This is part of a two-week discussion on trans issues, available here.

As the debate around trans identities rages on those of us under the broad umbrella of “trans masculine” find ourselves in an interesting place. We exist, but in discussions of the trans experience we are often overlooked.

Trans masculine identities are those of people who were assigned female at birth, but do not identify as female. We are a broad group of people who may identify as male, non-binary, agender, or “genderqueer”. Some of us, though not all, may seek medical assistance through the use of hormones or surgery.

This variety can be hard to understand for people who have never felt a conflict between their identity and perceived gender. I was 26 by the time I worked out that my gender identity was causing me distress. Like many trans folk before me, and as Charlie Kiss so eloquently discussed in his contribution to this series, I was told that I was just a confused lesbian, in spite of the fact that I’m proudly bisexual. (I’m still often told that.)

But I am not alone. An article by Evan Urquhart for Slate last year highlighted that, since 2000, there has been a shift in those seeking medical assistance with transition. “According to anecdotal reports from clinicians and a handful of small studies of transgender youth, trans youth clinics in North America and Europe have seen a shift from a majority of transfeminine patients (assigned male at birth) to a majority of transmasculine patients (assigned female) now. In contrast, studies of adult trans patients thus far have either documented a majority of trans women or roughly equal numbers of trans women and trans men.” This suggests that the story told about the trans masculine experience is often a footnote, an addendum to the experience of trans women, as though all trans people experience things in exactly the same way. But, if increasing numbers of trans masculine people seem to exist, why have they been left out of the conversation? Part of the reason is that as far as media representations would have you believe, trans masculine people are white, physically able and capable of “passing” as cisgender men (ie, as people assigned male at birth). The focus is on trans men such as Aydian Dowling, an activist and bodybuilder who, with his muscular physique, fulfils the ideal of masculinity.

This means there is little space to discuss the issues faced by the silent majority of trans masculine people who don’t conform to this narrow ideal. Many of us are non-white, poor, survivors of abuse or trauma, or disabled. And, because of the lazy assumption that being trans masculine is somehow “easy”, because of the belief that trans men can pass by unnoticed, as men, our trans masculine stories are erased.

The obsession with whether or not someone is visibly trans does not help, either. This is where homophobia and transphobia unpleasantly intersect. Consider the furore about who can use which bathrooms in America. A video that quickly went viral showed a short-haired woman being forcibly ejected from a bathroom and called “sir”. Something similar happened in Britain in 2016, where we have no law about gendered facilities.

This attempt to punish trans people for not looking “real” enough affects everybody who doesn’t look “right”. These ideals have been internalised by the trans masculine community, where the desire to be accepted by current standards of beauty mean that we reinforce the arbitrary rules about what people need to look like to be male or female. Those perceived as “not trans enough” are rejected, and the stories of trans masculine people who do not confirm to a stereotype are not told.

My dysphoria also didn’t manifest in ways that I read it should. I was uncomfortable in my body, but had been taught that such feelings were simply what it meant to be female. Rather than constant active agony, I have always felt fundamentally uncomfortable. Not so much born in the wrong body, as feeling deeply like my body wasn’t mine.

From engaging with other trans masculine people, I now know that this experience is not rare. It is just not talked about. Proposed changes to the way in which we update official documents in Britain would make many people’s lives easier.

In the debate about the catchy slogans of “trans women are women”, and “trans men are men”, what seems to be missing is the fact that trans people are people. We exist across all demographics and always have done, and our experiences are varied. It’s time for us to dismantle the idea that there’s a right way to speak, to dress, to look, to be transgender.

And it’s essential that, if the anecdotal evidence is to be believed, a new world of trans masculine young people can grow up and know that they are valid and that they matter.

CJ Atkinson is a queer writer and academic. They are the author of “Can I Tell You About Gender Diversity?” and tweets at @theysingular.