The ‘T’ in LGBT+

When I came to Warwick everyone thought I was a girl.

I hadn’t been prescribed testosterone yet, so my voice hadn’t broken and I had no facial hair. Societally, those two things are strong indicators of gender identity, and it’s tough to be accepted as a man without them.

It’s even tougher for trans women to be accepted as a woman with them…I mostly avoided correcting people, because you never know who’s an ally and who’s going to give you grief about it. Our society, in general, is pretty hostile to trans people, and the risk of violence and harassment is always present.

Our society, in general, is pretty hostile to trans people

Every year on campus we hold a vigil for trans people killed in the past year, and trust me, the list of names feels terrifyingly long.

As a trans man Warwick Pride was my lifeline, and the only space that felt safe. I avoided socialising with my coursemates or hallmates, because I couldn’t interact with them in any meaningful way when they saw me as a girl. For me it was a time characterised by shame and embarrassment.

As a trans man Warwick Pride was my lifeline, and the only space that felt safe

I was fortunate to have an active LGBT+ community around me, but for many the isolation and despair can send them to a dark place. Almost half of all trans people try to commit suicide at some point. For me, my saving grace was a prescription of testosterone in my second year at university.

Monthly injections allowed my voice to break within weeks, and within a few months I was consistently recognised as male.
Finally I could travel through the world with other people seeing me the way I saw myself. Like I’d shed a skin that had obscured me before, I was free to have people understand me without any awkward conversations or fear of reprisal.

Within a few months I was consistently recognised as male

Finally, it was no one else’s business but mine what my birth certificate used to say. No one meeting me on campus for the first time today would have any idea I’m trans. That’s both a blessing and a curse; because you don’t know you know trans people, we’re still somehow weird and freaky to most people.My body didn’t match my brain, so I fixed it.

Who out there would really say their identity is defined by their body over their brain? If you and a friend swapped brains, would ‘you’ be your body with your friend’s brain, or your brain with your friend’s body?

Finally, it was no one else’s business but mine what my birth certificate used to say

I can’t imagine many people siding with the first option.

Jason Morgan