On Gender Dysphoria
Thirty teenagers stare at me at a time in 50-minute shifts. Their eyes burn inquisitive. They throw personal questions like darts, and they toe boundaries. Seven months into hormone therapy, I begin to wear a sports bra to work.
The half-closeted life is built of such liminal moments. When I arrive for my afternoon laser appointment, I’m still buried under masculine work clothes. The staff are always…