Becoming Marah Joyce

Author: Marah Joyce
Author Contact: SexualDiversity.org
Published: 10th Nov 2026
Peer-Reviewed Publication: N/A
Additional References: LGBTQ Stories - Mainstream Publications

Summary: Marah Joyce shares her story of growing up feeling out of place in her body, realizing she was trans at nineteen, and building a new life in Los Angeles..

A first-person essay by Marah Joyce on gender dysphoria, coming out to her parents, choosing her name, and finding self-acceptance after transitioning.

For as long as I can remember, I felt out of place in my body. I grew up as a boy, but inside, I didn't feel like one at all. I never knew why I felt so different. I always felt like I was acting like someone I was supposed to be instead of being myself. If pieces of myself accidentally slipped out, I would be harassed and teased.

I have always had a feminine soul and nature. My second birthday party was Dora-themed. Before I even understood gender expectations, I gravitated toward things people considered feminine. I remember getting a play tool set for Christmas as a young child and crying, saying, "I don't want this!" I wanted a Dora doll. My parents hadn't thought much of what I enjoyed as a two-year-old, but they started replacing my Dora dolls with boy toys because they thought it was the right thing to do.

I was a little girl before the world told me I couldn't be.

It didn't click for me that I really was a girl until I was nineteen. I knew what being trans was, but I didn't realize it described me. The thought honestly scared me. I heard the negative ways people talked about trans people, and I always thought I wasn't one of them. As I grew up, I came out as bisexual, then gay, but I still didn't feel settled in my identity.

The older and more masculine I got, the more I hated myself. I hated every part of male puberty: getting taller, my voice getting deeper, and growing facial hair. The boys around me loved these changes, but I wanted to be small, soft, and feminine. That was how I felt inside, and it felt like my body was betraying me.

Marah Joyce sits on a bright yellow metal bench on a wooden pier overlooking the ocean. She wears a green fitted tank top, black shorts, pink sunglasses, patterned white socks, and red high-top Converse sneakers. Her brown hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she smiles toward the camera while holding a drink. A yellow coin-operated telescope stands nearby, with blue ocean water, a sandy coastline, and distant mountains in the background. Image Credit: Marah Joyce.

At nineteen, I did research and learned about gender dysphoria. It described the feeling I had experienced my entire life but couldn't explain. I knew I wanted to transition—to make my body feel like a home, not just a shelter.

I decided to have a conversation with my parents about my identity. They were confused at first, but over time, they have become extremely supportive, which I am so grateful for. I made an appointment to start hormone replacement therapy, and I began thinking about a new name. My old name was something I had always hated, and it brought me immense dysphoria.

I knew I wanted my middle name to be Joyce, after my dad's mother, who passed away before I was born. I wanted to honor her.

One day, while brainstorming first names, I called my mom. She told me that if I were changing my name, it would be Marah—the name she had saved for me if I had been born a girl.

In that moment, Marah Joyce was born. The name felt like me immediately. Though I still looked like my old self, I was excited to grow into my new name and watch her flourish.

Starting my transition was the first time I put my wants and needs first. Seeing my masculine features soften was deeply healing as I blossomed into who I am now. Less than a year after starting my transition, I decided it was time to sell my car, pack my bags, and chase my dreams in Los Angeles.

I wanted a new beginning in a place that felt safe to me, away from my conservative hometown. I hoped to find acceptance and love in LA, and I did. I had always wanted to move there, and I think transitioning finally gave me the strength to make sacrifices for my goals.

Marah Joyce stands outdoors in front of a lush, leafy green hedge under a bright blue sky. She smiles at the camera, wearing a turquoise cropped tank top with white lettering, a blue denim skirt, a black belt with silver eyelets, and tall black knee-high boots. Her brown hair is pulled back, and she stands casually with her arms at her sides. Image Credit: Marah Joyce.

Today, I have the life I dreamed of. I am a woman. I am in a long-term relationship filled with love and support for who I am, and I am the mom of three beautiful cats. I am proud of myself for taking risks to become who I am and for not letting what other people wanted for me shape my life.

Every day, I learn more about myself and heal from the immense pain I endured before transitioning. I finally feel whole. I love myself and my life. I spent so many years hating both, that being on the other side feels like living a different life. Changing my life took courage, and believing in myself helped me keep going.

My younger self would cry if she could see me today. She's no longer pretending or hiding who she is. She is happy and free. Parts of her that I thought were permanently gone show up every day. I get to explore the person I never got to be as a child and teen, which has been the most beautiful experience of my life.

The biggest lesson I have learned is to accept myself and give myself a chance to follow my heart. I couldn't know exactly what would happen when I came out or moved across the country. But I believed there could be a life where I felt at home in myself, and I gave myself the chance to find it.

Now I get to live that life as Marah Joyce.