I’ve always been an introvert. Sharing my thoughts and emotions wasn’t something I naturally did. For most of my life, self-expression lived quietly within me. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve discovered a certain freedom in vulnerability. The older I get, the more I embrace wearing my heart on my sleeve and sharing my story openly. And now, as I write this in 2021, I’ve never felt more proud, more alive, or more comfortable in my own skin as the woman I’ve become.
I was born on January 25, 1995, and my birth certificate reads Derek Sabado, with an “M” beside it. From a young age, I was endlessly curious and wildly creative. My childhood was a canvas, both literally and figuratively. I held a paintbrush in one hand and a sketchbook in the other, filling my room with colorful chaos. I loved designing gowns, especially sweetheart wedding dresses with sweeping princess skirts that I imagined brushing the floor. My creativity extended to playful rituals: twisting long, damp towels around my head, wrapping myself in bedsheets secured with a single rubber band. I’d dance around my room to a lo-fi recording of “Don’t Cha” on my baby-blue Sony MP3 player, escaping into a world only I could see. Looking back, the innocence—and the humor—of those moments fills me with warmth.
Despite my creative freedom, a sense of belonging always eluded me. In high school, I struggled to fit in or define who I was. The only certainty I had was a longing to grow up. I dreamed of independence and the ability to make my own choices. As soon as I could, I started working in retail, drawn to clothing and beauty. Those early jobs became more than work—they were my first taste of freedom, my first opportunity to simply be myself. Away from home, I could explore without judgment. Over time, I experimented with clothing and beauty products from the women’s department: clear nail polish and fitted V-necks at first, then skorts and buttoned blouses. By university, I shopped almost exclusively from the women’s department. I can’t remember the last time I stepped into a men’s fitting room.
Femininity has always felt like a natural part of me, while portraying masculinity felt foreign and uncomfortable. Yet for many years, the idea of being transgender never crossed my mind. The thought of transitioning terrified me—it was wrapped in fear, insecurity, and an unfamiliarity with the LGBTQIA+ community. I didn’t have many gay or trans friends, and I distanced myself in part because of my own discomfort. As an introvert, I held so many feelings inside: loneliness, confusion, and a sense of disconnection. Those emotions built strength in me, but I often wonder—if I had someone to confide in back then, could I have embraced my true self sooner?
By 2018, fashion had become a defining part of my identity. Clothing and beauty were tools through which I expressed my femininity and masked insecurities. Dresses and skirts highlighted a more hourglass silhouette, waist-cinching styles balanced my shoulders, and A-line shapes became my armor. Yet even with all this self-expression, the idea of transitioning never occurred to me—until one ordinary Tinder date changed everything.
We met at a coffee shop, a safe routine I followed for online dates. I was careful, mindful of the horror stories I’d read. After coffee, we walked to a movie theater for Aquaman. At the concession stand, I overheard him say, “Yes, combo number one… but I’m not sure what she wants to drink.” My heart skipped. Did he just…? For the first time, someone addressed me with female pronouns. After the movie—which we barely enjoyed—he gently asked about my discomfort, and I found myself sharing my thoughts on being transgender for the first time. I spoke about my fears: the physical changes, the medical interventions, the unknown. That night, I went home and researched transitioning. I was terrified, but intrigued.
Throughout that year, I experimented more with my appearance, often calling myself gender fluid when people were confused about pronouns. I grew in self-awareness, supported by friends who became an irreplaceable part of my journey. Their love and acceptance provided a safe space to explore who I truly was, free of judgment—a gift I cherish every day.
By late 2019, I made the decision to consult a medical professional about HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy). The following months were a roller coaster—filled with laughter, tears, heartache, and unforgettable joy. In 2020, I began using my voice more openly, especially at work. My self-discovery deepened my empathy and compassion as a manager. I wanted to offer the same sense of opportunity and growth to others that the world had granted me. Carefully, I disclosed my transition to my direct managers and HR. It was nerve-wracking, but I wanted my journey to unfold naturally, without forcing others to suddenly see me as someone entirely new.
The response was overwhelmingly supportive. Since starting HRT, my dream has grown: I hope to one day become a successful trans female CEO. Navigating a corporate environment as a trans woman has been challenging. I’ve had to discuss sensitive topics like pronouns and non-gendered restrooms. To my surprise, these conversations were met with empathy and understanding, proving that openness fosters education and compassion.
Coming out over Zoom, in front of colleagues, offered a protective buffer. It allowed me to control the narrative while being vulnerable to hundreds of people simultaneously. It was terrifying, yes—but also liberating. I finally reclaimed the pronouns that matched who I truly am, shedding the weight of the “M” on my birth certificate that had caused me so much distress.
Since then, life has offered countless blessings. I’ve received recognition for work projects, and for the first time, I feel truly seen and celebrated for who I am. Every day brings a new opportunity to live authentically, to embrace uncertainty, and to grow. Transitioning medically has been challenging, with limited research and resources, but I’ve found solace and guidance through a community of trans women online. Sharing my journey allows me to hold the door open for others—a responsibility I take seriously.
My trans journey is just beginning, and I am overjoyed about the future. In many ways, 2020 felt like the world paused so I could catch up—to embrace myself, chase dreams, and live authentically. My hope is that my story demonstrates the transformative power of love, the courage of self-discovery, and the boundless possibilities that open when we allow ourselves—and each other—to grow.
