As we all know, each gender transition journey is unique to the individual. Each is informed by our singular past, our personal experiences. But all of us who have or are going through the transition share certain feelings and fears.

On the online version of THE GUARDIAN, I came across the story of Lucy Sante, a Belgian-born American writer who gender transitioned in her late 60s. Much of what she wrote in an email and sent out to her friends after she began her journey, resonates with me. Her thoughts are so familiar. Her concerns mirror mine.

Her decision to finally take the leap and transition came when she downloaded a face app and started uploading old photos of herself so she could see what she would look like as a woman.

"Very soon I was feeding every portrait and snapshot and ID‐card picture I possessed of myself into the magic gender portal. The first archival picture I tried, contemporaneous with my first memory of staring into a mirror and arranging my hair and expression to look like a girl, was an anxious, awkward studio portrait of a tween. The transformed result was a revelation: a happy little girl. Apart from her long black hair, very little had been done to transform Luc into Lucy; the biggest difference was how much more relaxed she looked."

"I was having a much better time as a girl in that parallel life. I passed every era through the machine, experiencing one shock of recognition after another: that’s exactly who I would have been. The app weirdly seemed to guess what my hairstyle and fashion choices would have been in those years. And the less altered the images were, the deeper they plunged a dagger into my heart. That could have been me!"

Reading those words hit me hard. I can't tell you how many times I've wished I could have gone back into the past and transitioned into the woman--the girl!--I was meant to be. I've looked at old pictures of me and imagined a feminine self. I already had long hair that hung to my mid-back. I was impossibly thin, and not the mesomorphic masculine ideal. I wore clothing made of satin and silk, which everyone else attributed to my rock-loving persona and not a desire to be a woman. I was ALMOST there, but I coward when it came to taking the final step.

My reasons were much the same as Sante's.

"There are many reasons why I repressed my lifelong desire to be a woman. It was, first of all, impossible. My parents would have called a priest and had me committed to some monastery. And the culture was far from prepared, of course."

Of course. While I didn't come from a strict religious household, my family held beliefs rooted in the Judeo-Christian ethic. I don't fault them for that, it was all that they knew. But as a young woman trapped in a young man's body, it created an insurmountable wall.

I won't spoil Sante's essay by quoting too much of it. Go read it. If you are what is called middle-aged, and still new to your transition like me, you will probably see much of yourself in her story. If you are younger, you may not get as much out of it, but at least be thankful that you don't have as far to go to reach your goals as your older sisters.

--- Anni