Changing your sex is the ultimate high-agency move

You really can just do things

No one stumbles into transition the way you might fall into a job you don’t love or a relationship that just kind of happens. You have to want this. You have to fight for it. And in the process, you learn something dangerous.

You learn that you can just do things.

They can’t make us forget that. That’s why they want to ban it.

Transition isn’t just about changing your body; it’s about changing your relationship to the world. At first, it feels impossible. You hear how people talk about transness, and you internalize it. You tell yourself it’s not for you. That you could never. That you aren’t the kind of person who gets to live that kind of life.

But then you do it anyway. You reach out for something that was never meant to be yours, and you take it. And once you’ve done that, once you’ve proven to yourself that you can, there’s no putting that knowledge back in the box. You stop waiting for permission. You stop seeing the world as a fixed thing you have to accept. You start looking at everything differently.

I used to think of myself as someone who struggled with change. I hated making appointments. I put off paperwork for weeks. I avoided anything that required me to jump through bureaucratic hoops. But transition has transformed more than my body. It has changed my capacity to act. Now, when I need to navigate a system, advocate for myself, or face uncertainty, I don’t hesitate. Because I’ve done harder things. I’ve rewritten myself from the ground up.

Once you change the most fundamental thing about how you interact with the world, nothing else feels as difficult or risky or embarrassing. And you start to see how all of life is a confidence game. Fake it till you make it is great advice. The first time you walk outside in clothes that feel right, the first time you introduce yourself with your real name, you feel the weight of the world watching you. But the world moves on. And with each step, you realize that you don’t have to wait for confidence—you build it by doing.

I thought my growth through transition would be linear, but it has been exponential. Those tentative early steps built the confidence I have today to pursue the life I want. I know now that change doesn’t happen when the world says you’re ready. It happens when you decide to take it.

And that’s dangerous. Not to us, but to them.

Because transition doesn’t just make us more comfortable in our bodies. It makes us more powerful in our lives. We become people who move, who act, who refuse to be told what is and isn’t possible. That scares them. They don’t ban transition because they care about kids or women’s sports. They ban it because they are terrified of what we become when we know we can change ourselves. Because if we can change ourselves, what else can we change?

Change is the most natural thing in the world, but people cling to the illusion that things are fixed. That’s the real fear—if we aren’t static, neither is the world around us. And if the world isn’t static, then their power isn’t static either. That’s why they lash out. That’s why they work so hard to convince us that transition is unnatural, dangerous, impossible. Because once we know that’s a lie, we start seeing through all the other ones, too.

I dragged my body over gravel and glass and burning coals to build the life I live today. If you took it all away from me tomorrow, I’d go back to crawling through that fire the next day, and the day after that, until I’m back here. Because I know now. I know that I can just do things. I don’t have to wait for the world to allow me to exist.

And I will never forget that again.

If there’s one thing I hope people take from my story, it’s this: You don’t have to wait for permission, and you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Growth isn’t about force; it’s about trust—trusting yourself enough to step forward, even when you’re uncertain. If you want a different life, you can create it with care, grace, and patience. The world reshapes itself around those who move through it with quiet determination.