Becoming Jade

The Beginning

I was around twelve when something quietly ignited inside me — something I didn’t have the words for at the time. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It started with a pair of heels.

They belonged to my aunt. I never touched them, never dared try them on. But I watched them. I admired their shape, their color, their height. I remember thinking they were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen — elegant, powerful, mysterious — and I kept that feeling deep inside, hidden even from myself.

Over time, the memory faded a little, like childhood dreams tend to do. But it never really disappeared.

Hints and Echoes

A couple of years later, when adolescence brought questions, hormones, and contradictions, I had another moment I’ve never quite forgotten. I was with a friend, and we were digging through his stepmother’s drawer, more out of curiosity than mischief. Among the folded clothes, there were these soft, delicate pieces of lingerie — lace, satin, tiny little strings — and just like with the heels, I felt that same pull.

It wasn’t about desire, not exactly. It was about beauty. About something I couldn’t name yet but that felt familiar and thrilling. Once again, I said nothing. I moved on. But those two moments stayed with me like bookmarks in the story of who I would become.

Desire in Disguise

In my twenties, those memories began to wake up again, slowly but surely. I started browsing women’s shoe websites late at night, drawn to stilettos I’d never wear — at least not in public. Sometimes, I even bought them — for my girlfriend. I told myself it was just a gift, something nice for her… but deep down, I knew I loved seeing her wear the kind of heels I secretly dreamed of trying on myself.

Then one day, I saw them: pink stilettos, cheap and flashy, on a random website. They were in my size. I stared at them for days. Eventually, I clicked “order,” only to cancel a day later in a moment of panic. What the hell are you doing? I remember asking myself. But the thought of those shoes never left me. So I went back, placed the order again — and this time, I didn’t cancel.

My first pair of heels – a quiet revolution in pink.

They took a month to arrive, and I checked the tracking obsessively. When they finally did, I had to pay unexpected customs fees, but I didn’t care. I held the box like it contained treasure. Because for me, it did.

First Steps

The first time I put them on, I was alone in the house. I could barely stand — they were high, unforgiving, impossible to walk in. But I didn’t care about that either. I stood in front of the mirror, wobbling and wide-eyed, and I smiled. Something about it felt right, even if it didn’t yet make sense.

That night, I created an Instagram account just for high heels, posting the pairs I loved the most. I didn’t keep it for long, but it was the first time I allowed a small piece of that secret to exist outside of me.

And little by little, I started wondering what would go with those heels. The next step came naturally: a legging. I picked a burgundy one — not my best fashion moment, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t feel ridiculous. I felt good. Attractive. Feminine. There was still so much I didn’t understand, but I was starting to recognize something real.

Becoming Someone Else

At some point, I began exploring again — slowly, secretly. I bought a blonde wig, a little black top, a skirt, tights, a bra I stuffed with socks or tissues. I “borrowed” makeup from my sister (sorry, not sorry). I spent nights watching makeup tutorials, pausing, rewinding, trying again.

The first time I put it all together — makeup, wig, outfit — I looked in the mirror and saw her. A version of me I had never met before, but instantly knew.

That moment was overwhelming. I didn’t take pictures. I didn’t need to. I just wanted to feel her, to exist in that skin, even for a little while. I walked around the house in my heels, barely stable, and spent what felt like forever just looking at myself — seeing myself — maybe for the first time.

Her Name Was Annia

Eventually, I created a crossdressing Discord account and joined a few communities. For the first time, I felt seen, understood, welcomed. I chose the name “Annia.” I don’t remember exactly why. I just liked the way it sounded.

For two years, I built a little wardrobe. I took photos. I connected with others like me. I found joy in it — real joy. But I also carried guilt, and doubt, and the sense that what I was doing wasn’t “normal.” Life caught up with me, and one day, I had to stop. I sold everything. I erased traces. I disappeared.

That was the end of Annia.

And Then… Jade

But desire doesn’t vanish. It waits quietly in the corners of who you are. And sometime around 2023, it found its way back to me.

This time, I didn’t want to go back to who I was. I wanted to move forward. I wanted a fresh start — something deliberate, authentic. So I began again. New heels, new clothes, new makeup… and a new name.

I became Jade.

This time, everything was mine. My style grew. My confidence grew. I practiced, tried, failed, improved, and tried again. I learned how to take photos I’m proud of. I figured out what made me feel beautiful — elegant, sexy, strong. Jade wasn’t just a new version of me. She was me, finally allowed to bloom.

Still Hidden, Still Here

Very few people know this side of me. It’s still a secret — a quiet, beautiful one. Not because I’m ashamed, but because the world isn’t always kind to people like us. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to walk through the world as Jade, confidently, openly. That’s my dream — to feel admired, seen, and safe. To just exist without fear.

Until then, I keep evolving. I’ve gone through different versions of myself — from the early Annia days, to the casual and sometimes chaotic versions of Jade, to something more refined and feminine. Each phase brings me closer to the woman I want to be.

To You, If You’re Like Me

If you’ve ever felt like this — unsure, curious, scared, or excited — I want to say something very simple: you’re not alone.

Start slow, or jump right in. Do what feels right. But don’t ignore yourself. Don’t bury your spark. You have every right to explore, to create, to become.

There’s a whole community waiting for you, with open arms and shared stories. We’re all on the same ocean, even if we’re steering different ships.

So here’s my advice: be brave. Be soft. Be you.

You’ve got this, girl 💖