From the time of this posting, it has been 4,278 days since I came out. 11 years, 8 months, 19 days.

This day forever changed my life, it was the first time I ever told anyone that I was, and still very much am, gay. I remember it clearly and it was not the most ideal setting. I was a freshmen in high school and I had been talking with a really good friend on MSN instant messenger. The conversation was silly, but it went something like this:

Me: Hey, I have something I have been meaning to tell you. Promise you won't tell anyone?

Her: What's up?

Me: I have a secret

Her: Ok, what is it?

Me: Do you know that thing, the thing that everyone always says about me?

Her: No

Me: Yes you do, everyone always talks about it

Her: I know that you're a nice guy.

Me: No, hah, everyone calls me the gay kid, and I am.

I did it, I told someone. My heart was racing. I was sitting in the basement of my parents house on a really old computer we had setup to play video games on. For one reason or another, I had not been playing the Playstation. I just came out to a girl I went to high school with, we were just freshmen. We ended the conversation and I signed off of MSN, but not before sending myself the entire chat log to my old "hotmail.com" address.

The next day at school, I was sure that everyone knew my secret. There was no way that word traveled that fast in our small little town, there is no way my best friend at the time would tell everyone. Would she?

Fast forward to one random day and I was sent home with a grade mid quarter sheet. I was getting a C- in freshmen algebra. The moment I got home I had to show my mom so she could sign it and acknowledge she saw the report. Needless to say, she was not happy at all. I was told to sit at the dining room table and begin working on my algebra homework, this grade was not acceptable. My heart began to race, my palms were sweaty and my leg was shaking. Mom was furious about my grade but she was in the kitchen making dinner while dad was outside doing some yard work. It was the fall and leaves were all over our yard, I was supposed to be doing the yard work but my algebra got me out of the manual labor. Mom came over by me, still upset over my grade, and scolding me for the grade.

It slipped, it came up like word vomit.

Me: Mom, do you know Uncle Steve?

Mom: What about him!?

Me: I'm just like him.

Mom: What do you mean?

Me: I am just like Uncle Steve... I'm gay.

Mom: -silence and long pause- You think you're gay?

Me: I am gay.

Mom: Stay here, I'm going to get your father

It was a nightmare. My mom went to get my father and the three of us sat at the dining room table and discussed what had just come out of my mouth. My mom kept saying that I thought I was gay. She didn't understand how I was gay, even though I told her that "being a guy, our outward anatomy responds and it becomes very apparent what we're attracted to." This didn't go over very well. After talking about it for what seemed like hours, I was sent to my room. I didn't eat dinner, neither did mom.

The next day, Dad drove me to school. We rode in silence, it was awkward and I was afraid for what life was going to be like from this point forward. Before I got out of the car I remember what my Dad said to me, "your mother and I love you very much, Daniel."

I walked into school and passed a group of friends. They could tell something was wrong, I was pale and had the look of shock on my face. I didn't talk to them and walked away to sit in silence in the hallway.

Days passed and I don't recall eating. I know for a fact I lost 10lbs. Finally my mom started to talk to me. She told me that I had to tell my family the news, but before I could even tell them, she had already prepped them telling them that I "thought" I was gay. My brothers didn't say much, my sister told me "It's about damn time."

Whenever I think about my coming out story, I remember it being very traumatic. I lived in a small town, I had always been harassed and bullied for being the gay kid. Looking back on the experience and knowing what I know now, life was so much better once I came out. My mom was shocked, I dropped a huge bombshell on her. In her defense, she was only worried about my well-being. Her brother Steve, who I referred to earlier, died from AIDS. My mothers fear stemmed from the experience she had with her brother, a fear of losing another loved one to a horrible disease.

As time would go on, and the shock faded away, my mom became one of my biggest supporters and one of my favorite people. Now that I'm an adult, my mom and I have a really great relationship and I'm very open with her. At the time of coming out, 15 year old Daniel would have never imaged what 26 year old Daniel knows today.

Warning: Explicit Language

Introduction & Polite Words

It began with an all-too-familiar cartoon, the Powerpuff Girls. From the moment that my developing mind could create a memory, I was smitten with the courage and bravery of Buttercup. Was it because I loved the color green and she was green? Was it because she didn’t take any shit from anyone? Or was it because she was the first introduction to what I had felt inside- masculinity in a female form? Four-year-old me didn’t care- I just knew I liked Buttercup and she was my favorite.

It grew after that. Forget Barbies, I want to play with Hot Wheels on the city map rug. I don’t want to wear a dress, I’d prefer pants, please. Why can’t I take my shirt off like those boys are doing so? I just want to play PlayStation at home. Stop braiding my hair, just cut it all off Mom.

People ask transgender people all the time; when did you know?

Fuck. It’s so cliché. I don’t know, Helen. I just felt this way, from as long as I can remember. It’s not so much a know, like I know I don’t like peanuts. It’s more of a...holy shit, I just finally found the piece of the missing puzzle that explains the whole puzzle. I finally understand the whole fucking puzzle, Karen.

I hate talking about my childhood; it just brings up sadness for me, personally. Plus, my memory is not the greatest because of repressive traits, so we’ll talk about my teenage years and what that was like.

I didn’t really understand how to express myself fully; the one thing that I felt like I could express myself fully with was my hair. As it turns out, my mom forbid me to cut my hair, for any given reason, until I was 17. Shopping for the clothing that was made for my assigned gender was comparable to pulling teeth- why aren’t there any pockets in these jeans, let alone why are they so tight? This shirt is cute but it hugs my stupid curves. I don’t care about coffee or yoga, I care about video games and comfort. I felt true bliss when I tried on the first pair of mens’ clothing- pockets, plenty of room, baggy shirts hiding my true physical form...oh my god. I love all of this.

And then, I went to gay camp...

My name is Max. I chose the name Maximiliano as my middle name because it was the runner up for my first name and because, my initials make up for the acronym that describes the act of fellatio- a sly nod to my shitposting meme attitude. The other reason I chose Maximiliano is because it means “the greatest” and was chosen by royal blood. I chose that name four years ago, when I officially came out as a transgender man. Follow along as I tell the grand tale as what being a transgender man in the year 2018, in Madison, Wisconsin, looks like.

I grew up in a religious household. Nothing too strict but we went to Church pretty often. I grew up with the thought that homosexuality is wrong and that you're not that good of a person.

As I was finishing up high school, I started to develop feelings for guys. I fought with myself as this was totally against what I grew up knowing. Eventually, I decided to go off to college away from my hometown and figure myself out. I met some great friends after my first year at this new college. I even got myself a boyfriend in the meantime. However, I was afraid to tell anyone about it. It was my secret... but I hated keeping it secret. Why should who I love be a secret to everyone else? I went to my friend's dorm at night and came out to them even though I was afraid to admit it. My friends fully supported me and told me they were happy for me and wanted to meet my boyfriend. I was relieved. A weight lifted off my shoulders. Because of this, I gained confidence enough to tell more friends through casual conversation. They've all been great support systems in my life.

Next, I came out to my parents and my younger brother. Although my brother felt a bit strange about it at first, he hasn't treated me any different for it to this day. My parents told me they were disappointed that I didn't tell anyone sooner. My extended family found out about my boyfriend and, unfortunately, they didn't take kindly to it. It does bother me that they're not supportive of this but I take comfort knowing I have friends and some other family members that have been my support system and seeing me for who I am as a whole.

I'm still with my boyfriend to this day as well, despite not everyone around us supporting our relationship. I've learned a lot about myself through these times. I've learned that I've become a strong person with a strong support system.