In the weeks leading up to Christmas of 2023, I reached out to a black lesbian who I had connected with on Instagram, to ask if she would like to be interviewed about her healing journey as a de-transitioned woman.
For 10 years, this woman had identified as a man, and made some very radical changes to her body in order to appear male. At the time we met, she was in what I soon discovered to be a very convoluted process of reclaiming her womanhood.
Our connection began purely as a collaboration, as I was only interested in getting to know her on a platonic level. However, our logistical conversations quickly took a personal turn, when she came onto me very strongly.
In a knotted twist of nervous-excitement, and in the midst of my weakened constitution, I developed feelings for this woman. Within days, she flew across the country where she enveloped me in a whirlwind romance.
Our time together was bittersweet. We shared a lot of pleasure, and a genuine connection that was tainted by the scars of her past—both physical and emotional—which she projected by shaming me for being in my natural state as a woman, amongst other judgments.
Ultimately, like all relationships, we served as mirrors for each other.
I titled this story “Loving Her Reflection” because I served as this woman’s reflection. I felt that the nature that she rejected in me, were some of my most beautiful parts that were waiting to be unearthed and witnessed within herself.
My love and acceptance of myself as a natural black woman, made her feel insecure and threatened about the ways in which she has abandoned and rejected herself. The way that she dealt with that, was by making me feel less than beautiful, and less than enough.
She recognized the value of my companionship in her life, and she was aware that she would have to cut me down a few notches to play at her level. So, she built me all the way up, and then she tore me right back down to a place that was lower than where I started.
She distracted me from her own obvious shortcomings, by amplifying the message that there was something wrong with me for existing in my natural state, and she positioned herself as knowing, doing, and being better than I.
And for a little while, I allowed it...
At the time, I was struggling with my own shadows, brought about through intergenerational trauma—which made me vulnerable to the cycle of abuse.
In hindsight, our connection makes total sense to me.
Sensing a kindred spirit in her, I thought that I had found a true companion. I came to my senses fairly quickly, and released myself from our toxic connection. However, some of the wounds she had imprinted on me, remained with me for a while longer.
Opening my heart and body to someone is a very rare and special gift. So, I always take all the time I need to heal when I am grieving a broken connection.
Writing this story was not easy. As with writing any memoir, there were times when I had to relive and meticulously process some of my most painful moments with a fine-tooth comb.
However, this is how I have also been able to reclaim my story and change my narrative. Me writing this story outlines the last leg of my journey to heal from those scars of my past.
This is me writing my own redemption.
My story accounts for how internalized misogyny can show up for women who want to become men—and particularly, how this can show up in lesbian relationships.
It also includes the realities of how black women are impacted by Eurocentric gender norms, and the importance of taking root in self love.
I have learned that “Detransition” is so clearly not the final destination to self love, for many women.
When we remove the distraction of the “trans” label, we find low self-esteem, trauma, addiction to body modification, and the belief that one must drastically change their appearance in order to feel at home within their bodies, and be well-received by society.
Detransition does not automatically make all of that go away. But it can be a powerful starting point for those who are truly ready to look in the mirror.
My story asks…
What does it mean when women internalize a very limited and unnatural view of who and what we are supposed to be?
If so many women have bought into the idea that women are made and not born, how can they ever return to a healed understanding of themselves once they recognize that trans identity and medicalization is harming them?
How can she find a home in her womanhood, when that home has been broken?
But most of all, this story is my own.
My story is deeply intimate, sensual, truthful, and raw.
It is a personal account of my own path towards healing from lifelong abuse, standing up for myself, and choosing healthy relationships.
Although I have changed a few names and identifying details, all of the events and conversations I’m sharing here are real1. As is characteristic of my writing, I did not hold anything back.
Due to the deeply erotic, sensitive, and personal content, I have decided to self-publish the entirety of this story as an e-book, and I am limiting the readership to a select group of women, just as I have done for a few of my other memoirs.
I wrote this story mostly to release it from my body. However, I am invested in sharing it with those who feel they will benefit from reading my story on a deeper level, who value my voice, and who I feel are ready to hold space for what I have to share.
If you would like to read the full version of my memoir, you can request a copy here.
Over the next few weeks, I will be releasing a series of excerpts from my memoir on my blog, in both written and audiobook formats.
The majority of these written and recorded excerpts will be exclusively available to my paid subscribers, but some parts will be available to everyone.
If you think others can benefit from reading my work, you’re more than welcome to share this Introduction, as well as links to the excerpts that I will be releasing on my blog.
I hope you enjoy. Thank you for your support. 🌺
This is a work of creative non-fiction. All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of the author's memory. Some names and identifying features have been changed to protect the identity of certain parties.