I LEARNED ABOUT transgender people [in college]. Prior to that, I had a lot of conversations with gay friends—my lesbian friends in particular—about how they felt in their bodies, and how they felt just existing as women in the world. They loved it; they felt very confident. Even the ones that were masculine of center, they were just like, “The role that I play in a relationship may be that of a more masculine person, but I love being a woman. I love my body.”
It’s not that I hated my body—I just didn’t feel comfortable in it. But once I learned who I truly was inside and I realized I was able to make a change, I started to explore more in college. I bought my first binder from China, and it took three weeks to arrive. When it [arrived], I remember putting it on, and putting my shirt on over it with my flat chest there for everyone to see. I also shaved my head. I think I scared some people, but I was so excited.
After I graduated college, I started working at Callen Lord Community Health Center in New York, and that’s where I met a trans guy in person for the first time. I didn’t know that he was trans until he disclosed it to me, [and I realized] it’s not this big scary thing that everyone says it was going to be. I can still find a job, I will be loved. I was 23 years old when I made the decision to transition.
[A year before I did], I made sure my health was okay to start the medical transition, that I went to therapy, and that I was ready for the physical changes that were to come. I did hours and hours of research online about what to expect from people who had already gone through a medical transition. I also did research on top surgeons, because I knew that I wanted my physique to be a certain way. For me, there’s this idea of perfection—it’s definitely changed from then to now—but I didn’t want to be what I read in a lot of the forums from bigots.
I also knew I didn’t want very visible scars, and that part would be up to me. I’m kind of OCD, very high-maintenance, so when young trans guys hit me up asking about the surgeon that I went to, I let them know. But I also let them know that this is surgery, and the aftercare is so important. You can’t be lifting up your arms; you have to be very gentle; you have to use certain products that are going to help with scar healing, especially if you get a double incision version of the surgery. I have friends that have very visible scars and it’s okay for them, but I knew I didn’t want that.
I’D BEEN AN athlete all my life, so I’d already been working on my body since a young age. I was accustomed to having huge traps and really, really developed arms. When my dad would hit grounders to me and my brother during baseball practice, if he let a ball go in between his legs, he would make him run and do push-ups. And I would be like, “Hey, make me run and do push-ups, treat me the same.” I always wanted to be strong and look like an action hero, and that was the goal in the very beginning of my transition: to be a bodybuilder and be jacked.
Being young and new to this body that I’ve always dreamed of having, now I don’t work out as often. I want to preserve my joints and my health, so it’s less aesthetic and more about mobility for me. I used to solely lift and I would do a bit of cardio. Now it’s just moderately heavy [weights] and more mobility training to make sure that my joints stay healthy for a long time. I also want to make sure that the abs are still popping, but that goes up and down.
Athletics isn’t free of transphobia, though. If there’s commentary in that regard, it’s usually something along the lines of, “Yeah, I’d be able to look like that too if I was juicing all that testosterone like you are.” And that just shows people don’t know what this process is, and they’re not paying attention. I’ve posted photos of myself before and there are other trans guys who have transitioned and haven’t achieved a certain body type. You have to go to the gym and build your body. You just don’t go on testosterone and all of a sudden you look like Superman.
IT WAS ONCE my appearance started to change that the path to modeling opened up [for me], but I don’t believe I fall into either category of fitness or fashion model; I’m hired because of my transness. There was that initial photo that went viral of me in Calvin Klein underwear (which I’ve since archived—I was only a year-and-a-half into my transition, and my body wasn’t where I wanted it to be), where I was packing that huge thing that kick-started everything for me. I was still learning, wanting to feel super confident. Looking back at that photo, I was like, “Oh my god, it looks like a horse penis,” but the photographer had a lot of fun and said that it would be good for me. It made its way online and went viral initially, but in a negative way.
I never put myself out there in that way before–I put it on my social media just for my small group of friends and to track my own transition by showing, “Hey, here’s what I’m looking like. Look how my body’s changing.” But the comments took their toll on me. It went on for several weeks, shifting from the blogs to my Instagram page. I was overwhelmed, I got really depressed, and I didn’t know what to do.
And that’s when Laverne Cox randomly stumbled upon it and gave it a share, and I got all this love and positive commentary from the community. In addition to that support, the modeling opportunities came. More people started reaching out for gigs, and I ended up getting on the reality TV show that was produced by Whoopi Goldberg called Strut about trans models that kind of kick-started my career.
I love clothes, but I haven’t shot anything in a very long time. When I have, it’s mostly because my body is what’s for sale. There are times when I feel like I’m being exploited for my physicality, but I capitalized off of that as well. I worked for it, so I don’t mind showing off what I’ve worked on for so long. I just want to be taken seriously.
EVEN WITH ALL I’ve accomplished, I still feel there’s tokenism and I’m offered [opportunities] simply for being trans. But I have to take it because I need to make a living. With certain brand deals, because of my following on social media, I can be pretty successful. But I think this year, especially given the temperature of politics, I think brands might be steering clear of certain folks. There’s so much nuance because there’s also me not being visibly trans, so if they want to show someone that’s trans, they want to show someone who’s visibly trans. In those cases, I lose opportunities because then I just become just a regular guy. Either I’m too visibly trans, or I’m not trans enough.
In the modeling world, I don’t fit that new body positive idea because it usually leans towards bigger bodies or bodies that are very visibly different. For men, I’m too short for high fashion. I’m too short even for women’s high fashion. I just try to put myself out there and try my best and hopefully someone sees it. I just want to showcase my talents and have fun. But I understand that as far as my career, and as far as building my brand as who I am, I have some work to do.
I don’t think that a lot of the guys on the set of “Lavender Haze” even knew that I was trans. Everyone on set made me feel so comfortable; the guys, the director, the assistant director, they were like, “We all wish we had your body.” I think it was Taylor [Swift]’s hair stylist and makeup artist who told me, “This is going to change your life.” I looked over and I just smiled because I knew it wouldn’t.
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Even though I’m trans, I’m not visibly trans, so it wasn’t this huge deal. One of her past love interests wasn’t a super huge model prior to the video—he worked a normal amount—but after that, he became one of the number one highest-earning male models in the world. For me, nothing.
It’s a big win for the community, and it’s a big win for young trans guys who can watch the video and say, “Hey, I can be loved even though it’s in a music video. I’m not this weird freak, and I can be whoever you want to be.” So I think in that sense, yes, it was successful. For me personally, though, it wasn’t enough of a fantastic experience that I blew up after. But who knows, maybe my name is being thrown around somewhere.
IT’S IMPORTANT FOR me to disclose my transness because visibility is important, and I want to show all the ranges of being a human being. Being trans doesn’t look one way. That said, I do know that there are privileges that come with looking binary, and with being stereotypically masculine in my appearance. I’m very comfortable both in my femininity and in my masculinity. I lived 24 years of my life, and even though I was a masculine woman for part of it, I was still me.
I still lived as a daughter. I still lived as a sister to my brothers. I know what that is, and so the way that I see the world—and the way that I interact with people—is very fluid. I’m not afraid to see a male friend and give him a huge hug and kiss on the cheek without people being like, “Oh, that’s gay.”
Who gives a fuck. Shut up. Yeah, it’s gay, I am in the community, I’m trans, I might be a little gay. It’s not a problem for me, but it blows people’s minds for some reason. They need to free themselves from those boxes.
The world is so vast, it’s so diverse—why would anyone want to be the same as someone else? We should be able to participate in society, feel welcomed, and live day to day without fear. To be able to share moments with your family—whether that’s biological or chosen—and continue to learn and grow. You should have a full view of the world and the types of people in it so that everyone feels seen and noticed. And to keep learning is incredible. Learning makes me feel alive, and it makes me want to keep going.
Sean Abrams is the Senior Editor, Growth and Engagement at Men’s Health. He’s a former hip hop dancer who likes long walks on the beach and large glasses of tequila. You can find his previous work at Maxim, Elite Daily, and AskMen.
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