As a trans person, I often ask myself the exhausting question, “Am I real?”

Usually when I come out to strangers as trans, they assume I am a trans woman or I am “going through a phase,” because I still present as feminine. Even when I came out to my own primary care physician, he hurtfully asked me, “So you’re trying to be a woman?” Because there is little mainstream representation of trans people not on hormones, many people have a limited perception of how varied trans experiences are. The truth is: I am a trans boy, and always have been.

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Contrary to what pop culture and authority figures often assume, there is no one way to “look” transgender or non-binary — how people express their identity can and should be as varied as they please. For some people, that includes hormone replacement therapy (HRT) or surgery; others may choose not to follow those paths, whether due to financial limitations or personal reasons. It’s crucial that everyone has autonomy over their bodies and identities, and people who were assigned male at birth (AMAB) or assigned female at birth (AFAB) should not feel obligated to transition in any one specific way in order to be taken seriously by outsiders and members of the trans community alike. No matter the steps you take for your transition, no matter your reason — you are still real.

This fall, photographer Carter Schneider and I asked nine trans-masculine and AFAB non-binary people to come together for a conversation on representation, femininity, and the ongoing pressure to present in certain ways in order to receive safety or support. Together, we redefine what is real and what is possible for our communities and ourselves.

Teen Vogue: How do you identify your gender to yourself or to other people?

Evan (he-him or ze-zir): I identify as male, but I’ve come to accept that [my identity is] more fluid than I initially thought.

Nic (they-them): I came out as a lesbian when I was 16. When I was dressing more “masculine,” my mom would ask, “Oh, are you trans?” It wasn’t in a nice way. I was like, “No” because I knew I’m not a transman. When I met my partner at 23, they said, “non-binary.” I was like, “That’s it! Finally.” Not that there’s anything wrong with being lesbian, but being a lesbian was a box and that’s not my box. I can 100% identify as myself now.

Teshale (we-our-us or no pronouns): When I write, I usually will do “third-gender.” I don’t believe in definitions that are the opposite of something. It’s not like I’m not “non-white.” I’m black. I’m not-not the center. [Non-binary] still centers language that I don’t support.

Martine (they-them): I’ve known that I was trans for a while without acknowledging it. It has been so difficult, but I remind myself that I feel fine. I’ll be in transition forever.

SJ (he-him): I’m basically Steven from Steven Universe.

Photo by Carter Schneider

TV: Have you felt pressure to become anything in particular at different points in your life?

Teshale: “Must be surrounded by community,” “must be on T,” “must be the best boy.” That best-ness is a part of my personality, an internal pressure to do things perfectly — or not doing things at all. The hormones story is also so Eurocentric; I’m masculinized no matter what I do. I could be the highest femme in heels, and people are going to think of me as more “manly” than a small white woman because I’m black. I don’t need to perform masculinity that is for white people.

Oliver (he-him or they-them): From middle school to my freshman year in high school, I took it upon myself to dress and act like the other girls [in my class]. Gym class was fun, changing was not. I tried to find the language to describe the discomfort I felt with my body and thought “If my boobs were bigger” my problems would be solved. It was less of a journey of knowing I was trans since childhood, and more of a discovery of comfort.

Martine: I love makeup and I love jewelry. I’m a very femme person. Sometimes that’s when I really hate myself. There are many times where I feel “too femme,” or “not femme enough.” But, rocking the “femme-masc” look is my style. I’ll put an outfit on, and put earrings on.

Nic: My family is pretty liberal, but my mom wants to have a “perfect” kid. If we went out, I had to dress feminine or else she would deem me unattractive. She would say, “Oh, are you going to wear that?” She later explained, “I was just trying to protect you from other people saying something.” I didn’t get harassment from other kids, I got it from her. Now it’s about me trying to figure out how I wanted to identify from early on.

Cairo (they-them): A lot of people just see me just as a masculine woman. I used to take that into account when getting dressed in the morning; I was putting myself together in a way where people would be confused. I wanted people to be confused. I’ve been pressured to be a lot of different things, even sexuality-wise, to “pick one.” Most things are filled with pressure. I feel pressure to dress hyper-masculine, I feel pressure to dress hyper-feminine, I feel pressure to have a partner.

Evan: In terms of how I dressed, for a while I was like, “skirts and dresses have the cooties.” I have always enjoyed painting my nails. Even if I considered something fun, I thought, “Oh, this is too feminine for me.” That manifested itself into, “Real boys don’t do x, y, or z.”

Teshale: I don’t want to have more hair. If I were to have top-surgery, I would get a boob job. I don’t see it as de-transitioning; I do enthusiastically want more femininity in my life. I want softer skin. You can transition in many different ways, in whatever way feels good. [For me, there’s] so much trauma from being a raised woman and from growing up with that experience, there is a line of seeking something that’s safer, and being masculine is safer. Also, is it internal misogyny? What does safety look like?

Oliver: When I first identified as a transman, well more so transboy, I felt amazing, but the label amplified my dysphoria. I thought that if I didn’t feel exactly the same as the transmen I saw online, then my identity wasn’t valid. Being misgendered filled my chest with dread. I saw my body as female and despised it, hid it, hurt it. I had to have felt like I was “born in the wrong body.” I didn’t find out about the term non-binary until my senior year, and embraced it when I moved away for school. I was wary of identifying as non-binary out of fear that I wouldn’t be taken seriously, but once I did, I slowly untangled a lot of internalized transphobia. My body is not wrong. I put binary labels on it to feel valid when ironically, the core of being transgender breaks those binaries.

Photo by Carter Schneider

TV: When have you felt pressure to be “beautiful”? What does this mean for you now?

Kris (they-them): In instances that require “formality.” In spaces with fancy gowns and suits, notions of performing cis-ness are dialed all the way up. You are put under the spotlight of which you choose. When [I was] growing up, those were the instances when my mom insisted I wore dresses. I would barter over time to get to wear more suits.

Martine: I feel pressure when I am more masculine presenting. There are times I have an internal struggle where an outfit makes me feel so comfortable in my gender, but I also don’t know if I look good. If I don’t look just right before I leave the house, I can’t leave the house.

SJ: I feel pressure all the time. I'll wake up and just be negative. I’m close to my family, but everybody criticizes me. My mom says, “You’re chubby,” “You need to cut the hair off your face.” As an AFAB Ecuadorian, I feel expected to have straight hair, and not have any facial hair, leg hair. I’ve waxed my body so many times. My dad is Swedish; all my cousins in Sweden are blonde with blue eyes, very pale. They’re gorgeous people, but I never felt like I was part of that family’s beauty standards.

Oliver: When I tried to squeeze myself into the image of a cis female, along with it came traditional beauty standards. I felt unattractive, “ugly” with my acne and frizzy hair and “boyish” body, [and] "unwanted" by cis boys. Now that I have a better understanding of myself, I play with makeup more, color my hair, and have a skincare routine. It’s more fun and experimental and full of care rather than chipping away at myself to fit someone else’s ideal beauty. I look forward to cutting and regrowing my frizzy, curly hair that connects me to my mother and Sāmoan roots. Of course, I’m not free of beauty pressures, but I appreciate the ugly, grimy side of people and art more. It’s all human, complex and beautiful.

Photo by Carter Schneider

Kris: There is society’s beauty and then our community’s beauty. I see beauty in all of these vulnerable spaces we occupy. Sometimes when I see people on Instagram, they are so beautifully nothing. They’re not part of the binary, and they are just themselves.

Nate: Right now I don’t feel any pressure to be anything for anyone. Being a femme is such an important part of how I exist in my body. Even though I experience dysphoria sometimes, I love my body the way it is because there are such harmful beauty standards and expectations placed on me and other femmes. As a teenager, I received all of my validation from appearing as a beautiful female person. I do still feel self-conscious when I am intimate with people. I wonder if they see me as some woman-bodied person, or if they see me as a boy with t*ts and a p*ssy.

Cairo: I felt pressure when I was dating a white cis man — [it wasn’t] just society’s beauty standard, but what he was attracted to, his behavior depending on how I presented. He never used my pronouns. He told me I was more beautiful with long braids than with a shaved head. I clung to whatever he wanted because I didn’t know myself. When I was even younger, I straightened my hair and used lighter powder on my face. I lived in a small town in Oregon, and I was the only black person in my elementary school. Once I got to a place with different identities and cultures in high school, I thought, “Oh, that’s not all that there is.” My soul knows what my human needs to learn, that this beauty standard is not my standard for myself.

Nate: Beauty is a soul thing. Your higher self or who you are under your ego, we can get a peek into that. When someone is laughing hysterically and their face is all screwed up and they’re snorting. Stuff that’s not pretty, but it’s so beautiful. I think that goes hand-in-hand with not caring what I visually look like to other people. You can tell when someone sees you not with their eyes. Yes, you can be physically attracted to someone, but seeing someone as beautiful is when you see into what makes them unique, what makes them them.

Photo by Carter Schneider

TV: How do you affirm yourself?

Cairo: Finding boundaries, safe spaces, feeling energy from people based off my intuition. Sometimes people will stray away from me when I want to dress femme, but they validate me when I present society's standard of masculine. I feel most affirmed when I don’t have comparisons. I can look at the mirror, naked, no makeup, doing my thing.

SJ: I feel the most comfortable in my relationship. She really uses my pronouns. She makes me feel comfortable in public. If someone says, “Hello ladies,” she will say to me, “You’re my cute boyfriend.” Even in the bedroom, she’s very comforting. She will make me feel like my body is normal. I cry whenever I talk about it.

Kris: My cheesy [affirmation] is, “Grandma and Grandpa have worked so hard to get us here and they would be proud of me regardless.” My grandma has always been accepting of me as my hair got shorter and shorter. Every time I would see her at the hospital, she would be like, “You look handsome today.”

Oliver: Surrounding myself with friends who see me. They use my pronouns, they correct other people for me when I don’t have the confidence to. I’ve learned to not let the way others perceive me affect me as much as it did in high school. Moving to New York let me embrace myself.

TV: Where do you see reflections of yourself?

Evan: The first time I ever saw another trans man was when I was in high school. I was working on my school paper, and somebody did a feature on him. I was like, “Oh my god, my mind is blown.” Seeing people who are like me helped me come out over a long period of time.

Nic: I have friends who are on and off of hormones. It’s important to show the experience of living off [of hormones]. Not everybody has access to it, not everybody wants it. Some people are comfortable presenting exactly as they are. There’s less talk about it in the media. A lot of people don’t know we exist.

Oliver: I still search for a connection with someone who is both queer and Polynesian. In Sāmoa, there are the fa’afafine: assigned male at birth individuals with a third gender identity who encompass both feminine and masculine qualities. My mother, who is Sāmoan and grew up in Western Sāmoa, sees anything LGBTQ+ as a sin because she grew up with the church. In the future, I hope we can communicate about the traditions and how it connects us. Representation is important for both the trans community and our allies because support is a two way conversation.

Photo by Carter Schneider

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