the person I am now, on the internet. 

It’s mostly internalised transphobia

Internalised transphobia wasn’t something I was familiar with before coming out, because I think I assumed it would be a short, affirming path to accepting myself in all scenarios. Instead, I felt this mental block, as if getting a sixth sense that one person or another “wouldn’t like to be involved in all this”. I might have been right, but I’m beginning to understand that hiding myself from people I appreciate is the coward’s way out. 

It’s partly a result of a really nasty incident where I became a whispered joke at an old workplace, when I was still in the closet. It’s what caused me to realise that, to quote another trans person, “once the genie is out of the bottle, you can’t put it back in.” In other words, you can only come out to people once. I took this as meaning that I had to be comfortable in my own skin before I told anyone.

I took that to extremes, hiding from a lot of opportunities that would have been fun. Had I been more brazen, I’d maybe have enjoyed myself more from the start, and not had to rebuild quite so many relationships in disrepair. The next step is to recover what's worth recovering.

I guess the message is not to let internalised transphobia keep you from living life in the most colourful way. As the old song says, “I hope you dance.”

What did you do to shake off self-doubt as you came out to others? Let me know, by email or on Bluesky.