My name is Ezra. I chose it and for that, it’s special to me.
I’ve always wanted to name myself, even back before I knew I was trans and entertained the idea of transitioning to any extent.
Back when I was aggressively trying to match my agab, I picked a new name and used it for about 2 years. With it came a new personality, albeit a false one, but eventually, I realized I was fooling everyone with my act but myself. I came to understand that I had quite more pressing issues to work out than figuring out what new sound I wanted people to make to get my attention, so I stopped using it and left the decision alone for a while.
I’m lucky in that my birth name has a gender ambiguous nickname, and the initial-chosen name never really caught on. The majority of the people I know still call me the gender neutral short version of my birth name, which makes me feel less misgendered. While my heart flutters when someone uses my correct pronouns (he/him, or to a lesser extent, they/them), I try not to let the often incorrect (she/her) pronouns bother me.
I’m glad to have made a kind of peace with my name. My mother named me, and she died a little over a year ago, before I came out. After she died, more of me wanted to hold onto it, and along with it, a part of her.
I wonder what she would think of all of this, though I don’t have to, really. She probably wouldn’t care, other than wanting to know if it makes me happy.
She was like that.