One Word: A Poem

For so long I hid myself behind a veil.
A label. One word: Awkward.



I thought my body was awkward.
I wore pants in the summer
because I secretly thought that my thighs
were fatter than they were
and I hid this feeling behind the lies:
“My legs don’t get hot”
“I’m used to it. I have to wear pants
for field work.” My hips.
The fat that sits upon the bones.
It gives a girl that curvaceous appeal.
I despised the curves that sat there, but let
them be their awkward selves.



My face always looked
so masculine to me. “You
look so much like your dad!”
“The female twin to your brother”
Yes, I know. The female version.
My endless prayers to God to wake
as a boy when I was young never
were answered. I dealt with it. I was
stuck, born to be the female
double to my older brother.



I thought my personality was awkward.
Can I rephrase that? It is awkward. BUT
that does not define me, but I have let it become
me. I don’t know how to talk to people. It’s because
I’m awkward. I started college and made some friends
but I find it hard to make them on my own terms.
It’s because I’m awkward. To me, I was just that
AWKWARD kid. But I am more than that. What
I mislabeled as “awkward” are my insecurities,
fears, and lack of self-esteem and confidence.



There’s a young boy who I always saw
staring back at me. My reflection told me more
about the boy hidden behind “Awkward”. He hid
behind the pole of a word like a child might when
trying to find the perfect place for hide
and go seek. Of course I could see him
behind the pole, behind the title, but I
let him think I didn’t. I let him believe
he was a master at the game until he really was
and I lost sight of him as the pole grew in width
and suddenly he and I combined in the only manner
I knew how, we showed ourself to the world as the
awkward girl, she was kind and caring but something
was never quite right about her.



A new label. Because society loves
them so much. One word:
Transgender. Me.
Female to male. I’ve always wished
so dearly to have been born a boy.
I thought it impossible to see myself
as anything but that awkward girl and I
fooled myself into thinking I was okay with
what I was born as. Until one day in college
I looked in the mirror and felt all the confidence
that everyone should naturally feel. Make-up
gave me the shadow of what I could be as a man
until I had to unwrap the ace bandage from my breasts
and wash the façade off of my skin and become
the awkward girl again.



Transgender. This one word
gives me that confidence back.
The hair on my legs grow and I feel
progressively comfortable in shorts.
One day my hips will no longer bother
me with the fat that lays upon them. My face
has always been my own. I look like my dad
and my brother, I look masculine, and that’s my
comfort spot. Becoming myself. The fear to talk
to strangers fades. “I like your hair!” some guy
tells me, riding past on his bike. I could respond
without nerves. I could respond as myself.



I do not believe that I am broken, I am not
sick in the head or confused. This is not a rebellious
phase. This is just me. So, I say this:
Friends, I am still and will always be the same
person you met. I’m still the same person you decided
was cool enough or kind enough to befriend.
Family, I am still the same person you watched grow
up. You are not losing a child, grandchild,
sibling, or what have you. I am not going
anywhere. If anything, I am becoming more
present than ever. I will always be your child. I will always
be your grandchild. I will always be your
sibling. I will always be me.



For those of you who might not agree with
my decision to follow and become myself,
I respect your opinion and bid you adieu and wish
you the happiest of lives if you decide to no longer
be a part of my journey. For those of you who
support my decision and wish to come along
for the ride as I grow into the man I have always
been: I thank you, I love you, and you all mean the world
to me. No words can express my appreciation
for each and every one of you.



I used to say: “my life is a submarine”
and on days when I was feeling particularly
down, I would end the line with “and we’re all
sinking”. Now the submarine is afloat, so climb
aboard this journey with me. Let me introduce myself,
this is Captain Hayden Reid Fulfer speaking. Please
buckle your seat belts. This is going to be a very
bumpy ride. But the journey is worth it.
“My life is a submarine” and the fish that
surround me are beautiful and glorious creatures,
the water around me is so fresh and we may all
be sinking, but now we’re sinking with a purpose,
to explore, an adventure. Because coming out
of my submarine is nerve wrecking as hell, but
I am glad to have the grime scrubbed off my
sides and such a supportive crew.