Chapter 9

I still have the history of my old YouTube videos from when I was a young teenager, and one of the search entries that still sticks out to me is a video from Noah Finnce. It was about his voice training, how testosterone had changed it and what it did to his face and body. I wasn’t even aware at that time, but I watched so many of these; I followed his entire transition, and I was just so happy for him, not knowing why it had pulled me into such a fascination. I was moved by it to the point that I cried when they started to look more like themselves. After the videos ended, they always looked so much happier, their smile broadened, and there was a certain light that flickered in their eyes. I felt drawn to it, and I always wondered why that was. Now I know better, don’t I? It only took me twenty-something years, hallelujah. Never at that age would I have admitted to myself that I wanted my voice to sound like that. I wanted myself to look like that. Or rather, I wish that I were him
Even now, I try to lower my voice so it does not sound as feminine. I make it come right from my chest and only then does it feel a little better for me, just so that I can hear the hollow rumbling within the depths of my throat
A while ago, I discovered that there are actually some rather good voice coaches for people who aren’t on testosterone yet and, while I do have some people, I still pitch my voice to them when I’m around them. Fortunately enough for me, there are additionally people to whom I can talk in a lower voice, and it makes my entire muscles just relax since, for a few seconds, I just don’t have to pretend. It’s a form of euphoria and I don’t experience many of those little tidbits. I am still far from happy with my voice and… everything else but I hope that one day, I will finally get there, and that I won’t be in an elderly home by then
A close friend of mine recently started testosterone and on many occasions, I find myself watching my brother, copying the way he talks when I’m not near him, the way he sits, or the way he moves, just so I appear more androgynous. It was almost as though I was silently trying to find access to lower my voice and make it sound less forced and more natural
When I present feminine, everything feels forced. My voice is pitched; I heighten it, so people perceive me as feminine. So I can ensure that I won’t be attacked and ridiculed by them. I pop a smile, laugh gently, and do anything so that I am perceived as a woman. Then I leave the room and my entire facade drops. My throat chokes up because I want to do nothing but cry. In secret, I am hoping to finally find someone I don’t have to pretend to be someone else around. It is tiring beyond belief. I have done it for so many years and I am growing tired of it.