Across the world, the voices of transgender people demanding equality are only growing louder, an ever-increasing cacophony of voices that’s becoming impossible to ignore. However, an often-overlooked part of the transgender movement is those places where transgender voices are silenced and unheard. I have a unique outlook on the transgender experience, as I’m from a country where our cries for freedom are muffled. The Republic of Korea, while seen by many as being in the future, is still decades behind on transgender rights. In this article, I’ll recount my experiences of discovering myself and transitioning.
“When you spend your whole life living in a hole, the only way you can go is up.”
-Louis Sachar, Holes
I moved to South Korea when I was twelve, wide-eyed and curious as the Airbus landed in Incheon. At the time, my experiences with gender were limited; I wasn’t someone who knew they were transgender since they left the womb. There were signs though, signs I desperately tried to bury. My friendships with the other boys were fleeting, while interests typically considered feminine kept me captivated. I still had no idea what transgender people even were when I landed here.
I had a sheltered and religious upbringing and was taught that anything related to the LGBT community was a sin. It made it difficult to reconcile myself to the fact that I was not a normal boy. Regardless of my thoughts, the march of time was inevitable, and with that came puberty. The day I noticed body hair was when I found it impossible to deny it anymore. I was different and would have to figure out why.
“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”
-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Google is an invaluable resource in the 21st century. The name Google comes from the number googol, which is 10 to the 100th power—meant to represent just how much information is on there. Almost 100,000 searches are made on Google every second. The site gives you access to a wealth of knowledge that dwarfs the Library of Alexandria.
Yet, despite all that, I could find no answer for why I was the way I was on Google. The site mentioned something about transgender people, people who were born as one gender but transitioned to another, I thought that couldn’t possibly be me. However, the more I read, the more similarities I noticed. It was uncanny. I felt seen for the first time in my life, it was as if someone had written down all my experiences in words.
Freaks.
That was the word I always heard used in reference to transgender people. Korea is not friendly to those who are different. East Asia is all about conformity and fitting into society’s definition of normal. You’re seen as either a normal functioning member of society or a failure. Even the touch of femininity I had was enough to separate me. I recoiled at the thought of being seen as a freak forever.
Because of that, I didn’t want to accept it. I just closed the tab and moved on with my life, ignoring the nagging unease in my mind. But there’s something about gender dysphoria that’s all-encompassing. It won’t let you escape from its grasp, holding onto you with a vice-like grip. I remember finally cracking at fifteen, anger coursing through my entire body. As much as I hated it, I was transgender.
“I’m sorry I keep saying
‘How are you?‘
when I really mean
‘Are you happy?‘”
-Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
A monumental part of every transgender person’s life is coming out. It’s difficult even in the best situations, with parents you know will be supportive. The challenge multiplies tenfold when you know they won’t be supportive. That’s what I faced when I had to come out to my mom. After I told her about my struggles with my gender, tears welling in my eyes, she only had one thing to say. With a look of shock and a little disgust, she whispered to me in indignation.
“You’re telling me you’re one of those freaks?”
Those words hurt me more than I could ever express in this article. I knew this was the likely outcome, but hearing those words devastated me. Despite that though, I realized something important. For the first time, I wasn’t hiding who I was. While her words stung me deep to the core, I knew I couldn’t live for the expectations others had for me anymore. I had to live for myself.
“It’s the choosing that’s important, isn’t it?”
-Lois Lowry, The Giver
Transitioning in Korea was a road paved with challenges. Not just social rejection, but the bureaucratic hurdles were an issue as well. The process of getting on HRT (hormone replacement therapy) was difficult. As the first step, I had to go through an interview that felt much closer to an interrogation and fill out a lengthy form that took more than three hours. The process didn’t get any easier subsequently, but it was all worth it.
People often say that feminizing HRT is magic, and that couldn’t be more true. It not only halts the wave of masculinization but completely turns it around. I was worried I’d made the wrong choice, risking my life just to transition. The second the pill hit my tongue though, I knew it wasn’t a mistake.
“Till this moment I never knew myself.”
-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
I’ve learned that being transgender in a society that values conformity means you must create your own path. It’s isolating, to say the least, but it also makes you fierce. I have a million regrets, but the choice to transition isn’t one of them. If anything, I consider having the opportunity to transition one of the greatest blessings I’ve ever been granted.
For those of us in countries where our voices are still muted, the fight is far from over. But change starts with visibility— sharing our stories, speaking our truths, and refusing to be silenced. This article, as small as it may be, is one of the many contributions I’m making to help those in the same situation as me.
To those reading this article, wherever in the world you are, let’s listen to the voices that are often unheard. Let’s do our best to create a world where everybody can live as their authentic selves without fear.
We can do it.
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