Hello all. My name for the purposes of Gaia is Shalom. In real life, most of my friends, acquaintances, etc. call me Hunter, but most of my family still calls me by the name I was born with, Mira. I told a bit about myself on the introduction thread, thought I'd more just tell my story about how these things came to be on this page.

GENDER/SEXUAL IDENTITY
I was born female, but by the time I was starting elementary school I'd realized this didn't really feel right. I was very athletic, the only girl on my school's soccer team. I played in my room with Legos and toy trucks while most of the girls in my class were playing with Barbies. I wore boyish clothes and kept my hair shorter than most of the girls in my class, and I was so male-looking that when I went into the girls' bathroom on my first day of school, a horde of girls ran out screaming "THERE'S A BOY IN HERE!!" After that first embarrassment, people gradually came to realize that I really was a girl--my name was Mira--I just didn't look or act like one. Most of my friends were boys--they seemed to get over the fact that I had cooties for long enough to ask me to teach them how to dribble a soccer ball correctly, or teach them how to use triangle defense formation on the field. To be of note, I was in an abusive situation at home--I was living with my uncle, who was physically and sexually abusive. Later on, after he was arrested, I came out lesbian, and people said they weren't surprised that, what with how I grew up, I had "turned out like this."

I was removed from my uncle's home when I was 12, and he was arrested. By that time I had grown to hate the fact that I was female--in my mind, if I had been a little boy, as people continually mistook me for, I wouldn't have gotten abused by my uncle. My body started developing and I began cutting myself on parts where it was developed--when my breasts started forming, I cut them again and again, wishing they would go away. I came out lesbian when I was 13. I was institutionalized between 15 and 16 for drug abuse, and after that returned to living in foster. At 17 I left foster care to live with my girlfriend, who had bipolar disorder. This turned tragic when, seven months later, during a particularly severe depressive episode, she committed suicide. I felt like the side of me that felt I could live as a female died with her, and at 17--almost 18--I began identifying as a transgendered man. After a few months, while I was talking to my therapist, I realized something--as much as I felt uncomfortable as a female, there were times when I did not feel right identifying as male either. I met someone when I was 18 who identified as genderqueer, and began learning about it. I realized this was where I felt comfortable--not one or the other, but able to be both or neither as felt right. I began identifying as genderfluid, with my full sexual attraction directed towards girls. That December, however, something changed--I began feeling attracted to my best friend, J., who is a cisgendered heterosexual male. And while, having met some of his girlfriends and seen how their relationships went, I was nervous about trying to start a relationship with him, I wound up deciding to give it a try anyhow. Because he knew me as, essentially, his "lesbian best friend", I wasn't sure how to tell him. So one day, while we were eating lunch, I asked him, "How is a girl supposed to tell a guy she likes him? I talk to girls all the time, but I don't know how girls tell guys that stuff." He answered, "I can't speak for everyone, but usually someone just comes outright and tells me...guys as a whole suck with picking up on subtle hints." Then I said it: "Okay. I know I'm like your gay best friend and thereby probably permanently friendzoned, but I really do like you and I want to go out on you with a date someday. Want to?" He looked stunned for about 30 seconds, and finally cracked up and said, "Well! I was not expecting that...but yeah, that sounds great!" On Christmas Eve, we went to dinner together--our first date, and the start of our relationship. After we had been dating for about 2 years, he and I moved in together. We had been living together for a little over a year when, on the 3-year anniversary of our first date, he asked me to marry him. So...happily engaged since December 24, 2011.

A lot of people have said to me that being abused by my uncle as a child is "the cause" of my sexuality (I now identify as queer, because although I was attracted solely to women until I was 18, there is one exception who showed up) and gender identity (genderfluid). I personally call bullshit on that. Even before I went to live with my uncle at 4 years old, I was a very athletic kid and I had a more boyish look that whole time--I never had any interest in long hair, so it's always been short, and I disliked wearing dresses. I played with pokemon cards, I enjoyed toy trucks and legos and action figures, I watched some cartoons that people told me were "boy" things, and I played MarioKart better than most of the boys in my school did. Even when I was in Kindergarten, people said I spoke, acted and walked like a boy--my speech, behavior, and posture, they said, all seemed more masculine than girly. Although I cannot be sure, I don't think that all of this could possibly be attributed to my uncle's abuse.


THESE DAYS...
I am 23 years old. I live in Brooklyn with my fiance. We actually got married at his church a while ago, but the ceremony was strictly religious, there is nothing legally binding us yet--still trying to save up money for a good wedding. I talk to my biological family occasionally, and they still call me "Mira", but I don't consider them my "real" family. My "real" family is my network of friends who have stood by me this whole time, the people at my church who love and accept me as if I were their own child, my fiance, and my long-time mentor, Susan, who is a transgendered woman and has always taught me to be okay with myself, no matter what anyone else says. It's like RuPaul says, "We get to choose our families." I couldn't agree more. I work as a receptionist while I try to get my freelance journalism career off the ground. As the only female employee in a male-run law firm, I wear a pencil skirt, a blouse, a blazer, pantyhose, and high heels for work, which is by far the most uncomfortable outfit ever for me. But I learned to deal with all of it--whether I like it or not, it's a living. And I deal with it. I really only keep the job for 2 reasons (journalism does pay the rent): #1, brings in steady money even when my freelance work is slow, and #2, saving up for my wedding and hopefully to one day buy a house and start a family.

In general, life is weird. Always has been, always will be.

I ******** love it.