There’s an awful lot of social pressure to partake in Christmas. You’re expected to be all jolly as you rush around stressed, scrambling to find the right gifts. Is it just me, or did Christmas become one big corporate holiday? After years of doing it my own way – which was nothing at all, not even buying or receiving gifts – I have learned that you can never tell people you are doing NOTHING on Christmas Day. They look horrified! They invite you to their home, they suggest alternatives. No, damn it! Is it okay if Ijust want to sit at home and be alone? Maybe eat myself to death. Can you let me do that, please? It’s the one fucking day I can eat an entire cheese pizza and not even feel bad for eating dairy. It’s my one big victim day, wrapped up in shiny paper and topped with a red bow.

 

vic·tim

ˈviktəm/

noun

-a person harmed, injured, or killed as a result of a crime, accident, or other event or action.

 

As a child born into the wrong body, you grow up scared to ask for what you really want. A boy asking for a doll is wildly inappropriate – but to a child, rejection is rejection. I recall walking the aisles of our shopping mall, dreaming of all the pretty dolls lying under our Christmas tree. Of course I would have to find something in between GI Joes and Barbie dolls, which usually ended up being a teddy bear or a Mr. Potato Head. Something neutral. My imagination would kick in as my cowboy boots became heels, and my most masculine toys would become a significant feminine character in my make-believe world.

When we all gathered at my grandparents’, I would find myself surrounded by excitement. My brother and cousins were perfectly matched with their gender-appropriate gifts. This is where lying became natural for me, opening up the presents only to find a camouflage jacket with a matching toy gun. Inside I was thinking, “What in god’s name will I do with this?” but outside I smiled with fake excitement. I never understood why Santa didn’t listen. Did I do something wrong? I was full of disappointment and jealousy. Eventually,Christmas became an act, the act got really old and I was tired of pretending to like my gifts or the holiday.

I couldn’t wait to grow up, to be able to fully express myself with materialistic things like fashion and style. Any person who appreciates personal style will tell you – it’s about how you feel. Your style is just an expression of your personality according to how you’re feeling. I find myself and others as a society shifting to darker tones as autumn and winter approach. During the holidays, my style reflects a darker side of me. Instead of pretending that I’m happy and thrilled to experience Christmas,I hide. I literally hide behind my oversized clothes, hats and scarfs. I dye my hair black and hope people don’t mind. My insecurities rise and my vibration lowers. Tis the season to be vulnerable.

But this year is different for me. For the first time, I’m out as a proud trans woman, fully loving and embracing my true essence. I found myself Googling what can I do to help trans youth during the holiday season. An organization QTYHG (Queer & Trans Youth Holiday Giving) popped up. All I wanted to do was give back to my community that I fell in love with. I found exactly what I was looking for. From the loneliest of places, from the darkest of moments, from an abundance of judgment and rejection, came a group of beautiful kids. They beamed of love. Even though they were told that their true being was wrong, their bravery and self-acceptance still shined through. I was so inspired. As I handed the presents to the teens, listening to their story, feeling their nervous energy, their vulnerability and self-acceptance broke my heart open. For the first time, I felt an actual purpose for all this holiday shit.It’s not about me anymore, I’m no longer the kid who didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas. It’s about helping others, making a better Christmas for kids who were just like me.

Tis the season to be grateful – grateful for these beautiful souls who shine through the shadows of judgment and rejection. Who stand bravely and love with pride. Tis the season to acknowledge how far we’ve come. I am so proud to no longer be the victim of my past and so honored to serve my beautiful LGBTQ community.

 

Btw, this year for Christmas my mom bought me bras and panties from Victoria’sSecret.So yes, it does get better.

 

Photos of this event were prohibited as our youth is susceptible to discrimination, violence and hate crimes.