Today, I had a moment of complete clarity—one of those rare instances where everything just falls into place, and I realize how deeply I understand myself. It’s something I’ve felt my entire life, but I’ve never been able to articulate it quite like this until now.
I’m female. Not in some distant, abstract way that others might try to define for me, but in a way that feels so intrinsic, so deep within my being that no external measure could ever touch it. It’s not my anatomy, not my chromosomes, not even my intersex condition—none of those things define my womanhood. They are parts of my story, yes, but they are not the essence of who I am. My heart, my mind, and my emotions have always been female, and that’s what matters.
I’ve spent so much time hearing what others think I should do. The whispers and suggestions about surgery, as if somehow altering my body would change how I experience myself. The truth is, it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t affect how I feel when I wake up every morning knowing that I am, and have always been, female. Surgery won’t make me more of a woman that I already am, because my gender isn’t something that exists in my body—it lives in my soul, my thoughts, and the way in which I experience the world.
I realize now that it’s okay to live my life exactly as it is, on my terms, without needing to prove or justify anything to anyone. I don’t need to change my body to validate my identity. If I’ll always have male genitalia and an otherwise naturally female body, so be it—it doesn’t change anything about how I feel. In fact, it’s irrelevant. I am female in every way that matters to me, and that’s all there is to it. The way I feel inside—this deep sense of peace and connection to my gender—is something no one else can touch.
There’s something almost sacred about the emotions I feel when I think about being female. It’s not just an intellectual understanding; it’s this warm, almost tender sensation that spreads through me whenever I reflect on my gender. It’s as though every part of me—my heart, my mind, my spirit—knows that this is my truth, and there’s no need for anything beyond that. I’m whole just as I am.
I realize now that I don’t need to listen to what others think I should do with my body. It’s my life, my experience, and I’m perfectly content with the way I exist. Living authentically doesn’t mean conforming to anyone’s expectations of what a woman, should be. It means being true to myself, in whatever form that takes.
And for me, that form is perfect as it is.
September 11, 2024
