Taking place in his elementary, middle and high school years, Trent Swanson has battled with the internal and external struggle of coming out and living as a transgender boy. "Through The Window" is an autobiography about the turning points in not...
Some days it's difficult to step foot outside. My gender dysphoria will completely consume any reasonable thinking I have, and I'll waste about half an hour tugging at myself and contorting my body in the mirror in hopes of finding an acceptable view of myself that will give me a boost out into the public eye. Other days, however, I forget that I'm trans and I'll coast through the sun rays that enter the school windows, falling prey to all the warmth the world gives. When this happens, the thought of the way I look exits my mind entirely. It's incredibly therapeutic, as most days I can't go about two minutes without wondering if others can recognize that I'm different. I'll feel so tightly wound, like if I make one wrong move with my body, I won't look correct. This is the feeling that consumed me frequently in middle school before I learned how to be more confident. The days I live where I don't endlessly think of my body are the most blessed days I have. I'll feel loose and free to move as I please.
I'll make my way home and up to my room, but instead of taking off my binder as I normally do, I'll enjoy the feeling of not caring about my appearance while I have it in the palm of my hand. With a pair of headphones on my head, I begin to hear the bustling audience of a distant crowd followed by a single piano chord. The electrifying "Bennie and the Jets" starts to make its way into my ears.
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A continuous pattern of piano chords that lead the way for the bass always makes a combination that won't allow me to sit still. I give myself permission to move the hips that I regularly try to hide, and I feel comfortable enough to bounce to every other beat and let loose. The act of focusing doesn't seem to have forefront when I dance, and my body becomes a puppet of the tempo. Every arm movement, every sway of the hips, every kick of my feet is done to project what's inside to the outside world. When I dance, the most genuine version of myself comes alive. Even though I'd never dance in front of another, the fact that I'm able to do it for myself seems the most important to me. In the solitude of my room on these perfect days, I sail away to a distant world where the feeling inside me is all I need. I wish I didn't so often feel as if I'm not allowed to move freely. My mind tricks me into thinking I need to sit and walk a certain way, and show less emotion, just to pass as a real boy. Even though I know I'm real. I wish I felt as if I could show this side of me more often without societal repercussions, because the days when my mind finally lets go of all these senseless worries and burdens, I feel absolutely alive. No matter how low I get, or how isolated I feel, I always persist in living for the days when I feel as if I'm watching the world from the top of the highest mountain peak.
