For many in the LGBT+ community, the phrase "letting the genie out of the bottle" isn’t just a metaphor; it’s a terrifying reality. When you reveal something about yourself, something so deeply hidden, it can never be undone. The moment you speak it, it’s out there. There’s no taking it back. And with that, comes the crushing fear: how will the world react? Will they look at you with disgust? Will they ridicule you, turn their backs, or see you as less than? The truth is a volatile thing, and once it's spoken, there’s no going back.
Over the years, I’ve taken calculated risks, carefully selecting who to trust with the most vulnerable parts of me. Outside of my family, I’ve shared this truth with only two people, former work colleagues who I thought I could count on as real friends. I used to think my secret was safe with them, but with one of them I wasn't so sure. There were comments, small but unmistakable, made by someone close to them, someone who wasn’t supposed to know. I couldn’t shake the feeling that my truth had slipped out when I wasn’t looking. It’s a terrifying thing, to wonder how far your secret has travelled once it’s left your lips.
There are moments when I want to just let it all spill, when I want to tell people what it’s really like to live with a side of you that you can’t share, that you can’t let anyone see. I want to talk about the highs and lows, about how my identity shapes every single moment of my life. But I don’t. I hesitate. It’s not even about my own truth any more, it’s the fear of what might happen to my family. The risk that their lives could be touched by prejudice, or worse, by hate. The thought of them being hurt because of me is what keeps me silent.
And then, there are days when I’m surrounded by the women at work, and I can feel it, a quiet longing to just open up, to let them see the feminine side of me that’s hidden away. Not just for them to see it, but to understand it. I want to explain how being different has torn me apart, how it once pushed me so far that I nearly ended it all. I want to say that my daily life is a battleground, not because I fear slipping up, but because of the relentless spikes of gender dysphoria, the way they hit without warning, reminding me how deeply my inner self clashes with the role I’m forced to play.
I want to compliment them on their perfume or admire the delicate shade of their nail polish. I want to talk about the texture of their tops or how their heels look just right, like little pieces of them that speak to me in ways words can’t. Simple, human moments of connection that I have to hold back from, because I’m worried of how they’ll respond.
Even with the women I think might understand, I can’t bring myself to let that genie out. The fear of their reaction, the weight of it, keeps me from being me. So, I stay quiet. The truth remains locked inside, where it’s both a burden and a relief. I’ve learned to live with the silence, but I feel its weight constantly. The genie may be trapped in the bottle, but it’s not gone. Its presence is with me in every unspoken word, in every careful move I make, in every glance I avoid.
One day, maybe, I’ll be able to let it out. Maybe one day, I won’t have to hide. But until then, I keep hoping, hoping that the people who matter will see me not just for the things I’ve said, but for the strength it takes to keep everything unsaid. I hope that one day, the world will listen, not with judgement, but with understanding.
Maybe, just maybe, that day will come. But until then, I keep holding on to the hope that it’s not too late.
Thanks for reading
Lotte x
This feels such a heartfelt post and one that rings a lot of bells.
ReplyDeleteI think it's that double hit of the emotional heavy lifting off masking what we say. That's quite hard. Then there's the... well, I guess a mix of fighting against your natural behaviour, and the impact of excluding yourself from certain topics of discussion.
Ah. "Our three main stations are..." etc.
I remember listening to a colleague saying she'd regretted her shoe choice, thinking she would be at her desk, not moving around the offices all day. I remember thinking I am familiar with that pain, bit you don't want to make it weird do you? Instead it was, shall we just grab a seat for a bit and pretend to check emails.
Likewise on a one to one video call during COVID, a colleague was lamenting losing her foundation on her face mask. Something I'd struggled with at Chams. Again, a careful line of empathy even though the neutral textbook is "oh, that is such a pain!"
See also conversations about safety at nighttime, badly sized clothing, boorish men, etc. That and the knife blade of being able to genuinely compliment a someone, so it doesn't land near Creepsville. That's not about clothes or hair - but just thank yous for doing things, chairing, helping out etc.
Of the two coworkers who knew, that was all gone. There was just an honesty and authenticity around any and all conversations. Not having to second guess west I was thinking of meant I had more brain power to actually focus on the task.
Lynn, Thank you so much for your thoughtful reply, it really resonates with me. You've captured so much of the experience perfectly, especially that sense of emotional heavy lifting from masking. It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Having to constantly filter your thoughts and actions, especially when you’re navigating situations where you feel you can’t fully be yourself.
DeleteI loved the way you described the challenge of excluding yourself from certain topics and how that can add another layer of complexity to just being in the room with others.
I really appreciate the way you described the shift when you had coworkers who knew. It sounds like it was such a relief to not have to second-guess yourself any more and to be able to truly engage without all the mental gymnastics. It’s like you finally got back some mental space to focus on the actual task at hand, rather than constantly worrying about how you’re being perceived.
Thank you again for sharing these reflections. It’s comforting to know I’m not alone in this experience, and hearing your thoughts helps me feel more connected to the bigger picture of navigating life with authenticity.
Thanks
Lotte x
I love the image, Lotte.
ReplyDeleteTo tell or not to tell, that is the question. As you say, once spoken, things can't be unsaid. So although most people are indifferent to or supportive of us even if they don't understand, the ones who are opposed can really harm you if they choose. Luckily you have family on your side.
I think the question is really: Would I benefit from this person knowing? We also have to consider that some people are trans allies in principle but hate it when someone they actually know happens to be trans as they have to act differently around them; and conversely, some transphobes make exceptions for trans people they happen to know personally ("That Bob, he's one of them trans whatnots, but he's OK."). We also make the mistake of imagining that women are more empathetic and love to compliment each other on their clothes, looks, accessories, etc. and encourage each other but often these remarks are actually their way of sizing up the competition. It's a minefield.
Given some bad experiences in the past, I operate only on a "need to know basis" these days with cis people. This is why I'd encourage you to start socialising with other trans people as it reduces the agonising about who might be supportive. There are bitches in the trans community too but generally you'll get more all-round support and definitely more understanding.
Sue xx
Sue, Thank you so much for your thoughtful reply.
DeleteYou’re absolutely right: once something’s said, it can’t be unsaid, and that’s such a big part of the dilemma. Deciding whether or not to share aspects of who we are with others can feel like walking a tightrope, especially when the consequences can range from supportive to harmful.
I completely agree with your point about considering whether it would actually benefit us to share something with a person. It’s not just about whether they’ll understand, it’s whether it will lead to a deeper connection or just more emotional labour. Sometimes, as you said, even well-meaning allies can feel uncomfortable once they know, and that can be hard to navigate.
On the flip side, there’s also the frustrating reality that some people who are openly transphobic might make exceptions for someone they personally know. It's a strange double standard, isn’t it?
Your insight about women’s compliments also really resonated with me. I’ve noticed that dynamic too, where what can seem like encouragement or camaraderie might actually be more about sizing up the competition. It’s tough to know when someone’s complimenting you out of genuine kindness, and when it’s more of a subtle power play. It really is a minefield at times.
I also appreciate your suggestion to focus on building connections within the trans community. That’s something I’ve been thinking about more lately, surrounding myself with people who get it, and who don’t require so much emotional energy just to be understood.
Even though there are challenges everywhere, I think the support and shared experiences in the trans community can be so grounding.
Thanks again for sharing your thoughts with me. It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone in these feelings, and that there’s wisdom in taking things one step at a time.
Lotte x
Glad you liked the image too Sue. I can tell you it took quite a few attempts to get it just right!
DeleteI know we have shared our love of Depeche Mode with each other in comments on this blog. And as such I will quote a line from a song we will both know well.
ReplyDelete"Hide what you have to hide,
And tell what you have to tell"
I always ask myself if someone in my personal life needs to know about Deeanna? Usually the answer is they don't. That doesn't mean that I hide Deeanna away, scared of discovery. I know that I'm virtually unrecognisable as Deeanna the fabulousTgirl, to anyone who knows me as 'Bob' the drab male. So I feel fine about being out in public as Deeanna. But I don't tell colleagues or friends or neighbours or acquaintances of Bob, or anyone outside of the trans community about Deeanna. And I'm very careful about which of Deeanna's trans friends know my male identity. The only people in my male life, I've told about my needs to dress and present as a woman, are my Wife my older half sister (sadly deceased), my half cousin who is a trans woman (hence why I felt safe telling her mother who is my older half sister ) and my GP surgery. I would only tell someone if it was necessary. Otherwise I keep it too myself. If I was intending to live full time, or transition as Deeanna, then obviously I would have to tell more people. But I don't, so I'm happy not to have adopted 'The Policy Of Truth'.
Dee xxx
Dee, Thank you for sharing such an honest and thought-provoking response. The Depeche Mode quote is perfect, “Hide what you have to hide, and tell what you have to tell”, it sums up the balance we often have to strike so well.
DeleteI completely understand where you're coming from with the question of whether people in your personal life really need to know. Sometimes, it just doesn't feel necessary, and I think you’re absolutely right in choosing not to share unless it serves a purpose for your well-being or safety.
I really admire the way you’ve managed to navigate being Deeanna in public while also maintaining boundaries with people outside of the trans community. It sounds like you’ve found a way to be true to yourself without feeling the pressure to disclose more than you're comfortable with. The distinction between "being out" in public but not necessarily revealing everything to others is something that resonates with me. It’s a way of being authentically you while also protecting parts of yourself that feel safer to keep private.
Your approach to sharing your identity with close family and medical professionals makes a lot of sense, too. It’s about who needs to know and, more importantly, who you feel safe with. It’s also reassuring to hear how you’ve carefully managed the balance with your trans friends and the people who knew you before, there’s wisdom in being selective with who gets to be part of your full story.
I also appreciate your point about how things might shift if you were to live full-time or transition. It’s a good reminder that disclosure is always a personal choice and that our journey can look different at different stages.
Thank you again for sharing your thoughts. Your experience and the way you approach these things with such clarity and care is really inspiring. I think I’ll keep your words in mind as I continue figuring out what feels right for me.
Lotte x
My goodness, Lotte. Wanting to be seen and understood, but protecting the people you love. And it not even being about your own truth any more.
ReplyDeleteAnd wanting to talk with women at work? Yes! There is one woman in particular who has the absolute best style (I call it 'hyper feminine librarian chic'.). I just want to talk to her about it so much. But coming from boymode? It comes of weird.
I feel so much of this struggle alongside you.
Michelle, Thank you so much for your thoughtful reply. I really appreciate how you’ve captured the struggle. It is a fine line between wanting to be seen and understood, and protecting the people you love.
DeleteIt can feel like such a delicate balance, especially when you realise that sometimes it’s not just about your own truth, but also about navigating the feelings and comfort of those around you. It's a lot to carry.
And I hear you on wanting to talk to women at work about things like style, it’s so difficult when you feel like there’s a gap between how you want to connect and how things might come across.
I absolutely get the hesitation, especially when you’re coming from boymode and feel like it could come off as strange. It’s that desire for shared connection, but with the added complexity of how we’re perceived.
It’s really comforting to know you feel the same way. The struggle feels a bit lighter when shared, and it helps to know I’m not alone in this.
I also love the idea of ‘hyper feminine librarian chic’—it sounds like a style that’s both timeless and elegant. I imagine you’d have lots to chat about with that colleague if the moment ever feels right.
Thanks again for sharing your thoughts with me. It really means a lot.
Lotte x
Hi Lotte,
ReplyDeleteAs the saying goes, "you can't unring a bell" once you tell someone it's no longer a secret as you can't control who they tell, they might innocently let it slip, but, once it gets out, its impossible to contain it. Also it's impossible to know for definite how people will react, someone who appears " woke" might not be supportive when it becomes a reality, and someone who might seem like an uptight conservative might not mind at all. Also it's extremely difficult for a man to compliment a woman in the workplace without coming across as creepy, gay men tend to get away with it, straight men generally don't. I think we've all been in that situation where we want to be just one of the girls, but, unfortunately we can't.
You have the support of the people closest to you, which is the most important and I think you are currently on a path that will eventually free the genie from her bottle!
Jasmine xx
Jasmine, Thank you for your insightful reply. You’re right about how once something is out there, it’s impossible to contain. The idea of “you can’t unring a bell” is such a perfect way to put it.
DeleteOnce people know, it’s no longer just your secret, and you can’t control how they’ll respond or who they might tell. It’s a scary thought, but also a reality that we have to face when we make those decisions about disclosure.
I also really agree with your point about how reactions are unpredictable. Someone who seems open-minded on the surface might not react the way we hope, and someone who seems more conservative could surprise us with their acceptance.
It’s impossible to know for sure, which makes the whole process feel like a bit of a gamble at times. But I guess, like you said, having the support of those closest to us is what really matters in the end, and I’m grateful for that.
The bit about compliments in the workplace really hit home, too. It’s so tricky for men to offer genuine compliments without it being misinterpreted, and as you pointed out, gay men often get a pass in ways that straight men don’t. It’s a weird dynamic to navigate, especially when you just want to fit in and be seen as yourself, without those added complications.
Lotte x