In my last post, I spoke about changing my name. A milestone that’s significant for many transgender people. And it is! It’s really something. You’re not only going to have the body that you’ve always wanted, that ‘fits’ you, but you have a name that ‘fits’ too, your name. I’ve chosen a new name already. It’s a Muslim name like mine is now, and means something to me for a few reasons.

I’ve been so eager, I’ve already got a new e-mail and facebook account at the ready. With an empty address book and zero friends, but still, I can’t wait! But at the same time… What am I waiting for exactly? 

It came to me; I’m terrified. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about it. I feel like I can’t. It’s not just a name that’s changing, its nicknames, silly private jokes, and pronouns changing too. And relationships. I’m a brother, a son, a boyfriend now. A name means so much, come to think of it. It’s the one of the only things you can really call constant throughout your life. And it’s changing.

It should be a celebration. Why isn’t it? Because people are going to know about my transition without me telling them. Some people, I couldn’t care less about, like friends you’ve added on facebook from your primary school, hoping you’d reconnect. Or people you’ve slept with, who hang out at the same bar as you hoping to have round two, and notice you using the men’s toilet. But then there is family. I don’t have my parents on facebook, only my two cousins who actually live in the UK. I also have my sister on facebook, but we’re close and I can trust her, it’s no problem. But I’m going to come up in “suggested friends” and my cousins will raise an eyebrow when they see a photo that looks like me, with a different name, a male name. I wouldn’t change anything to make them feel more comfortable. It’s just how to go about ‘breaking the news’. And then word gets back to my parents…

Parents, is a topic for another post.

Another point I wanted to bring up; Restrooms/Bathrooms/Toilets/Lavatories. Whatever they’re called, they are divided, and you must make a choice. Whoever you are, whatever you identify as, you must still make a choice. Opening up about my transgender identity has opened my eyes as to how ridiculous it is to even have a divide between two genders when we urinate. I understand privacy is something we really hold onto in public places. But there is no real difference between these labelled washrooms, and in our culture, men and women are seen ‘equally’ anyway. (I used that word to compare with other cultures, in South Asia for example, women are very separate from men, as women’s bodies are incredibly tempting and must be hidden from the lustful male gaze. Total equality between men and women in our current culture is still a long way off, despite the advancements women have made in history.)

Recently, I’ve forced myself to start using the male toilets. Mostly in places I’m not familiar with. I’ve found that girls notice when I walk in, asking “is that a boy or is that a girl?” and guys, well they don’t notice at all. I don’t usually appreciate the ignorance of men, but on this occasion, I’m grateful. But the real reason I haven’t used male toilets in places I usually visit is because I don’t know where they are. It’s like visiting a place for the very first time! I feel so new, in a pub or restaurant I’ve visited for years. Like a tourist who didn’t go when they should have when their whole group did. And now they are walking up and down stairs, circling the room with an embarrassed smile of desperation. Hoping that no one is watching this pathetic loo-hunt, to see the tourist go into the ‘wrong’ restroom.

It’s actually everyone’s worst nightmare. Whether you’re in school, or on holiday, to use the wrong restroom is pretty horrifying, a feeling which multiplies with every smirking face you see as you leave. So imagine forcing yourself to use the ‘wrong’ restroom. The difference is confidence. I’ll be honest with you, I’ve only used the men’s toilets when I’ve had a pint or two, or known my friends weren’t around. Confidence.

In the same way pronouns, nicknames, and forenames change, using the male bathroom will be something I’ll get used to as well. And being confident in it all will help, I’ve just got to go for it and follow through. There’s no point going towards the male bathroom door and turning to use the girls. There’s no point telling my close friends to call me ‘he’ and not correct the one-night-stand I bump into.

I still feel terrified. But I think fear can be your friend. Teamed up with confidence, and you’ve got the perfect tag team for happine-Oh forget the cheesy, lame, last word. I actually do feel better after getting this out. Writing therapy; never fails me.