“JESSICA! GET UP FOR SCHOOL NOW!!” My mother screams at 7 in the morning.

I can hear the madness as the base in her voice deepens. So, I immediately bounce up really quickly and slide some jeans and a button up on.
“It’s Jerome...” I mumble under my breath so she wouldn’t hear me.
My mother knows I don’t like my birth name. It’s too girly. My mother says she named me after her best friend that died when she was younger. Sometimes, I feel bad that I’m changing my name because I know it means a lot to her.
“She is going to be late on her first day.” My mother says talking to my stepdad.
Again. She did it again. Sometimes, I just feel likes she doesn’t even try to respect my preferred pronouns. I actually hate saying “preferred pronouns” because I feel like those are my real ones, but obviously my body says otherwise.
I look in the mirror and don’t see myself; all I see is a girl in boy’s’ clothes. I feel insecure everyday, but I try to push through because I know my transition is coming. At least one day it will.
It’s my first day as a senior in a new high school. This is just terrible. Everybody is going to call me Jessica and the wrong pronouns. I might as well get used to getting disrespected.
I take some cereal in a sandwich baggie and leave out the door with my mom behind me telling me over and over that I am late. I get in the car and don’t say anything because I know if I start an argument with her, she will keep going.
“Are you nervous or something?” she says sounding concerned for once.
“Yes…” I say nervously.
“It’s your first day as a senior; I just don’t want you to be late. What’s your problem? You look beautiful.” My mom says opening the car door.
“I’m handsome….” I say putting my head down.
I can tell she doesn’t put any effort in at least acting as if I was her son. I mean common, what mom tells her son that he is beautiful? I look at my shirt and button it up to my neck. It was a red button up; I love button ups because they make my chest look flatter.
I take my first testosterone shot in 2 weeks. I can tell my mom is nervous and doesn’t want to loose her daughter, but what she doesn’t understand is that if I don’t go through with this transition, my depression will take over me. So, I start thinking more and turn to my mom and decide to tell her how I really feel.
“Uh, Mom we… we need to talk” I stutter nervously.
“Yeah?” She asks sounding annoyed.
I take a deep breath.
“I need you to understand how I feel about this transition. Even though I know you don’t like talking about it, we have to. This is real mom, I want you to be there for me and I would love for you to respect my preferred pronouns. A lot of people don’t respect my preferred pronouns or name but you are the only one who really affects me. You are my mom… I need you to be the main one here for me. You don’t feel like you’re in the wrong body… I do, so I wouldn’t expect you to be perfect all the time. All I am asking is for you to try.”
It gets awkward cause she doesn’t even look at me. She just turns the corner to my school and parks. I feel myself getting upset that she didn’t reply to all that.
“You look very handsome today.” She says to me giving me a kind of ‘I’m sorry’ look.
I give her a hug and tell her that I love her. All I needed for her was to try, it felt really good. I look up and see my best friend running over to the car. I tell Dayron what’s up and get out of the car waving at my mom.
“Hi, Mrs. Davis!” He says to my mom sounding excited for the first day as seniors.
As my mother drives away, I immediately tell Dayron that she called me handsome. He jumps up in the air then picks me up yelling that I am the man! This is why I love my best friend. He just made me happier.
“Finally!!” I say laughing and chanting with him. Nobody knows how big of deal it was except him. People were staring at us chant like we were idiots.
“Hello, Ms. Davis!” One of my old teachers says to me.
Dayron jumps in front of me full of energy.
“It’s Mr. Davis! He goes by Jerome too! It’s a new day and a new year, get with it Mrs. Rogers!” He says playing around.
I walk away and don’t let it bother me; all I can think about was that my mom finally called me handsome. Plus, who cares what anybody else has to say because at the end of the day to them, I am just a girl with boy’s clothes.