The Fluidity of Being The Weight of Identity

Over the past year and a half, I found myself tangled in the question of how to define my identity.

For those outside the LGBTQ+ community, it may be difficult to grasp just how intricate and consuming this process can be.

Last June, I established myself as a transgender woman.

It was a revelation—but it came with a flood of questions.

How would I dress? Would I transition medically? What would my family, friends, and colleagues think? Could I handle losing them? And yet, could I bear the alternative—continuing to betray myself by pretending to be someone I was not?

The questions seemed endless, but my answer came swiftly. I was tired.

Exhausted from carrying the weight of pretending. Declaring myself a transgender woman wasn’t just about authenticity; it was survival. It gave voice to my truth—a truth I felt deep within my soul. And with that declaration came a sense of freedom I hadn’t known before.

The Duality of Influence

As I began sharing my journey, I found myself navigating two distinct communities.

One side, largely rooted in LGBTQ+ spaces, embraced identity with fervor. Here, I could explore layers of queerness, learning from others’ stories and histories.

On the other side, a more spiritual circle invited me to look beyond labels—to focus on the essence of who I am rather than how I identify.

At times, these two perspectives felt at odds.

One encouraged me to define myself; the other, to let go of definitions entirely. Both held wisdom, yet neither felt complete.

I realized I needed to listen to a quieter voice—the one within me. And when I did, I uncovered something extraordinary: my truth lay somewhere in between.

When Identity Becomes a Trap

Identities can be powerful tools.

They help us communicate who we are, share our stories, and connect with others.

My identity as a (feminine presenting) transgender woman allows me to articulate a transformative journey. My identity as a lesbian symbolizes my embrace of true femininity and resistance against societal norms. These identities have given me language and purpose.

But they’ve also held me back.

This fall, I stood in front of my closet and realized how much of it was filled with cropped sweaters and shirts—clothes I’d chosen not because I loved them but because they fit an image I thought I needed to project. They were symbols of who I thought I was supposed to be, not who I truly was.

So, I started to let go.

I began dressing with more fluidity, mixing in pieces that didn’t conform to a strict idea of femininity. It felt liberating. It was a small but powerful act of reclaiming myself.

The Gift of Fluidity

This shift taught me something profound: identities are tools, not prisons.

They help us navigate the world, but if we cling to them too tightly, they can limit us.

My identities, while meaningful, are no longer fixed points—they’re fluid, open to change and growth as I continue to evolve.

By letting go of rigidity, I’ve created space for deeper truths to emerge—truths I haven’t discovered yet but know are waiting for me.

My fluidity allows me to stay open to new possibilities, new stories, and new ways of being.

A Promise to Myself

Above all, I’m a soul on a journey, one that transcends the labels and identities I currently hold.

Today, I identify as a transgender woman, and I honor that identity for the doors it has opened and the life it has allowed me to live.

But I won’t promise to hold onto this identity forever—not because it isn’t true, but because I refuse to close myself off from what might come next.

What I will promise is this: I will remain true to myself, whatever that looks like, and I will continue to embrace the fluidity of being.

Because in doing so, I give others permission to do the same.

Because in doing so, my authenticity can affect billions of lives.

With love,

Sabrina

Thank you again for investing in your own authenticity. I am so grateful to be on this journey with you.