My little brother was born when I was seven years old. I had been so excited to meet him since the day my parents told me my mom was pregnant, and I could hardly contain myself the day he finally made his appearance. He screamed for a long time that night, and I begged to hold him anyway. My grandma put him in my arms and showed me how to support his head, and in no time he stopped crying. I was in awe. I'll never forget looking at him for the first time that day, nor will I forget watching him grow every day since then. Being seven years apart, we've always had somewhat of a special bond. There's enough of a gap between us that throughout our childhoods, I was the unofficial leader. I decided whether we played in the backyard or across the driveway on the tire swing. When we ran upstairs after fighting over what show to watch on the TV downstairs (which happened a lot), my mom would pull me aside and remind me "You're old enough to figure this out fairly". For many years, I lead the charges and I called the shots simply because I was his big sister.

Then things shifted.

A little over a year ago, I started being honest with myself and others about being transgender. Slowly, I was letting people know, going by a different name, and becoming more and more open about it as time passed. One day, I was visiting my parents and my brother, and I noticed that things felt different. I went outside to watch my little dude practice some basketball stuff he had learned, and we were talking as he jogged back and forth. I realized that things felt different because I was watching and listening to him not as my little brother, but as someone to emulate. Being a transgender person who has not made steps in the medical transition process yet means that oftentimes, you notice a lot of small things about yourself that don't quite match with the people who were born as the gender you identify with. I noticed a lot of those things when I started paying closer attention to my brother. And without even really thinking about it, I started doing things the way he did. I paid attention to things like the way he carries himself, the way he dresses, and the way he interacts with people, and I adjusted when I saw that I was doing any of those things in a way that could have lead to me being interpreted as a female.

Today, over a year has passed since I first told anyone that I'm actually a boy. I walk taller and with longer strides, I know how to dress myself to feel comfortable while also not drawing attention to the fact that my body is different from that of most guys, and I am straightforward and confident in my interactions with people. I have my brother to thank for almost all of the progress I've made when it comes to those little things. He taught me so much without ever knowing he was doing so.

I'm incredibly grateful to have such a great and understanding young man to look to. My brother has loved and accepted me without condition since he was born, and not a lot of transgender people get that lucky. Not a lot of people in general get that lucky. I've never ceased to be amazed by him since that first day. Fifteen years ago, I was given a little brother. Now, I have a role model who gives me his hand-me-downs. And I could not possibly be more proud, as a big brother.

I love you, little man.