At the age of three I told my nana, “There’s been a mistake, I’m not a girl”; at 17 I made my identity public knowledge. I am Jasper, a now 24-year-old transgender man, almost seven years into my transition – and happier than ever. The happiness I now feel was hard fought, as is the case for many trans and gender-diverse folk like me.
Trans rights are in the news again because of the tour of the rightwing anti-trans agitator Kellie-Jay Keen, AKA Posie Parker. My mum and I attended the nipaluna/Hobart counter-rally along with hundreds of other fair-minded people. We couldn’t hear it at the time, but my mum and I were subject to baseless personal attacks from Parker, which led to a flurry of online harassment labelling my parents as “groomers”, deadnaming and misgendering me. On a positive note, in one of her tweets Parker called me a “small straight man” and, while I’m sure it was meant to offend, my Tinder bio has never looked better.
There were two options for me as I grew up and had no choice but to accept my identity – I could die or find a way to live as Jasper. I did not want to die but I was terrified of how difficult transition would be. No two gender-diverse people trek the same transition path; I am one of those who knew medical transition was necessary for me – a genuinely lifesaving process.
I have been extremely lucky, in comparison with many of those in my community, to have family and friends who have supported me. My transition so far has had an almost $25,000 price tag. Many of those who need this medical care have no hope of accessing it. I simply couldn’t have become the happy, healthy young man I am if my family had not been able to largely economically support me through it.
At the age of 18 I began hormone replacement therapy, much to the concern of my parents at the time – not because they were unsupportive, but because they did not understand how it would impact me in the future. HRT is not easy to access; in my home state of lutruwita/Tasmania my need for medical treatment had to be evaluated by a psychiatrist over the course of multiple sessions and I had to display a sound mind to make what I knew to be a largely irreversible decision.
At 19 I underwent gender-affirming surgery. Waking up from general anaesthetic afterward is, and probably always will be, the happiest I have ever felt. For the first time I felt at home in my body.
The social transition was awful, many months of fearing public bathrooms, being met with judgmental stares, and trying to ignore ignorant comments about my appearance. While I was working at a pub in my early transition a few years ago, I was grabbed by the crotch by a man at a table of fiven. They all laughed as I scurried away, completely terrified and humiliated. One of the men later came to the bar to withdraw cash, stating jokingly to me that they had “made a bet” as to “what [I] was” and grabbing my crotch was their way of figuring it out. All I could do was go home and cry to my mum about how I would never be “right”. To this day, I still get a hot rush of fear when I am faced with an old friend who has not seen me since before my transition. For the most part I am pleasantly surprised by their support – if they recognise me.
Transitioning has been equally the hardest and most wonderful thing I have ever done.
Gender diversity is not new but our stories have been hidden and erased for centuries as people have strayed from the binaries of assigned sex. We have for so long been pushed to the fringes of society, labelled as “freaks”. It is scary to be trans – there has been an increase in violence towards the trans community, particularly trans feminine people, and while this seems like a new problem, it is not. Trans people were targeted in Nazi Germany and we are being targeted today.
Only now do we have the connectivity to understand what’s happening to people like us all over the world. We see violence driven by hatred. We hear Republican voices in the US call for the “elimination of transgenderism”. The data shows we are far more likely to attempt suicide than the general population. For some of us the fight to be who we are is too hard.
While there are many who support us and do so with great fervour, as we saw just last week, the hateful language of Parker is dangerous. It echoes that of LGBTQI+ hatred throughout history.
We have news for all of those who cheer these ignorant narratives. We are here, we are real and we are everywhere. None of us go through the arduous process of transition to fit someone else’s category of “woman” or “man” – most of us do it for survival, and because we deserve to live in a body that feels like home, that feels like us. Our stories are individual and beautiful, and a testament to the eclectic rainbow of human diversity.
We refuse to be erased and will continue to fight hatred and transphobia for as long as we must – as Parker found out last week when our collective efforts sent her packing back to the UK. While it is tiring that we are still having to fight to exist, the rallies we saw last week give me great hope that there are so many who will fight alongside us.
Jasper Lees is a law student and trans rights activist from Hobart, Tasmania. He gives educational talks, including for Dark Mofo’s Dark and Dangerous Thoughts panel in 2019, about the experience of transitioning from female to male in adulthood
In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. In the US, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255. In the UK, Samaritans can be contacted on 116 123. Other international suicide helplines can be found at befrienders.org
