Gender Dysphoria is a heated topic lately, but I’ve been living this “hot topic” since I was quite young. My name is Juliet Evancho — but I was born Jacob.

Born and raised in Pittsburgh, for as long as I can remember I’ve always been into what would be classified as ‘girly’ things. I played dress up with my sister Jackie, loved Barbies, and occasionally we’d raid my mom’s makeup kits together. My parents noticed that I had zero interest in the typical “boy” toys and activities and began to question things. I can even remember getting very upset one Christmas when Jackie got a Barbie dollhouse and I got a remote-controlled truck. I can remember talking to my mom about my feelings. I told her I don’t think I’m gay — there's more to it than that. I feel like I really am a girl. At the time, I had never heard of the word "transgender." My mom pointed out the term and I began researching it. This led to a conversation with my doctor, as we wondered if this was normal behavior. My parents and I discussed it with him and he told us, “He isn’t insisting you call him Mary, so I don’t think he's transgender. He'll probably grow out of it.”

After this non-diagnosis, our family continued on with our lives, and I continued to suppress those feelings. I played little league baseball and joined cub scouts, but deep down I knew I wasn’t just experimenting or exploring my feminine side. By the time I was 11, I took those internal thoughts and verbalized them to myself as I looked in the mirror. I said, “I am a girl trapped in a boy’s body.”

Around this same time, my sister Jackie made her debut on America’s Got Talent, and became an overnight star. I began to worry because not only did I feel “different," but Jackie’s newfound fame put our entire family under a microscope. This made things even more difficult for me. Now, I not only worried about what my family thought of me, but I also worried about some trashy magazine trying to make a spectacle out of me if they found out, and it hurting my family. Personally, however, I saw this self-discovery as positive thing, whether it fit the norm or not.

After a year, I decided to make a change and stated growing out my hair. My sister meanwhile, was busy recording her second album, Songs from the Silver Screen.

Because I too enjoyed singing — and am pretty good — I was asked to record a duet with her. The track was "I See the Light" from the movie Tangled. I obviously sang the male part, which in my eyes was a huge step backwards.

Everyone who listened to that song heard a boy, but I knew I was a girl.

The turning point for me was when we recorded a PBS television special to accompany the album. My hair growing efforts had left my mane in a rather awkward phase, and the makeup artist decided to give me a trim. Did I look like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo? Yes. But was that the best representation of who I really was? Yes.

I did my best not to cry.

After that show aired I slowly started to tell the people closest to me about my suspected gender-dysphoria. My mom was the first person I told, although she already suspected it. She simply smiled at me, told me she loved me, and said she’d always be there for me. I then told my sister Jackie. She too was not at all surprised and was very supportive and happy that I found my true self, but at the same time she was terrified about the potential ridicule I’d face for the rest of my life. Finally, I told my dad. My dad took it the hardest, and I couldn’t blame him, even if it hurt me a lot. He tried to hide it, but I could tell. He was, after all, losing his oldest son. Not just his, but the son that had his name as a middle name. My youngest siblings Zach and Rachel were a little too young to fully understand, but I told them, too. Not even my best friends knew the real me. Everyone just assumed I was a feminine gay boy.