LGBTQ

Brie Chapter 3 – My Name Is

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When I started writing this series I wanted it to be as honest as possible, to let you all in on all aspects of my life and journey, and part of that includes telling you about my past. I do hope you’re sitting comfortably somewhere because this is going to get really personal.

My name is now legally Brie Michelle Elizabeth Doyle, but it obviously wasn’t always. I was born, Brian Michael Edward Doyle, to two of the most amazing, loving, accepting parents that an LGBTQ+ child could ever possibly hope to have. Growing up as a young boy I was always attracted to feminine, stereotypically girly things. I wanted to play house, to play with Barbie’s and other dolls. I even asked for, and got, an easy bake oven and a three-minute ice cream maker for Christmas one year. I was always more comfortable with girls than I was with boys and always had way more girl friends, to the point that I started calling myself a tom-girl. Whenever my friends and I would play “house” and dress up in their parents’ old clothes, I always wore the dresses and pretended I was the mother, my six-year-old self never really thinking much of it. I always knew I was different, that I wasn’t like other boys. However, when I hit puberty and realized I liked boys, not girls, I just assumed I was so girly because I was gay. So I took that label and ran with it and came out as gay to all my friends and family shortly after.

I never once felt like I was trapped in the wrong body like I was supposed to be a girl and not a boy

I never once felt like I was trapped in the wrong body like I was supposed to be a girl and not a boy. I was so sure that I was just a super feminine gay guy. My parents were and still are, very open minded, and as I went through my teen years, they let me express myself how I wanted to. I wanted to carry a purse, so they let me. I wanted to paint my nails, so they let me. I wanted to wear more typically female clothes, so they let me. I was always free to express my femininity. As I grew older I started noticing things about my body that made me uncomfortable, that I would later realize was gender dysphoria, but at the time just assumed were feelings all feminine gay men had.

Growing up as the only openly gay guy in my high school, feeling like I was a girl when I was around a group of straight guys was a feeling I grew used to. I, once again, never thought much of it. I was so feminine that it just made sense that I would feel like a girl when in the company of boys. But then I moved to Toronto, and finally met other gay guys that were like me, and I still felt like I was a girl around a bunch of guys.

My whole life I always felt different, like I never really belonged anywhere. And when I came out as gay I was so sure that when I moved away to Toronto and went to the gay village where other gay men were, I’d finally find that feeling of belonging. There I was though, at Woody’s, with gay men similar to myself and I still didn’t feel like I belonged. That I was different than them. That I was still a girl around a bunch of boys.

I was floored.

“How can this be?” I asked myself. “These gay men are just as feminine as I am, I shouldn’t feel this way. Why do I feel this way?”

The answer was simple and obvious, and I knew it immediately. All these men had something I didn’t. Despite how feminine they may have been, they all had this innate comfortability with everything that made them male. They may have been wearing eye liner and mascara, maybe even blush and other kinds of makeup, but they also had a full beard. They may have been wearing short shorts and flimsy feminine tank tops, but they also had leg hair and chest hair and showed off both happily, and with pride. They spoke fondly of their genitals, loved using them and loved it when others touched them. They liked being male. I did not. That was the difference. I was 21 when that revelation happened, and I was so scared of what it meant that I buried it deep, deep, down inside me and spent the next seven years completely denying that it was there at all. But it was there, lurking in the dark corners of my mind, and the harder I tried to prove to myself I was male, the harder it became to ignore the truth.

It took going against everything I was; it took pretending to be something I wasn’t, it took losing the man I loved to finally gain the courage to stop running. To stop hiding. To finally face the truth.
I am not a man; I am a woman.

Saying those words out loud to myself changed my life for the better. I finally felt normal, I finally felt like I belonged, and for the first time in my life, I finally liked myself. I understood myself and knew myself, so much better than I ever had. The road to self-discovery and self-acceptance is a long one, with twists and turns, ups and downs, and many surprises. No matter where it leads you, you are not alone. You are loved, you are valued. You are enough. Until next time.

Happy Pride and Stay Fabulous,
Brie xoxo

 

A Year in the Life of Brie’s Transition

 

Brie Chapter 2 – Transition 101: The Basics

 

 

 

Brie Michelle Elizabeth

I am a trans woman, millennial, cat mother, wine enthusiast, and in a very serious long-term relationship with coffee. When I’m not filming for the TV show, “Knock, Knock, Ghost!”, I’m struggling to apply lipstick without it getting on my teeth. Follow along as I blossom into my true self.