My 7th “Manniversary”

On November 7th, 2018, I had my first testosterone (“T”) shot. This November marked my seventh year on T. I had only come out as transgender about four months prior to this. Everything changed so quickly. 

It was late July of 2018. I was 19 years old. I was working at Spencer View Family Housing, an apartment complex run by the University of Oregon as a landscaper. This was the first job I had ever had that I truly loved. I got to be outside all day, every day, listening to music and podcasts while working amongst the plants, animals, and insects. I worked pretty much alone all day long. To my introverted self, this was pure bliss. 

My first girlfriend and I had recently broken up. Being that this was my first same-sex relationship, one that progressed quickly and intensely, I had a lot of, for lack of a better phrase, “big feelings.” During this relationship, I had to completely re-evaluate who I was, what I was into, my positionality in relationships, and much more. Now that we were broken up, with her studying abroad on the other side of the world, and me working eight hours a day at a job I loved, completely alone with my thoughts- this actually worked out well for me.

I decided one day to delve into the world of queer-run podcasts. I thought this was appropriate given that I had only fairly recently come out as almost exclusively being attracted to women, as a woman. But was I a woman at the time? Was I ever a woman to begin with? As I found out that day… no. I was not. I wasn’t ever a woman. 

This thought had never even occurred to me up until this point. But how did I come to this conclusion? It was a queer-run podcast that revealed this fact to me. This podcast, the name of which I cannot for the life of me remember, was run by two lesbians, and in this particular episode, they had a transgender man as a guest. This man told his story. And his story was alarmingly similar to mine. He had always known he was different from his female friends. He had an intense aversion to anything that would make him seem feminine. His mind and his body were never in sync. Overall, he was unknowingly miserable, and constantly uncomfortable. And perhaps most importantly, he thought that all women felt this way.

For my entire life up until that point, I always knew I was different from the other girls. I had an intense aversion to the color pink, as I thought it was too girly (pink is actually one of my favorite colors now). I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve worn a dress and heels. I desperately wanted a beard. I remember in kindergarten asking my mom if I could have a buzzcut. She said that I could under one condition: I had to wear earrings so people wouldn’t think I was a boy. I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to be mistaken as a boy. I told her this, and she said that the offer still stood. I had to wear earrings if I had a buzzcut. I was livid. I hated having breasts, and I hated having my breasts touched by significant others. I hated how curvy I was. I hated the sound of my voice. I hated that when I went to get a hair cut I always ended up with an overly feminine pixie cut. As a young child, I once told an adult cousin of mine that I was a boy. (I don’t remember this) I thought that all girls and women felt this way.

A lot of these things sound rather superficial, but these physical traits that I hated so much stood for more deep issues. I was deeply uncomfortable all of the time. A product of being in this much discomfort resulted in me being insecure, annoying, and angry all the time. I have so much appreciation and love for my friends and family who stuck with me throughout my pre-transition years, because my God, I was a nightmare to be around! 

Bringing things back to the podcast, it ended, and it hit me like a freight train: I was exactly like that man on the podcast. Everything clicked so immediately for me. I had answers. I had even more questions, but at least I had an answer to why I was so damn miserable all the time. In that exact moment, I realized that I was a man, and always had been, and that I needed to get on hormones ASAP. 

With that clarity came great fear, and as stated earlier, many questions. What was I going to look like? What was I going to sound like? Was I going to be attractive? What was my name going to be? How were my friends and family going to react? What bathroom should I use? Would I ever be safe in a public bathroom? Or in a locker room? How does one dress a male body? How do you shave your face? Am I going to have back hair? (Unfortunately, yes) What is T going to do to my “downstairs?” Would anyone ever be attracted to me again? Will the T shots hurt? How the hell does bottom growth work? These are only a fraction of the harrowing questions I had.

That very afternoon, I made an appointment with my therapist. Luckily she had a next day appointment. And despite never mentioning anything regarding gender prior to this, I made such a strong case for myself actually being a man, that she immediately wrote me a letter of support so I could start taking hormones. 

My first T shot was at the University of Oregon student health center, under Dr. Allison. Leading up to that first shot, I publicly came out to friends and family, and though I largely got very good reactions, it was still terrifying every single time I had to correct someone on my new name and pronouns. I actually first started using they/them pronouns. I considered myself to be non-binary at that time. It wasn’t until I started working in healthcare with dementia residents that I started using he/him. I figured it would be easier for the 90 year old grandmas and grandpas to just use binary male pronouns rather than trying to explain they/them pronouns 50 times per day. My coworkers also used he/him pronouns for me. Over time, he/him just started feeling better. I felt that he/him just overall described me and my situation better than they/them. So starting around February of 2019, I made the switch to using he/him. 

In January of 2019, I legally changed my name to Ryan David Younker, and also legally changed my gender. My driver’s license, social security card, passport, and birth certificate all reflect this. The process of legally changing my name was fairly straightforward. I filled out a LOT of paperwork, and showed up to open court in downtown Eugene at 7:00am. I talked with a judge, and he signed my paperwork. It actually took three days to get things officially changed because the judge was not entirely convinced that I was trans. I provided my letter of support from my therapist and my testosterone prescription, and luckily on the third day, he signed my papers. He even waived one of the court fees. I believe the grand total came out to around $120. I was now legally Ryan David Younker, male.

The next step in my transition was getting top surgery and a hysterectomy. In Oregon, it takes for fucking ever to get any type of surgery. From the day I called OHSU to set up a consult, it was a little over a year until my surgery date. I remember the day of my surgery that it felt like I was in a dream. I had conceptualized this day for so long, and could barely believe that it was finally time. When I woke up, I ran my hands over the six foot ace bandage that bound my chest for the first time. I saw the two drains protruding from under the bandage, and that made things real. Three days post-op, I was supposed to get the dressings and drains removed. Unfortunately, I was still draining too much to get them removed (I actually removed the drains myself at home a couple of days later), but either way, I was seeing my new, bare chest for the first time. I was feeling a combination of horror and ecstasy. The feeling of horror was simply for the reason that I looked like Frankenstein and thought my nipples were going to fall off, and since the ace bandage was removed, I actually saw the drain tubes going into my chest. Through working in healthcare, I’ve developed a pretty strong stomach, though this was a bit much. And the bruising was quite shocking as well. 

But the horror I initially felt was soon replaced by pure, unadulterated joy at seeing my new body. Granted, my breasts were not that big to begin with- the last bra I ever bought was a 32C. However, being able to look at myself without breasts was simply otherworldly. At that point, I felt almost complete.

The next step for me was getting a hysterectomy. I think most transmasc people on testosterone can identify with the fear of getting a random period after months or years without one, and I was no different. My periods, pre-transition, were simply awful. My periods were seven straight days of heavy bleeding. I used to wear a super tampon and a pad at the same time, usually changing them at least 4-5 times per day at school. I actually wanted to get a hysterectomy before even realizing I was trans. And now I had an even better reason to get this procedure. The big question people- especially my surgeon, asked me was “But what if you suddenly decide you want kids?” This will not happen. It’s not. Ever. I have never wanted to be a parent. I have never wanted to give birth or be pregnant. And in my opinion, there are too many people on this earth, and there are certainly too many children already in existence that do not have homes. And I absolutely will not be contributing to these issues. I have no desire to pass down my family name, and definitely do not want to pass down my shitty mental health genes to the next generation. Oh, and also, I find kids to be incredibly annoying and generally dislikeable. I’m not sorry about it. 

After answering the “are you sure you don’t want kids?” question about a thousand times, I finally got my hysterectomy in early spring of 2021 (I think?). It was the easiest medical procedure I’ve ever gone through. I’ve had periods that were worse than the recovery of that surgery. And I have never once regretted it. 

Fast way forward to now, and despite my many mental health issues unrelated to gender, I’ve never been happier. I love my family and friends, and my family and friends love me. I have three fur children, Piper (cat, 8), Timon (cat, 7), and Pixie (dog, 14) that I absolutely adore. I have two college degrees, a career in academia and my own place. I have the most patience that I’ve ever had. I am no longer angry. I am finally at peace. And with that, I celebrate my 7th “Manniversary.”