Claire Xen  🏳️‍⚧️ 🏳️‍🌈 🧙🏻‍♀️ BLM  🏴 🚩

I quickly learned that I disliked the name “Alex,” which felt too masculine to me. This was a helpful & hopeful sign, and I listened when my soul said “Hey, you really don’t enjoy being called a name that is also commonly used on boys.”...

But at 5 syllables, “Alexandria” begs to be shortened. So I chose “Xan.” By fall, 2018, my therapist is exclusively referring to me as Xan. I’m out to a few friends, & Xan quickly & consistently replaces my deadname. I am astounded and delighted by how *right* this feels...

After a few exploratory months of using Xan and she/her pronouns, I know: I’m transgender. I’m a woman. I’m not dressing up as Xan. I’m “dressing up” as myself. I need to transition. I start making plans...

But before long, the prospect of being Alexandria in a more real or permanent way loses its appeal. I’m not Xan, not really...

“If you come to a river,” asks Gaspar in Christioher Moore’s _Lamb_, “and find a boat at the edge, you will use that boat to cross and it will serve you well, but once across the river, do you put the boat on your shoulders and carry it with you on the rest of your journey?”...

“No!” Gaspar says, answering his own question. “No, you don’t take the boat along on the journey. It has been useful but now it’s simply a burden. It’s a parable, you cretins!” Alexandria Divine isn’t exactly a burden, but it is a boat...

Last year, I spoke at a forum created & run by a wonderful ally friend. It was a covert thing, me being closeted & all, but she wanted to know how to introduce me. She wanted to know how to print my name on the program. “It can’t be Xan,” I thought to myself...

“Our next speaker is Alexandria Divine,” just didn’t sound right to me. So as I prepared for the event, I chose a new name. I’ve been using that new name ever since. It’s on my mail. It’s on my résumé. Its what my neighbours and close friends call me...