Abroad in Ireland as a Transgender Student: A Journey of Self-Love
The week before I traveled abroad, I pored over my packing list, staring at the crumpled piece of paper until my eyes hurt. I was certain I would forget something crucial, that I would be the only one without it. Medication to last me through December?鈥疌heck, I reassured myself for the hundredth time. Wool socks? Yes. Noise-canceling headphones? Yes.
The night before I left, I slipped my binder into my suitcase, among my extra socks. I hadn鈥檛 yet decided whether I鈥檇 wear it regularly. On the one hand, it offered comfort: a flat chest offered respite from body dysphoria, at least. On the other, being transgender is exhausting enough at home. Here in the States, I have the words to tell my story, even if people aren鈥檛 understanding. I had no idea what I鈥檇 find in Ireland.
Oh, I did the research. I knew that despite its conservative, predominantly Catholic populace, Ireland was the first country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage. I know my host university,鈥疦UI Galway, has a lively LGBT+ society. But often I have found, as someone who exists between boundaries, whose identity is not always clear-cut, the welcome I find in these 鈥渁ccepting鈥 spaces is conditional. If I鈥檓 too complicated, or I don鈥檛 pass, or I鈥檓 too vocal, I don鈥檛 belong. It鈥檚 tricky, but it鈥檚 life.
Coming to Galway, I knew I wanted to be out, but I didn鈥檛 know what form that would take. I鈥檇 been dreaming of being out and unapologetic, correcting people on my name and pronouns, and requesting non-gendered language from the start. But I was too worried about being lonely. The first time 鈥渟he鈥 passed someone鈥檚 lips in reference to me, I shrugged, resigned. I was too tired to fight this battle today, and compensated by coding myself gay, with my hair shaved short: butch flannels, beanies, men鈥檚 jeans, and more-than-occasional references to LGBT+ organizations at home.
Feeling doubts and making excuses
When you鈥檝e got an invisible identity鈥攊n gender, but also sexuality, ethnicity, disability, etc.鈥 you learn to navigate many spaces, because you must. In Ireland, I followed suit, willing to keep my transgender identity under wraps as long as I was perceived as ambiguously LGBTQ. It was basic hospitality, after all, I told myself: I was a guest in strangers鈥 homes. Why inconvenience them with all this complexity?
Every time I considered coming out, I had a different internalized excuse. Being trans was too political. It was too complicated. I was oversensitive, asking people to change their language. The doubts in my mind echoed sentiments I鈥檇 heard from so many people in the United States, so I kept silent.
For all the time and tears I put into coming out at home, my arrival in Galway had me back at square one. I wasn鈥檛 trying to hide, really. I wouldn鈥檛 have denied it if someone asked me if I was transgender, but I was too tired to explain who I was every time I met someone.
The day of NUIG鈥檚 involvement fair, I made a beeline for the Gay in Galway Society (GiG) table, garlanded with pride flags. I can鈥檛 exactly remember what I said as I signed up, but it was something like 鈥淚 need to be around other trans people like I need to breathe.鈥 At the first meet and greet, when someone asked me my pronouns, I think I cried a bit. It鈥檚 hard to realize how stuffy a room is, until someone opens the window and offers you fresh air.
Asserting my identity
It was then I realized I couldn鈥檛 stay silent for the next four months. And so I began to chip away at the restrictions, piece by piece, difficult as it was. I am lucky to have supportive friends at home, a solid community to rely on. Their encouragement made the long process of asserting my identity less anxiety-inducing.
After a month in Ireland, I came out to my fellow鈥疘FSA-Butler鈥痵tudents and even a few international friends. I know they aren鈥檛 perfect with the language they use, and that they may not see me the way that I see myself. But I come out for me, more than for anyone else, and whatever follows is worth it when I can be true to who I am. My gender identity is as much a part of my life as wearing glasses or being left handed. In the same vein, I can鈥檛 pare it away from the rest of myself, for the sake of convenience, acceptance, or anything else.
Studying abroad, they say, is life changing. It offers a glimpse into other ways of life and other parts of the world, and a means of transfiguring your self. My trans, non-binary, and gender non-conforming siblings and I do this every day, navigating and adapting to a world that doesn鈥檛 always see us as we are or respect our stories. Given our already unique relationship to identity, the changes that come with being abroad carry special power.
It鈥檚 an experience to embrace. It鈥檚 not always easy, but in the end, re-becoming myself never felt better.
Sketch M. | University of Redlands | IFSA University of Galway Partnership | Fall 2017 | IFSA International Correspondent