longer.blue

Dear Jesse… Dear Evelyn, I know the exact moment this letter is for. When you were just 16 years old and you bought your first set of femme clothing. When you waited for everyone in the house to go to sleep so that you could try it on. It wasn’t a costume, not a phase you could talk yourself out of. It was a femme identity that had been waiting underneath everything else. We both knew it was there, but things are never so simple. First: you were not broken for noticing it late, or early, or in pieces. Realizing who you are is not a test you pass on the first try. It is a door opening. You do not have to sprint through it. You are allowed to stand in the doorway and breathe. Here is what I wish someone had told you then. You are allowed to want softness… pretty things. A name that sits right in your chest. Clothes that make your body feel like yours instead of a costume you were issued. Wanting those things does not make you any less of a person. Femme is not a performance you have to earn. It is a home you get to move into at your own pace. Give yourself like a gift to the people who deserve it. Don’t live your life to ensure the happiness of others. Don’t spread yourself thin and saturate your friend group. Choose the people who matter… the people who choose you just as you choose them. These are the people who will support you, not just now, but in your future self. You aren’t perfect, and you never will be. And while I know you have heard this many many times in your life already… it only becomes more true. There is no correct way to be femme, or to be masc, or to be yourself. Everyone struggles with self image, self doubt, and acceptance. Embrace who you are and don’t let the voice of the unimportant impact your happiness. Protect your joy. Try the nail polish, the voice lessons, hell… wear something besides shorts or a work uniform. Learn how to express yourself through something more than text. Become comfortable in your own skin… and then learn how to customize some outfits! It’ll be important down the road. There will be hard days. Families who do not get it. A body that feels like it is speaking the wrong language. Exhaustion from explaining. Those days do not mean you chose wrong. They mean the world is still catching up. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to be angry. I need you to hear this part clearly: you survive this. More than survive. There is a version of you who looks in the mirror and feels a quiet, stubborn recognition. Who has friends who use the right name without being asked twice. You will find a way, and you’ll even enjoy the journey. You do not have to become her overnight. You only have to stop abandoning the girl who just realized she was there. I am proud of you for noticing. I am proud of you for being brave enough to look. Come find me. I’ll be here, with softer hands and a name that finally sounds like home. With love, the woman you are becoming