We take our places in the wings, ready to hit the stage. Lots of smiles, hand-holding, and hugging. Everyone is celebrating like it’s over, but to me, this is the only performance that matters. Seating is first come, first served, so I have no idea where my parents are, but all that matters is that Mom is out there. The most important audience of all.

The lights go dark, our cue to take the stage in first position. My heart is beating hard. The crowd is going nuts—double the energy of the other nights. Lots of whistles, people screaming their friends’ names, and an airhorn goes off.

I find my chair on stage left, shut my eyes, and take a deep breath.

The music starts, the lights get bright, and the show begins.

8:59 P.M.

The dressing room is empty. Everyone is outside getting love from their friends and family. I can hear the crew breaking down the sets as quick as they can. The show is done, Grease is over, and now I need to give the performance of my life. I can barely zip my backpack—filled with things from my changing station and my next costume.

I take the stairs up to the gender-neutral bathroom to change. Less of a chance someone will walk in here and question my outfit. I briefly considered changing outside in between cars, but it’s too cold and I don’t want to explain myself to the cops. I need to be quick—Aunt Lil is escorting my parents to the restaurant, but I don’t want to leave them alone too long. I put on a blouse with tiny yellow flowers and a long blue-jean skirt—the exact outfit I left Pennsylvania wearing. I borrowed my aunt’s long trench coat to hide my costume as much as possible.

Before leaving the restroom, I stop at the full-length mirror, open my coat, and look at my body. The old me—here for an encore performance. I reach into my pocket—almost forgot the last touch—and pull out a pink barrette. I put it on and frown at myself in the mirror.

I am my mother’s daughter. I love my parents and theater and Jesus—in that order. Insecure, uncomfortable, unsure, and confused. I pretend to be a girl because my parents have given me no choice. They have imprisoned me in this identity because they can’t accept my reality.

I feel a panic attack coming on. I remind myself that I have escaped. I just need to play this role for a couple of hours. Not days, months, or years. Just appetizer, dinner, and dessert. I take a deep breath and exit the bathroom.