My name is Matt Bond. I am a proud Queer, Munanjahli, Bidjara person and 18 years old. I’ve been raised by a family of seven with three cats that I care for at home. I’m known for my shared experiences that I express through various writings to my communities, putting a spotlight on my personal journeys to communicate. I love attending performances, spoken word and several meetups that centre around the experience of being a Blak Queer. It helped shape me and push me to pursue future careers in which, I can guide youths like me to navigate our world.
I wanted to link ‘living their best life’ to the transitioning of gender, specifically my transition. How such small things overall helped me and bettered my life from the people around me.
I used to cry a lot in my room. I used to cry about the world around me, the never-ending fights, the nightmares, but most importantly, I cried about the words I could never use. I cried about the words that could never truly express how I felt or continued to feel, and no one could hear me but my walls.
I would spend countless nights crying to my toys that I could never ‘fit in’ like my brothers could, that I could never do the same things that they could but only because I didn’t look like them.
I remember being envious of my brother’s bonds with each other, this ‘brotherhood’ that I could never be a part of because I could never be like them. I could never be like them, and I cried.
The word was being transgender, but at the time, the only word I could think of was being broken. I was broken for wishing these things and broken because I could never achieve what I wanted. I’ll never be an older brother, I’ll never be the person I want to be and for that, I am broken.
I am broken, I am hurt, and I am lost in a sea of words that don’t define my emotions.
And I would cry because it was yet another thing that was out of my reach. I would never get what I wanted.
It wasn’t until I got older that I discovered the words I needed to free myself. And once the words were found, they were all I could say.
“I want to use he/him.”
“I want my name to be Matt.”
“I want to be an older brother.”
I wanted and I craved the validation that my brother’s sought after so easily; I wanted what they had. I wanted so badly to be them that I cried.
I cried because for once in my life, I was getting something that I had desperately wanted for my whole life. I was getting what I wanted, I was getting what I begged for, I was getting what I deserved.
And I cried.
I cried when my younger brothers used my pronouns, I cried when my mum said she had 5 sons, and I cried when my dad offered his name for me to take.
I cried because suddenly the world didn’t hurt as much anymore, and everything made sense.
I cried because I wasn’t broken, I just wanted to be a boy. It was such a simple statement and yet it took my whole childhood to figure it out. Because all I could ever do was cry.
When life is too hard you cry, and I cried a lot.
But now I can cry with the freedom and knowledge that I am who I am now. I cry with the support of my family behind me, and I cry with their love in my heart.
I cry with happiness.
I cry with freedom.
I cry with pride.
