This Year’s All About Authenticity

2020 will forever be the year I became a man. For some, 2020 is the year coronavirus hit. And it is that for me, too, but more importantly it was the year I became who I am: Daniel.

I haven’t always been a man. No, far from it. I was assigned female at birth. I lived a lot of my life parading around in the body of someone I was not. I never felt comfortable in my own skin. I never felt like my body belonged to me.

It was 1987 and all sorts of assumptions were made in those days, like the damaging assumption that sex equals gender and that if a baby pops out with certain genitalia that defines their gender. That assignment at birth stayed with me and destined me to be who society said a woman was. I never really fit the mold and I spent a lot of my life as a woman trying to fit in to be like other women, something I did not know how to do.

2020 was the year I stared these assumptions blatantly in the eye and challenged them. It was the year I claimed “transgender” for myself and set out to become who I’ve been, but was terrified to be.

I began my medical transition. I started taking hormones. I had top surgery. I legally transitioned, petitioning my local court to change my name. I updated 1,001 documents to reflect who I am: Daniel Luis Lyons. I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

As I look to 2021, 2020 feels hard to beat. It’s hard to top the year I became myself. Maybe it was easier to do in a pandemic, all that societal noise drowned out by a months long pandemic that raged on.

What goal could I set on my path to wellness? Maybe it’s simpler than I think: it is my intention to keep on being me. To keep living in alignment with my truth. To live more deeply as myself. To become a better man— not some toxic notion of masculinity laid out for me by a society whose definitions of masculinity seem to be broken in all honesty. (And you'd be surprised, just as many transgender men fall prey to toxic notions of masculinity as cisgendered men.)

Yes, that’s it, to continue to walk in this world as Daniel. To reap the benefits of all the blood, sweat, and tears of 2020 (coming out as trans was hard). Maybe this year I can have a little fun along the way as I ride out the waves of what some call a second puberty and all that comes with it. Maybe I can enter more writing contests, publish more poems. Hell, maybe I can get to writing that poetry chapbook I’ve been meaning to publish. Maybe I can found the startup I’ve been dreaming of. Maybe I can keep on being me.

Being me can come with a price. There were moments of 2020 that challenged my commitment to being me. My family lost their mind when I told them I wanted to have top surgery, the surgical removal of my breasts. "What if you change your mind?" "What if, what if?" They pressured me to wait. I dug in my heels and said "No." My commitment to myself remained strong. I stood up to transphobia in forms small and large by advocating for myself and staying on my path, no matter how frustrated those around me became. I want more of this in 2021.

I'm not closing the door on 2020. I am bringing hard lessons learned with me.

I face the possibility of more surgery in 2021. Surgery as a trans person is both liberating and at times, it's scary. As I face the possibility of removing my capacity to ever give birth, I am facing even deeper societal messages ingrained within me. What does it mean to relinquish my capacity to birth another being? I feel ready and yet, the weight of this decision is not lost on me.

In 2021, I will commit to walking forward with bravery and courage. To be trans is an act of bravery. I will keep on facing my fears. I will keep on honoring who I am. I did it in 2020 and I will do it again this year.

Danni boy, the sky’s the limit darling. I believe in you and I know you’re eager— making up for lost time after all those dreadful years living as someone you were not. This year's your year. Keep on keeping on.

Maybe 2021 is simply about deeper alignment of Daniel— in body, mind, and spirit. Yes, I like the sounds of that: alignment. Deeper layers of authenticity and truth about who I am. That is my wish for this year. And to the person who needs to hear it, it's my wish for you, too.