Introducing Evie

In celebration of LGBTQIA+ History Month, we have been releasing some special pieces of content from our community of collaborators. Amplifying these voices and the stories of those close to us is at the core of what Reform Radio is all about. We feel very fortunate first of all, to be able to share one from our very own staff member, who’s written this eye-opening and moving account of her journey to becoming her true self as a genderfluid transfeminine woman.

Introducing Evie…

“I started cross-dressing in private when I was 11 years old. I can remember borrowing my sister’s clothing and trying it on whenever I was left at home alone, even if I only had 15 minutes before someone came back. I had more than a few close calls, and I can remember my heart racing every time I was nearly caught.

I was scared to tell anyone. So I didn’t, for around the next 6 years or so. The vast majority of my teenage years were spent hiding this shameful part of myself from everyone else, for fear of being judged and rejected. While behind closed doors I envied the girls who got to wear skirts and tights as part of their school uniform, in public I was always very quiet, shy even, and treated as another one of the guys.

Every once in a while a safe opportunity to engage in something feminine would come up, and I’d leap at it, usually feigning that it was “just for a joke”. I remember an occasion when one of my classmates put bobby pins in my fringe (the height of comedy) and I was overjoyed, if only for a fleeting moment, before handing them back. I wonder sometimes how different things could be if I’d simply opened up sooner.

But I didn’t tell anyone. High school flew by, and was soon followed by college. By this point I was well into male puberty, convincing myself that I was simply curious about what being a girl would be like, and that I could be content with being a boy. Sure, I disliked that my voice broke and I couldn’t sing as well, and shaving my face was a nightmare, but that didn’t mean that I was a girl deep down.

I carried on, un-willing to tell anyone, constantly fearful that they’d discover that I was a freak, a weirdo, a pervert… I know now that I’m none of those things. But when you spend so long hiding a huge part of yourself from everyone, you begin to doubt that anyone could ever accept it.

And then one of my two best friends died. It was sudden, and without explanation.

Confronted with the death of my friend and to an extent, my own mortality, I decided that I had to come out to someone. Suppressing my feelings wasn’t going to work any longer. I started with two of my closest cousins, who were a similar age to me, trustworthy, and thankfully accepting when I told them. The sense of relief that came with coming clean was unreal. With their help I began to amass my own small collection of feminine clothing (hidden under my bed), tried make-up for the first time, and introduced myself to them as “Sophie” when we were able to hang out without anyone’s parents interrupting.

“I still hadn’t figured out what exactly was “wrong” with me. At the time, I thought I just enjoyed cross-dressing and there wasn’t any deeper meaning behind it. This made explaining it to my parents when I finally came out a bit more complicated. When they asked “why?” and “are you sure?” I couldn’t give an honest answer. I just hadn’t figured everything out for myself yet.

They mostly left me to my own devices, requesting that I only cross-dress in private, fearing for my safety if I ever dressed femme in public. My mum never really told me her opinions and thoughts on the matter of my gender, probably because she was suffering with cancer at the time. She passed away just 8 months after I came out. She never discussed it with my dad either, so I can only hope that she’d be supportive of where I am now.

After college, and my mum passing away, I went off to university in Manchester, living in dorms and studying Computer Science. I made a few friends in my halls, but when a couple of them saw a pair of heels at the end of my bed and I explained that they were in fact mine, they didn’t seem keen on sitting with me during mealtimes any more.

Still, I steadily grew in confidence (and my wardrobe grew in size too) until I decided, that was it. I’m going to be a woman from now on. Which lasted all of a week before I realised that I didn’t feel that way all of the time. I did look into receiving treatment under the NHS during that week, but with the long waiting times and the countless hoops that you have to jump through just for a referral to a gender clinic, I left that on the back burner while I attempted to focus on my studies.

“Long story short, I failed the first year of university twice since my mum had passed away just before I started, I was struggling to get a grip on what my gender even was, and I in general did not keep very good care of myself. I don’t regret going to uni though, since I somehow managed to break into a fantastic group of friends, that I still regularly hang out with to this day. I was also a member of the LGBT society, which helped me realise that I wasn’t the only queer person out there and gave me a safe haven to truly express myself.

With uni failed, I returned to living with my dad, and returned to rarely dressing how I’d like to in front of him. Dad jokes are all well and good until they make you feel uncomfortable, or come across as dismissive of your feelings. I also got a call centre job, where I tried being open about my gender (at this time I think I’d settled on identifying as genderfluid) but had colleagues gossip about me behind my back. It was also boring, depressing, and demeaning, so I quit after 10 months, and moved out of my dad’s house, and in with my uni friends.

This story has been more than a bit bumpy so far, but I promise we’re nearly caught up to the present day. I’ll skip over the 18 months of unemployment, depression and general lack of self-worth to November of 2019. This is where Reform finally comes into play.

During my time at uni, I started a podcast called The Moncast in my spare time, and had actually developed quite a bit of interest in pursuing creative media as a potential career. I had no idea how to go about it though. I don’t know how I ended up receiving an email informing me of Reform’s upcoming “creative digital media” course, but I jumped at it. It was better than the never-ending grind of job searching that Universal Credit asks of you by a long shot.

From the offset, I was very clear about preferring they/them pronouns, even dressing femininely on the odd occasion. There was no doubt in my mind that Reform provided a safe and accepting space where I could be myself without fear of rejection or harassment, or whatever else I could imagine. Going into the studio was always an exciting and engaging experience, and I soon set my sights on becoming employed by them through any means necessary.

After 6 months of taking part in as many courses as I could, involving everything from working on a science-focused radio show in London, to creative writing, to voice-acting, and more, I finally landed a funded opportunity as a Studio Assistant in May of 2020. This was 2 months into national lockdown, so it was remote-working, but still, I’d done it.

Since then things have only got better. My self-confidence has grown dramatically, especially professionally. I have much more faith in myself and my own initiative than I ever did working in a call centre selling mobile devices. I can actually hold up my end of a conversation with people I don’t already know, and best of all, not once have I ever felt the need to hide aspects of myself to make the work day bearable.

“As far as my gender though, I’ve made huge strides since becoming employed and being trapped in a room mostly by myself throughout the COVID pandemic. If you want to get to know yourself, having lots of alone time is a sure-fire way to do it.

I came to realise that my gender was floating around the “woman’s” end of the spectrum most of the time. It still shifted around a lot, but more often than not, I was finding my body uncomfortable to live in. I didn’t feel that the way I felt internally was ever really reflected on the outside. And so on the 7th July 2020, thanks to being employed and having money to spare, I went through a private service to begin on feminising hormone treatment.

6 months on, I’m really starting to see and feel the effects, and it’s genuinely amazing to finally feel like my body is becoming my own. It used to feel like a prison, trapped in a constant sense of discomfort, but now I see it more as a chrysalis.

It’s going to keep developing over time, and eventually, I’ll be happy to finally break out of my shell and be my true self in front of everyone, all of the time.

For now though, especially with lockdown, I’m still taking baby steps. It’s hard to transition in any meaningful way socially thanks to never being able to leave the house, after all. It’s been one of the hardest parts of transition in lockdown, accepting that when I do eventually start going outside again it may be a lot harder to get used to than it ordinarily would be. There’s no smooth curve of appearing slightly more feminine over time and getting used to the range of reactions my appearance may elicit from people. When I go out, I’m gonna look vastly different than I used to, and I’m gonna have to get used to some weird looks.

But at least here at Reform, I know I’ve got everyone on my side. When I recently made the switch to she/her pronouns and asked to be referred to as Evie, no-one batted an eyelid, and my work email was updated within a day. I’m still figuring out who exactly I am, who I want to be, and how to line those things up properly, but I’m grateful to have such a supportive work family behind me while I’m on this journey.

I cannot wait to introduce everyone to Evie, the authentic me, in person.