My name is Jess and I’m a transgender woman. I was born male but I’ve felt my entire life that I should be female. It took me a long time to understand and even longer to accept. I tried to make these feelings go away and find ways to deal with them without having to transition, but that’s not how it works. There’s strong evidence that gender identity is biologically based and can’t be changed with therapy or other methods. Since I was 14 I’ve had pretty bad depression and anxiety due to this that I hid really well. Up until last year, the only reason that I hadn’t killed myself was because you aren’t allowed to in Judaism. Last year, I stopped fighting myself and started going to a therapist that specializes in gender issues. I began physically transitioning in January and already am doing better now than I ever have been before. I still have a long way to go, but for the first time in my life I’m actually on the right path for myself.

I’m not making a blog to become a famous blogger or advocate. I wish I could sit down and have a two-hour conversation with every friend and family member, but I can’t. Instead, I’m putting this online for friends, family, and people in my community to read. I would also like to be a source of information for Jewish transgender people and their families. As a warning, this blog post takes up seven and a half pages on a word document. If you don’t want to read it, these two paragraphs were a short summary of my story.

Those who know me well know that I like to define important terminology before making my points. (Only six terms so don’t be intimidated!)

Sex Assigned at birth (‘Biological Sex’) The physical or physiological differences between male, female, and intersex bodies. This includes primary sex characteristics (the reproductive system) and secondary sex characteristics (breasts, facial hair, etc…).

Gender- The range of characteristics pertaining to masculinity and femininity. These include many things such as sex, gender identity, gender expression, and more.

Gender Identity- One’s personal understanding and experience of one’s own gender. Research shows that this is biological in origin and can’t be changed.

Gender Expression- How people express their gender. This can be through how people dress, act, and many more things.

Transgender- An umbrella term for anyone whose gender identity is different than the gender “normally” associated with their sex assigned at birth.

Gender Dysphoria- a psychological disorder characterized by a marked incongruence between one’s gender identity, and one’s assigned sex at birth. There are many symptoms of it, but two very significant symptoms are depression and anxiety. Transitioning is the only treatment for gender dysphoria with evidence that it works. What this entails depends on the person, but it generally involves counseling and taking steps to change one’s sex to align with the sex associated with one’s gender identity.

Those who take steps to physically change their sex are called transsexual people. I consider myself to be transsexual as well as transgender. For me, part of feeling like I’m the right gender involves aligning my biological sex with my gender identity.

Why do I feel this way? I can’t really explain why. But what I can do is talk about my lived experience and hope that helps people understand.

My first memory of this was when I was 3 years old. That was when I learned that I was different from my older sisters. It didn’t make sense to me. I just thought we were the same. Now you might say, “Ok Jess, but lots of children don’t know about gender differences when they’re young and this doesn’t mean that they’re transgender. They learn about gender and overtime become ok with it.”

True. But what happens if initially, the child isn’t ok with the gender assigned to them at birth, and then this persists continuously through their life?

For me, that’s exactly what happened.

I thought that I was a more feminine kid than normal, but I tried not to show this to others. Why did I try to hide these things about me? Well, I knew from a young age that it wasn’t “ok” for boys to be like that. I saw other boys get made fun of for doing things that were “girly.” I didn’t want that to happen to me.

I preferred to play with girls, but I liked to play with both genders. From age 4-7 one of my closest friends was a girl who I grew up with at day care. Sometimes we’d play “girly” games, but often I would purposely make girls play “boy” games so that I could play with them without it looking like I was doing anything girly.

Anytime someone deemed a behavior of mine to be feminine I would get embarrassed and train myself to do things in a more masculine way. One example was in kindergarten. Pink was my favorite color, because it was the girliest color I could think of in my little gender-stereotype filled head. When I wrote that in our yearbook, my friends and sisters told me it was girly to do that. After that, I stopped saying pink was my favorite color.

To clarify, I didn’t want to be a girl so that I could do “girly” things. Boys can wear makeup, girls’ clothing, and do stereotypically feminine activities and it doesn’t mean that they’re girls. I wanted to do “girly” things because I was a girl, too.

And while this seems to be focused only on stereotypes and materialistic things, such as clothes or makeup, it’s also a lot about my physical self. I don’t want my penis. I always wished I had a vagina. I didn’t think that that was possible though, because I was just a child.

From age 5 to 8 I would pray to God every night before bed that he would turn me into a girl.

Then, when I was in second grade I learned what transgender was. I was in the doctor’s office waiting room and a news documentary on two transgender women came on. “Wow, that’s possible? I wish I could do that.” I thought to myself, “But they’re adults. I’m just a kid.” I had no idea how that would work with my life. How would it affect my family? Is it even possible for me? Would I have to wait until I was older to do it?

I knew from previous comments by my parents’ that despite some feminine tendencies, I could act like a stereotypical boy. I figured that it would be safer and more realistic to live as a boy than as a transgender girl.

I decided to keep this a secret for what I thought would be for the rest of my life. If a sister or friend asked if they could paint my nails, or put makeup on me, I would adamantly refuse. And if they somehow convinced me to let them, I would pretend that I hated it. All the while, the girl inside me was screaming, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? SAY YES! YES YES YES YES!”

There are some who say that a large percentage of children with gender dysphoria will grow out of it as they go through puberty. Regardless of whether that’s true or not, my dysphoria didn’t “desist.” Once I started going through puberty, everything became worse. This was the beginning of my clinically significant gender dysphoria.

Puberty is already confusing and difficult enough for a regular person. Now imagine being transgender and going through puberty. Your body starts to change in ways that you feel it shouldn’t. You see girls’ bodies changing during puberty and you think to yourself, “That’s how I should be changing too.” This inexplicable longing doesn’t go away with time. It stays there.

In addition to physically, puberty affected me socially. Being a little boy was easy. Being hyper was fun a lot of the time. I would run around, play in dirt, and nobody would care because I was a young boy. When adults noticed that I did do some things that were girly, people would say, “whatever, he’s just a kid. He’ll stop when he gets older.”

But now, as an adolescent, things were different. I’m not sure why exactly, but being a teenage guy didn’t click. At the same time, no matter how much I wished I could be a girl, the reality was that I was socialized as a male; and to other people, I was clearly a boy. I was always an odd kid to my friends, but I became weirder, and more awkward than I was before.

I remember a poster in my elementary school cafeteria that said, “Your character is what you do when nobody else is looking. When I saw it for the first time I thought to myself, “Well what does that mean for me? When I’m alone, the first thing I want to do is be a girl.”

I started a high school in a new town, thinking that I could get a fresh start with new people. I made a few friends, but I didn’t know how to be outgoing, how to keep a conversation up, and how to be an actual human male. I was weird, very quiet, and it felt like I just sucked at life.

Meanwhile, I would spend each day constantly reminded that who I was on the outside didn’t match who I was on the inside. The way I would describe how dysphoria feels is like a cloud that follows you around everywhere you go. No matter how much you distract yourself, the cloud follows after you. Even if you can forget about it briefly, something will remind you of what’s not right and the cloud will come back.

The way I dealt with gender dysphoria evolved through different stages. The first stage was “Denial”.

I decided that I just sucked at being a guy, and that I somehow created this shallow idea that being a girl would be the solution to all my problems. “If I just became better at my current life,” I rationalized, “Then I won’t feel like this anymore..”

So I tried that. Over high school I taught myself how to be outgoing, how to talk to people, and how to be a stereotypic teenage guy. I started just by being a class clown and doing stupid things to get attention. Then, overtime, I started to make real friends without having to act out. By senior year, I had a lot of friends in school and out of school. I finally stopped “sucking” at life. I was involved in clubs, sports teams, and was accepted to all of the colleges that I applied to. On the outside, everything was great.

But inside, I still felt the same.

Next I thought that maybe this was a problem that I had with my body, and I could fix it by working out. I’m only 5’4 and was always a short and skinny kid. I wasn’t athletic, I walked awkwardly, and was a clumsy person overall. “If I could just have a better guy’s body,” I reasoned, “I would be fine.”

So during my year studying in yeshiva in Israel before college, I went to the gym religiously. Within just a few months, I had muscles and 6-pack abs. Friends would talk about how I built a 6-pack so easily. Girls were impressed with my body. Working out was a small boost to my self-confidence, but it didn’t solve the real problems that I had. The cloud continued to follow me around. The only difference was that my body became another mask to use to hide my inner turmoil.

My year in Israel was great for many reasons besides for that I got to exercise. I had all the time in the world to be alone with my own thoughts. This was when I finally accepted that these feelings wouldn’t go away if I just became better at my current life.

Despite this self-acceptance, I decided that I would never transition for 3 main reasons.

The first reason was family. I imagined how this would affect my family. How could I do this to them? Also I didn’t want my transition to affect how others treated them. I didn’t want to make my family “that family with the transkid.” I couldn’t imagine how things would be at family events with cousins, Passover, and even just with my immediate family.

I was scared. I don’t want to be transgender; I feel like I should’ve been born female. I was scared of the transition process, scared of how people would treat me, and scared if I could ever get a job as a transwoman.

In Orthodox Judaism, transitioning from one gender to the other isn’t allowed.

I became extremely nihilistic about life. Since puberty, I hated life and thought that it truly has no purpose besides for Judaism. I couldn’t kill myself because it’s forbidden in Judaism. I would have to continue on living, whether I wanted to or not.

But living without transitioning messes you up inside.

I would hope for crazy things to happen to me that would turn me into a girl. I would fantasize about getting into car accidents that destroyed my penis, in the hope that it could only be surgically repaired as a vagina; and then I would be allowed to live as a girl without the social consequences.

It messes you up in terms of your relationships with others, too. Intimacy with romantic partners felt awkward and wrong in my body. Also, you can’t be in a real relationship with another person if you’re not OK with yourself inside. I wasn’t, so I was never 100% there for my past partners, emotionally or romantically.

I knew things weren’t right. But at the same time, I wasn’t going to live my life down in the dumps all day. I tried my hardest never to show any signs of these feelings, out of fear that it would lead people to finding out that I was Trans.

I resolved to try to make the best of my life and every situation as much as I could. “It shouldn’t matter that I’m the wrong gender and sex.” I would tell myself. “I have a loving family, tons of friends, and a secure financial situation. So many people have it way worse than me.” I would berate myself and call myself a spoiled, shallow brat for even thinking about transitioning.

This was the beginning of the stage I call “Dealmaking.”

For the next four years I would make deals with myself in the hopes that “If I just did “X”, it would be enough and I wouldn’t have to transition.”

The first deal was that I would use my career as an escape from real life. I knew that I liked science, medicine, and helping people. I saw how busy doctors were, how they studied 24/7 before, during, and after med school, and how it seemed like they didn’t have to deal with many aspects of “real life.”

For almost three years, I poured all of my time and mental energy into becoming a doctor. I planned to devote my life to taking care of sick people so that I wouldn’t have to deal with many of real-life’s problems, because I literally wouldn’t even have time to think about them.

However, the more doctors that I shadowed, and the further into pre-med coursework that I got, the more I realized that my escape plan wasn’t an escape at all. Doctors have to deal with real life just like everyone else.

The next deal I made with myself was about another psychological disorder that I have. I have ADHD, though I didn’t go to get formally diagnosed until my sophomore year of college. I figured that maybe my dysphoria was less manageable because of my problems with ADHD and therefore, my impulse control. My mother had previously taught me behavioral therapy techniques for ADHD. I practiced those constantly and began taking ADHD medication. Treatment for this condition helped me focus and improve my grades in school. But I still felt the same inside and managing didn’t get any easier.

I was getting older, and the dysphoria was only getting worse.

I knew it wouldn’t go away, but I had to do something to keep it in check. I decided to finally buy women’s clothing and makeup. I previously cross-dressed only a few times as a child, and a few times in high school. I would never dress in my family’s house because I was too afraid of getting caught by my parents. The few times that I did, I pretended that I did it because I liked the attention or because of a dare.

My plan was to get clothes, learn how to do makeup, and make a “feminine outlet” for myself that I could keep secret. I had no idea what I was doing of course, so I asked a few close female friends for help. When I finally dressed up as a girl, I was happy. I felt like I was really being myself.

However, just like everything else I tried to do, “dressing up” was helpful for only a very short time. Again, I was only dealing with a symptom, not the source of the symptoms.

When I had to take everything off, I felt horrible. It felt like I was ripping a part of myself away. I would do this and become even more depressed than I was before.

I would look in the mirror, still see my male face, and remember how my body wasn’t right. Instead of putting on a bra and feeling better, I would cry because I didn’t have boobs.

I was halfway through my junior year of college and totally lost inside. I wasn’t actively suicidal; but I knew that if I had to live as a male for the rest of my life, eventually it wouldn’t matter to me what Judaism said about suicide. Finally, I decided to stop running away from who I was and face myself head-on.

At the insistence of two close friends, I started seeing a therapist. Then, I started going to a therapist that specializes in gender issues. Both therapists were extremely helpful.

That summer I came out to my parents and siblings and began to plan how I would transition. I started to grow my hair out, and began laser hair removal for my facial hair. That winter break, I moved into dorms just for LGBTQ students so that I could start socially transitioning at least part-time during school. On January 12, 2016, I started taking female hormones.

Slowly, the cloud has begun to lift. It’s not gone, but it comes back a little less frequently and is a little easier to deal with.

It’s only been 5 and half months of physically transitioning, but I’m already happier and more ok mentally than I’ve ever been.

In this last year and a half since I started to plan how I would transition, I have learned so much about myself and about life in general. I have met so many amazing people and connected with friends in ways that I hadn’t been able to before.

Close friends of mine often ask, “So was everything that you did as a guy a lie?”

No, my entire past wasn’t a lie. I tried to make the best of my situation. And I did. I made some great friendships and there are memories with friends and family that I will cherish forever. To me, I’m not discarding my past. I’d like to think that I’m just getting older and finally becoming more of the person that I really am.

Yes, many things will be different about me. But many things will also stay the same. My gender is just one large part of what makes me who I am. I still like sports, superhero tv shows, and playing Pokémon. I’m still a huge nerd. I still love science and public health. Changing my gender won’t change those things.

I don’t want to be a victim. There are too many things in life I still want to accomplish and I will not let being transgender stop me from accomplishing them. Despite what I’ve been through, I still managed to graduate college with Cum Laude honors and a degree in Biology. This fall I’ll be attending a top-10 Public Health graduate program on a merit scholarship. I hope to work in public health research. (Maybe even study health disparities in transgender people!) One day, I want to get married, become a mother, and raise a Jewish family.

I’m hoping that overtime, I can show people that I’m still a “regular” person. If I do start going to shul presenting as a woman, I would dress modestly, respect shul etiquette, and try not to do anything that would call extra attention to myself.

That said, I don’t plan on attending local Orthodox synagogues for a while. I don’t want my synagogue to be used as a battleground for Trans issues in Judaism. I don’t want my family to be ostracized or treated differently because of me. My transition is hurting them enough as is.

Trying to stay observant (What exactly that entails is still difficult to determine though ) has definitely made transitioning more complicated and more stressful than it already is. But, it has also helped me in so many ways.

I still pray on my own, learn Torah, and I do believe in God. In fact, I think that my relationship with God and being part of a Jewish community have been two of my greatest assets during my transition. Transitioning is often a long, bumpy, and lonely road. At times, it can be extremely difficult to stay positive and have faith. My strong faith in God that everything will work out for the best has helped me continue to move forward many times.

People often ask if I’m angry with God for making me this way.

My answer to that is a resounding “No.”

I don’t know why things happen the way that they do, but I can’t be upset at God for that. The trials and tribulations that we must go through in life are what make us who we are. What I do know is that for the first time in my life, I’m happy with the person I am right now, and the person I will continue to become. My transition is still in its beginning stages; and there is a lot of uncertainty ahead. However, I know that when I have my family, friends, God, and am true to myself, I’ll be able to handle whatever life will throw at me.