Years ago on what I’d call a pretty average day, hiding became just a bit too unbearable for my taste. I’d been meticulously planning my big debut for what felt like centuries and, that day, I finally had enough of people thinking they knew who I was when, in actual fact, they didn’t know me at all. It’s funny how the need to come out felt like it was burning me from how desperate it made me feel and at the same time it was my greatest fear. After my evening chores, I finally got the courage up to say the four little words that would go on to change my life: “We need to talk.” My heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of my chest and my palms were beyond sweaty. I was trembling like a leaf from the fear and I felt so sick that I really thought I might hurl. “What is it baby girl?” my dad asked nonchalantly, he didn’t even look up from his book. I felt a pang in my chest.

“Daddy it’s something serious,” I said, frustrated by his lack of concern.

“I’m all ears,” he said, shifting to face me.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself. “OK,” I shook out my hands like I was trying to rid myself of fear, “I’m trans, I’m a boy.” Terror rose in my throat -- or was it vomit? -- but I’d already gotten the ball rolling and I felt like if I kept talking he couldn’t say anything I didn’t want to hear, “I’m still the same person, I still have the same personality, you know, like, I haven’t changed. I just know myself better and I know that I’m a guy. I’ve known since before I started high school*. You don’t have to say anything, or maybe you should, but--”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not what?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

“God doesn’t make mistakes, Louise, you’re not a boy. You’re a girl. You can’t change your biology,” he said as if the evil voice in my head hadn’t said that to me a thousand times.

“My name is Toulouse, Dad, and I know it’s new and weird, but it’s me.” It wasn’t new and weird, but I was trying to make it easier to digest. “This isn’t a choice; it’s who I am.”

“You’re fourteen. You don’t know anything about who you are.” He began to raise his voice, “Have you told anyone else this?”

“No, I--”

“Good, keep this under wraps until we can figure this out. It’s just a phase so it’ll pass. Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone spreading rumours that I have some confused lesbian daughter who wants to be a boy. That’s the last thing either of us need.”

Anger management was never my forte, but I didn’t want to get myself into more trouble than it seemed I was already in. At the same time, I wanted to yell and curse and fight, but I’m not a toddler. There had to be something I could do with the energy that my pent up frustration, anger, and disappointment gave me. “I’m going for a run,” I declared.

“You can’t go for a run. Do you see what time it is?” he yelled, but it was too late because I was already out the door. The humid evening air clung to my body, forming an unpleasant pocket of wet heat that stuck to me as I ran.

Never before in the life of me had I willingly gone for a run, but I had to do something to expel my jitters. Running as fast as my legs could carry me, I fell a number of times, each more graceless than the last. Every time I made an impact on the rough asphalt, ruthlessly scraping the fragile skin from my hands and knees, I got up like it was nothing. For some reason, the sting of the abrasions was comforting, like the pain kept me grounded. I had no idea where I was going or what my plan was, but I felt the adrenaline wearing off and I knew I had to make a decision. Going home felt like admitting defeat, so that was out of the question. I thought for a while, Where can I go? I wondered. “I’ll go to Alex’s house,” I said aloud to no one but myself.

Alex lived nearby, less than half-an-hour on foot, and we had sleepovers all the time, so it wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. However, I took the precaution of first texting her so she wouldn’t freak out and then climbing rather unceremoniously through her bedroom window. Footsteps ascended the stairs outside Alex’s room door and I feared that it was her mum, but the door opened to reveal her. She waved the phone, “What’s this about?” I wasn’t ready to come out to her, not after what happened with my dad, so I lied and told her that he’d been drinking and it was upsetting so I came to crash here to clear my head. She understood, but she was still concerned, though she tried not to show it. She’s been my best friend for what feels like a thousand lifetimes and we often say that we’re platonic soulmates, bound tightly by the strings of fate, which makes it all the more difficult to come out to her. Losing her would be like losing the blood in my veins and the breath in my lungs. I would be devastated. I don’t even know what she thinks of people like me because it’s never come up. And yet, I have never wanted to share a secret this badly before.

Later, Alex brought some food up to her room for me, “This goes against everything I believe in,” she said, referring to bringing food in her bedroom.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, laughing, “I just don’t want to worry your parents.”

She nodded, “So what do you want to do?”

I shrugged, “I dunno. Watch a movie or something?”

She shrugged right back, “But what?”

The battle of the shrugs was on, “What do you feel like watching?” I pulled out the alternating shoulder shrug.

She shrugged with her palms facing the ceiling, a classic move, “I dunno, something easy?”

Now a double pump shrug, “I dunno, a comedy?”

She did a double pump alternating shoulder shrug, beating me before I even had the chance to think, “Something old? Something new?”

I shrugged my defeat, “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure?”

“YES!” she laughed, “KEANU REEVES!”

Thus the shrug-a-thon ended and we settled in her bed to watch our ultimate comfort movie, “I’m Bill,” she said, as she always does.

“I’m Ted,” I responded, as I always do, and I felt OK for the first time since that evening. I could have stayed there forever.