My grandfather, who had a difficult time coming to terms with it when I came out, has been working very hard to understand me and my experience. About 5 weeks ago, he asked me, almost offhand, “why are you so sure that you’re a man?”
And I replied, “well, I could ask you the same thing.” And I moved on, continued, tried to explain why I feel the way that I do, but I don’t think he heard any of those things that I said afterward.
Because six days later, we talked about it again, and this is what he told me:
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last week. Because all my life I identified it as ‘these are the parts that I have, and so I am a man’. But you’re living proof that gender is not limited to what is attached to your body, so I asked myself, why am I a man? And all I can say is ‘because I have no idea what it feels like to be anything else’. I cannot imagine what it’s like to be a woman. Or neither, or both, or any other gender. I have always been a man.”
And I replied, “that’s exactly what it feels like for me.”
So, shoutout to my cisgender grandfather, for stumbling upon the essence of being trans accidentally, with very little help from me. I love you, grandpa.