I always feel bemusedly uneasy when someone tells me that they think I’m really brave for transitioning. I’m quite unable to grasp their rationale. I’m not rushing into a burning building to rescue a toddler in my bare feet in the middle of the night. I’m not wading through a flooded stream to pluck a hapless puppy from the lower branches of a tree. I’m just being me. For the first time in my entire life, I’m simply just being me. Antithetically, I silently ponder the pros and cons of increasingly noisily demanding bravery from those that continue to refuse to acknowledge transgender or gender diverse folk.
I’m not brave. I’m just finally certain of who I am, and the minimum terms of engagement I must demand in my pact with society.