My world turned around on Sept. 27th, 2021 at 6:54 P.M.
As I read over the singular text from my mother sent 10 minutes prior, a familiar feeling in my gut grew while I frantically asked my closest friends what to do over Discord. The room fell into an eerie silence whilst only the clicking of my mechanical keyboard could be heard. My hands trembled as I felt the weight in my body leave, deflating any semblance of confidence I had just a few minutes earlier.
I usually liked the sound of my keyboard, but now it manifested as a reminder of what I would soon have to confront. My life-long secret had been released to the very people I feared telling the most: my parents.
My mother texted me: “Felix?”
I had come out to my teachers two months prior, the day before school started. If there was one thing that would ruin my grades, it would be my deadname, and I couldn’t stand to have bad grades. However, I didn’t expect that a teacher would send my parents an email with my real name, pushing me out of the closet, exposing me.
While my parents have always been accepting of transgender people, their offhand comments made the closet seem more appealing than reality. They didn’t realize how imprinted these messages were on my younger self, and I didn’t either. Subconsciously, I felt as if it were wrong to be me.
I suppose it was that fear that led me to keep my secret for so long— for two years— from my parents. The fear of being questioned for my identity, like I have endlessly done myself, was terrifying. I was now sure of my identity, but with the pressure of socially transitioning, I was afraid of even starting.
So it became my secret.
My transgender friend describes this experience as being an undercover agent. Sitting at the dining table was no new experience; I was used to getting in trouble, but this was different. I felt like my mission was found out by the very people I was working against, and they were waiting just behind the door.
Despite not getting in trouble, this moment would decide if my mission would be successful. I was forced to confess to them— then my three younger siblings— that I am a boy, and that my name is Felix.
…
My name means lucky cat.
I didn’t choose it for its meaning, but being shoved out of the closet the day before your birthday did make me feel like a lucky cat. I thought my life would be ruined; my parents wouldn’t accept me for who I am, and I would be stuck knowing that for the rest of my life. It’s a feeling most transgender people experience, and I can’t fathom what I would have done without acceptance.
Looking back, it’s the luckiest day of my life.
For years, I felt as if something were wrong with me. As I grew older, I talked about how I wished I could change my name to my parents, but nothing ever came from it. It was a feeling that lingered like an infection, and I only found the cure when I was told: yes, men can be feminine and still be men.
…
As I stare at my Cold Stone cookie dough ice cream cake adorned with pink buttercream frosting, I feel the tears drop from my eyes as ‘Happy Birthday Felix’ fills my ears. When I blow out the sparky pink and white spiral candles, I realized my one true wish for the past thirteen years had already come true. I had a real, happy birthday.
