It started subtly — a discomfort that didn’t fit the usual model of teenage insecurity. Back then, trans man William Murray thought it was just about his height or his voice, but later realized it was something deeper. It was a dissonance between who he was and how the world saw him.
Murray was only in sixth grade when he first sensed that disconnect but he couldn’t yet explain why.
“I started having feelings about my body — that I didn’t like my body,” he said. "I had certain insecurities that didn’t really make sense for a girl to have like I thought I was too short. I thought my voice was not deep enough.”
At the time, William was living as a girl and began to feel uncomfortable with that perception.
“Like, those aren't the kind of things a girl would usually want to have,” Murray reflected.
It was not until senior year of high school that he could piece together what those feelings meant. As he started to learn more about transgender people, he realized why those feelings had been there.
“At first, I honestly kind of hated transgender people,” he said. “I'm going to be so honest because I was jealous. Like I looked at them and I thought, how come they get to do it and I don't? I want to transition.”
After realizing he could transition, he started with small changes.
“Around November, I switched out my wardrobe for more masculine stuff,” Murray said. “And I was thinking about name changes.”
He knew that transitioning medically was something he wanted to do, so after turning 18, he began the process.
After having a discussion with his doctor about transitioning, and being turned down, he turned to the Spectrum Center in Hattiesburg to begin testosterone treatment to develop male characteristics. Still, Murray’s guardians continue to call him by his birth name and use she/her pronouns, even in public.
“And like, it's especially annoying when we're in public, and I look like a man,” Murray said. “Like, it's kind of awkward because it confuses people.”
Although the counseling department wasn’t able to support him with the mental health struggles he was facing at the start of the semester, he found understanding among his campus friends.
“Honestly, it's really supporting for someone to just be visible,” he said. “To just know that if I have a problem regarding my gender or sexuality or something, that there are people that I can go talk to, and if I'm facing some kind of discrimination, there's people I can go talk to about it, and they'll understand me.”
Rachell Pica, a fellow trans student and one of William’s close friends, said they had noticed that he has become more confident in himself.
"He's more expressive with what he wears or what he does. Yeah, just more expressive, more confident, for sure," they added.
William has gained self-assurance, and he hopes to improve the lives of trans people.
“Well, I hope to go to law school one day, I hope,” he said. “And I want to use my law degree to maybe drive public policy that will make life easier for trans people and make changes in the government to make our lives easier.”
Pica admires William’s goals.
“I think it's cool. I think it's great that it's not just a regular cisgender person,” they said. “And that it didn't — like, you know — I understand that they want to help, but at the end of the day, someone who's in the same chair as other people and has gone through what other people have gone through, are more likely to resonate with people. And, also, just having someone out there, it's like, this is nice. It makes me feel more comfortable. It makes me feel more safe. It makes me feel more seen. Yeah, that's what I would say.”
