Your Place in Your Friends Transition.

“Don’t worry about it… tonight isn’t the night for dropping bombs”, my friend said these words to me from across a small but crowded dancefloor. Me (on my third glass of cheap red), replied “just tell me, I’m in a good mood, I can take it!”. At the time I thought my mate had just broken up with their partner and couldn’t understand why their eyes refused to meet mine, or why their hands fiddled in front of them.

My friend took a deep breath- “I’ve decided I’m not happy living as a man”, still looking down.

It took me a beat, a moment to appreciate what a monumental statement that was.

“Are you transgender?”

“Uh…yeah”

This was two years ago; we had just finished university and were spending the night celebrating with our graduating class. I would learn much later that this was the first time she has spoken these words, and that I was the first who had asked that question. I am so glad that this moment happened, even though it was not the gentlest way to approach the question, it allowed for a gate to open in our friendship which we have been traipsing through ever since. But even starting this article I am aware of how many times I have used the word “I” to describe something that has not been my own journey. My friend- let’s call her Mel- spent years in a body that she does not feel was her own, and now at the age of 23 is allowing herself to live her truth. Watching her bring her body up to speed with her brain has been an eye opening and emotional experience for both of us. Being a cisgender person, I cannot begin to understand the ongoing and overwhelming issues that my friend has had with her body. All I can do is offer a little advice and perspective to those who are helping a friend through a transition journey.

My first piece of advice is so simple; show up. What has been disclosed to you is something so precious, so quite honestly the very least you can do is physically be around. Have the difficult conversations, wait outside for the blood tests to be finished, and celebrate the wins when they come. The body begins to shift underneath the new hormones, and though it is a brilliant and beautiful thing to witness, it comes with moments of difficulty. Mel still battles with being misgendered, and people with genuine ignorance not taking the time to acknowledge her decision for change. As difficult as Mel’s relationship is with her own body, some members of the public feel the to take issue with it also. So put bluntly; you must show up. Embrace the wins and defend your friend from the losses.

As Mel’s body began to change, I saw her mentality shift also, and her relationship with her body improved tenfold in the first 3 months of taking estrogen. She had previously been at war with herself and her body, constantly putting it down in a way that I always took as self-deprecating humour. The reality was that her perception of herself was altered through the lens of gender dysphoria- something she wouldn’t realise herself for another couple of years. Once the changes begun to take place, an emotional shift followed. For the first time in my life I saw my friend cry, express anger, and frustration. A well-timed joke or a small discomfort could bring on a symphony of emotion, I had never seen such peaks and troughs in one person’s mental landscape. During those difficult conversations I realised something vital. IN my moments of silence, my friend spoke candidly. Small whispers of “I’ve just been waiting so long”, or “I can’t believe it’s finally happening”. In this moment I recognise that writing an article about this is quite ironic, but my next piece of advice is to recognise when it is time to be silent. It was the moments that I stopped to listen that I realised the mental change occurring as her body shifted. From here I was able to be a better friend, gauging where her mind was in the quiet moments, and supporting her through them.

As a cisgender person it can be quite nerve wracking to discuss these topics, I am not speaking from the personal perspective of a trans person. But this brings me to my next point- it is useful to understand that you don’t understand. Acknowledge when you and your perspective may not have a place in the conversation. Being able to pinpoint where sympathy becomes empathy is not the easiest of tasks, and it does require you to check your privilege and park judgement at the door. Be patient with yourself, if this is something you are unfamiliar with you may slip up. No one is expecting you to understand someone in their entirety but coming at each conversation with an open heart and mind will assure your friend of the love and support you have for them. Remember that is the relationship that they hold with their body that may be difficult for them, not the relationship they have with you or the life they have otherwise built. I spent a long time trying to understand exactly everything Mel was going through, researching my heart out so that I could support her with every little fact and figure my brain could latch on to. Finally, I recognised that given my life experience, I am never going to completely comprehend a gender transition. And this does not mean I cannot help, it means that my truth (and the truth of every person Cis, Trans, or Otherwise) is different.

I want to finish this by stating that Mel’s experience, and therefore my own, is evocative of just one set of people trying to figure out a complicated but wonderful situation. Each person’s journey with identity is unique and will require support in different ways. I have been lucky enough to support a friend on her transition journey, and I hope there is some value in the words I have written for those who are currently attempting to help a friend. Mel continues to change and mould her body into the one that fits her, and I continue to support her in whatever way that I can. At the end of all of this I only want to share what beautiful journey it is to be apart of. She is choosing every part of her new life, and thankfully, I’m along for the ride.