Since I can remember, I’ve loved wearing dresses, heels, and all things feminine. As a first-grade “ballerina” I loved dancing and twirling; it made me feel free. At home, I wore a long rainbow skirt on my head and a set of unicorn pajamas. I loved music and spent hours writing songs and singing my heart out. Behind closed doors, I knew who I was. Behind closed doors, I was free to be me. But outside my house, I felt like I had to be someone different.

When I was seven years old, I told my parents “I feel like a girl inside, even though I’m a boy on the outside.” My mom took me to a gender therapist to help me work through what I was feeling. After a few months the therapist said that she thought I may just be a very feminine boy. For me, that didn’t feel quite right. But wanting desperately to put a name on what made me so different from everyone else - I started calling myself a “girly boy”or a “tomgirl.”

Within a couple of years, I adopted the label of “gay” - which seemed to be more socially acceptable than the nuance of what I was really feeling. But even that didn’t come without consequence. After I confided in a good friend, she told our whole 5th grade class, which made me a target for bullies. To protect myself from the daily hurt, I started putting on an act… like I was playing a character on stage. I was confident, happy, goofy, and self-deprecating. I found that people seemed more comfortable and accepting of “me” when I was “performing.”

As time went on, it became harder and harder to live as two different people. I struggled to keep the real me locked away at home. So I confided to a group of friends who I thought were genuine. Turns out that they were more comfortable with the act too. Seventh grade was a blur of hurt, and confusion, and meetings with my parents and the principal. It ended in our local police station after a group of bullies took things too far, and the realization that I’d have to find a new place to go to school.

I’ve always had a very strong sense of self. I’ve known who I am, what I love, what makes me happy. But until a year ago, even being the “me” that I was at home, out in the world, didn’t seem possible. None of the other labels I’d tried on had felt quite right, because the label “woman” was never something I’d even considered possible.

Though it still feels too amazing to be true, I write this essay today as a strong transgender woman amidst a gender transition. As crazy as it sounds, I am grateful for the hardship and hurt, as it served as a guidepost - leading me away from a place where I had to hide the real me, and toward a place where I felt safe to let her shine. My new school - the Housatonic Valley Waldorf School - is the first place outside of my house where I feel peaceful and free. Full of people who not only love and accept Billie Paige but who celebrate her. Being here has given me the courage to get to know myself better, and the strength to share my true self with the world.

My year at Waldorf has helped me to discover what a major impact the people around me have on my experience. The teachers and students here gave me the freedom to turn their classroom into another home. By surrounding myself with people that encourage me to flourish, not ones who want to see me fall, I have taken control of my life and am so proud of who I’ve become.

© Billie. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.