Allegra's Trans Experience

(TW: transphobia)

Just like it was for most of the trans community, 2025 was a tough year for me.

At the beginning, I was reeling from a breakup with someone I had been with for two years, and thought was the one. I gave her so many chances to grow with me and love the real me, but she was more interested in having everything her way and trying to bring back my old self. I was scared beyond belief of the incoming presidential administration in the States, thinking it was only a matter of time before I would lose my right to transition, or even exist as a trans woman in my home country at all. On top of that, I felt dismissed and ignored by my ex, my family, and even my therapist, since none of them seemed to understand how much danger I felt I was in.

All of them kept telling me “Oh, Trump can’t take away your rights, you’re catastrophizing!” They ignored all the obviously hateful and transphobic propaganda that Trump and his cronies kept spewing towards us, and the fact that so many people were already losing rights thanks to the recent Supreme Court decisions and billionaires buying out politicians in both major parties.

The only people who seemed to empathize with what I was going through were my friends. And even so, I struggled a lot with being vulnerable and asking for help. I didn’t want to seem “too much” out of fear that I would get hurt again, like I did in my relationship with my ex and with my parents.

So what did I do? I moved to Spain through a teaching abroad program, hoping to start a new life.

I got my TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certificate, took Spanish classes, and applied for English teaching jobs in the Madrid area. I made some new friends and even started dating someone new, beginning my first real lesbian relationship! As lonely as I was in the beginning, it seemed like things could work out for me there.

But it took me until September to finally land a teaching job, and when I did, it was as an auxiliar (English language assistant) in a public school in Getafe. So instead of the smaller classes with adults that I did my teaching practices in, I was put in classes with twenty to thirty children and expected to plan lessons for all of them. However, I was being paid only 900 euros a month while working four school days a week, which was barely enough for me to afford my rent, food, and hormone therapy.

I would come home absolutely exhausted from my job, and still be expected to plan lessons for the next day. Although my position was “language assistant”, I was expected to act like a professional teacher, while getting paid very little and feeling all alone due to being the only trans woman there.

Worse still, I was asked the question “Are you a boy or a girl?” by eight different students, all boys, in the first two weeks of working there. On top of that, I heard racist and ableist jokes from several students, some of them as young as seven years old. They natively spoke Spanish so they probably didn’t think I would understand them, but I did. I even got called a boy twice, despite clearly presenting as a woman. And it hurt.

When I tried to bring this up with my coordinator, he told me that a lot of the students come from conservative families and that they wouldn’t understand my identity, so I had to be patient with them. I understood where he was coming from, but that didn’t change how hostile the environment felt to me. And I didn’t believe that the kids truly couldn’t understand someone being trans. After all, they already knew how to bully people that didn’t look or act like them, and disrespect their trans teacher!

On top of that, at a later meeting with my coordinator, he also told me that the students’ parents were complaining about their kids being “indoctrinated” just because I talked about how some families have two dads or two moms, and that boys can wear skirts and become girls, even though they were relevant to my lessons about family and clothes respectively. Apparently even that was too “political” for them. This was exactly the kind of ridiculousness I hoped to leave behind in the States after I left my teaching career there, and yet I was dealing with the same thing! I couldn’t take it anymore.

Things started to go downhill in my personal life too. I broke up with my new girlfriend in October due to struggles with us being long-distance and me not knowing how much I meant to her. Most of the initial friends I made last spring ended up moving back to their home countries. I had never felt more alone at that point.

All of this affected the quality of my lessons, and my ability to show up at my job. It got to a point where many parents and teachers didn’t even want me there. So my coordinator gave me an ultimatum; that I would have to deliver perfect lessons for the next week and a long time afterwards, or I would be dismissed. Initially I thought “ok, I’m gonna try a lot harder and give the best lessons I possibly can.” But as I came home that day, I did some soul-searching.

I asked myself, “Is this really what I want? To give it my all and be perfect for a job where I’m facing transphobia on the regular and not being given any support for it? And in a field that I already had to leave behind in my home country because of the same problems I’m facing here?”

After that, I decided it was finally time to leave teaching behind for good. I was finally learning to live my truth, and I wanted to put real effort into my friendships and form my own chosen family. I couldn’t stay stuck in a career that demanded that I sacrifice those things.

I was crying almost every day the week that I quit my job. Afterwards, I cried much less often.

That being said, I had no idea where to go next. I thought I would find an au pair or long-term house sitting job in another trans-friendly country. But one day shortly after I quit, one of my best friends from back home called me. When I told her my situation, she suggested that I come home, saying that so far New Jersey has still been safer than most places in the States, at least for her and the others in my old community.

For so long, I was terrified of the thought of returning to the States. But then I realized something. There were still so many trans people I was friends with and influencers I followed who were still alive and visible, and still fighting for their rights. I saw reports of everyday people protesting and running ICE out of their cities to protect their immigrant neighbors. Even through simply scrolling through Instagram and Threads, I heard stories of new trans people coming out and starting HRT, with help from their families and communities. Several progressive (or at least non-Republican) candidates also won local and state elections across the country, most notably Zohran Mamdani being elected mayor of New York City and Mikie Sherrill winning the race for governor of New Jersey. Through hearing this and speaking with my old friends, I became filled with hope. I was still afraid of coming back, but I also started to have more faith that my community, my people, would be there to protect me.

I learned this past year that safety means more than just having rights. It means being cared for and protected. Being loved, held, and understood. Feeling wanted, celebrated, and like you can be yourself and still belong. I’ve always wanted (and needed) that, but my past experiences made me internalize the beliefs that I was the only one who could truly support myself the way I needed, and that I couldn’t be too emotional or needy around anyone or I would get hurt or left behind. These intense feelings of fear and aloneness made me lose sight of how much support I really had, and what I really wanted.

I also learned that I don’t need to shrink myself to be loved and supported. I stood up for myself more this year than I ever did in past years, leaving several situations where I was being used, neglected, and/or dehumanized. I finally gained the courage to tell the world, “Not anymore. This is my life, not anyone else’s.” I learned that I can do so and still be a kind person, and still be loved for it. Every time I set a boundary or left a toxic situation, I told my friends. And they told me they were sorry I had to go through that, but also that they were proud of me, and that they were glad I got out. But most importantly, I’ve learned that the right people for me, as busy as they may be, will make time and energy for me as I would do for them.

So for 2026, my biggest goal is to build the chosen family of my dreams. I will find other people who are making friendship a priority in their lives, whether they’re already friends with me or not. I will get involved in community events, and take part in new hobbies where I can meet more like-minded people. I will still focus on building my career as a writer, but I still deeply value human connection and I need that in my life if I am to thrive. I want to be truly seen, loved, and understood, and to feel safe enough to slow down around the people who love me. I know that that is the best way for me to heal. Because no matter what Instagram self-care posts tell you, true healing doesn’t happen only in isolation. It happens through authentic community care and love.

I’ve come this far believing in myself. So it’s time I started believing in others too.