The History of My Breasts

How accidental top surgery made me realize I'm trans.

There's a story in my family that was often told when I was young. I was born with so little hair that people used to mistake me for a boy. My mom would put lace headbands around my head to signal my femininity but as soon as she put them on I'd tear them off. The fight was neverending.

There's a photo of my great-grandmother Mary Malloy, one of the first on my mom's side to immigrate from Ireland to the US. She's wearing a polka dot dress and carrying a purse. Her shoulders are wide. Her breasts are big. Her head is tilted back like mine often naturally is in photos. She looks like she could punch your head through a fucking wall. She loved pro wrestling. I've always been obsessed with her.

I come from a long line of tough women, some more feminine, some more masculine than others. Their way of navigating violence, discrimination, economic disasters, and unreliable husbands has been as varied as my experience of my gender.

This past year has been about challenging myself to write about the things that scare me the most. To share what's true for me in the most direct way that I can. To stand in my truth and trust that it's enough.

This week I had an essay published at Insider about the history of my breasts and how accidental top surgery made me realize I'm trans. I'm very grateful to have worked with my editor Rosemary Donahue on this essay. They helped me tell a long and winding story in the most concise way possible. Below this intro, I have included the full version of the essay, which has some important details that didn't make the cut for the Insider version.