He finishes her sentence by saying, “Myself.”
Something in his simple response resonated with me in a
powerful way. I’m not transgender and in no way know what that’s like. I was
born with lady parts, I like them that way. I identify as a woman. I am a
woman. But I have not always been myself and even now struggle to be me. I
understood in that moment the fear, the courage, the power in reemerging as
“myself”. A part of me longs to be the
one being interviewed, sitting there on the couch, reemerging as myself in
front of everyone; in front of the world.
I learned at a very early age how to read people and I could
quickly determine who and what they wanted me to be. I became an incredibly
talented chameleon. Being a part of a prominent family in a religious world
dictated my identity. Every moment of my life was on stage and as such I
naturally became an actress in all facets of my life, both personal and
otherwise.
I became the person I was supposed to be but never
identified as her.
There is a fear that people will think I’m changing, that
I’m becoming someone else, and they will draw all types of conclusions and
assumptions as to why and how. And in part they will be right; I am changing.
I’m connecting to the person who has always been covered up and disguised. I’m
removing the façade. I can’t blame them for not knowing that person and for
identifying this change as what’s fake.
The process of getting to know myself is scary. It means
letting go of the safety shield I’ve held up between myself and others, or even
between myself and the self I project into the world. It’s kind of a psychotic
mess that can scare you out of grappling with the grace and shame, the honesty
and embarrassment that needs to be dealt with. It is a vulnerability that is
foreign to me.
The process, though, has taught me self-love and acceptance,
and that those things aren’t selfish or self-indulgent but are necessary if I
am ever going to be genuinely alive. I am growing in my understanding of grace
and kindness. I believe that one can never truly extend to other people what they
are unable to extend to themselves. Once we are able to connect to our hearts
and love ourselves, our love for others then comes from a deeper, more
authentic place, our words are naturally more kind and our eyes see more than
the masks held up in front of a face. It is the antidote to pride.
Underneath the face of arrogance and perfection is a deep
pool of insecurity that will drown you if you aren’t careful. I have become
good at treading water but it’s exhausting and I’m trying to swim to shore and
rest, exposed to everyone as myself. You know the feeling of spending all day
on a boat and then laying down in bed that night, you still feel like you’re
swaying with the waves? Living life in that realm is a strange experience, the
sense of uneasiness and being a little off balance. I’d imagine it takes a bit
for that feeling to go away. It is all a part of the process. And it’s one I
can’t rush or control.
Bruce Jenner is a woman and I think that freaks a lot of
people out. There was a time when I would have been so compelled to bang on the
pulpit of morality that I would withhold grace and love, the very things I’m called
to give freely. I’ve realized though that it’s not about being transgender, or
gay or male or female or black or white or atheist or anything else that allows
you to label someone as unlovable. It is about coming together as human beings
and allowing each other to be themselves; people who are inherently flawed but
unconditionally lovable.
Call me idealistic, but I wish we could all sit on that
couch and reemerge as ourselves. I believe the humility and vulnerability it
takes to do that would rid the world of pride in a heartbeat. But we can’t
force anyone onto that couch. It’s hard enough to get myself there.
And so it’s down this journey I continue, stumbling along
and figuring it out as I go. Reemerging as myself.
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