This is what happens when it's late at night and you're thinking about how poorly some fiction can reflect reality while you also have the song That's Not How This Story Goes from Netflix's A Series of Unfortunate Events stuck in your head.
As a child, Jean believes that she is born for lands of stardust and eerie pipes echoing through moonlit mountains, as the tree and shadow spirits dance all night long. She belongs to places where music is magic and the universe is in harmony with itself, a place where all dissonance can be fixed through quests and great deeds of valor. She wants solitude in dewy mornings, and afternoons of sunlight and company, and revelry-filled evenings where the flames climb higher as the sky grows darker, until they too die down to the warm, glowing embers.
She wants to live in a world of adventure and astonishment, of the impossible and unbelievable. She wants a world where she will never grow bored because each day is different and exciting.
If Jean's life was a fairytale, she would open a door to a fantasy land, where she would defeat great evil and enjoy great beauty, without a second glance back.
That's not how this story goes.
...
Jean wishes she could feel strong and confident, but she is too uncertain, too aware of her differences, too tentative to stand out.
Don't cause trouble, her parents always say. Go with the flow, not against it.
Jean obeys.
There is something wrong about trying to pretend to like the things she's supposed to like, romance and knights in shining armor, fashion and being a girl. Just as wrong as pretending she didn't grow up with two languages in her house, two cultures which mix comfortably within herself but clash in the outside world. So she doesn't pretend, doesn't lie.
But she parade it either. She just hides.
If Jean's life was a Disney film, she would feel comfortable in her own skin, ready to fight the monster, smash expectations, save the kingdom, and marry the Prince.
That's not how this story goes.
...
Jean finds truth ringing within herself (himself?) when she (he?) reads an article about a trans man. There is familiarity in the description of being trapped in a body and by people's perceptions of it. Maybe if he's trans it makes sense why he tried to distance himself from femininity, despite actually enjoying many things associated with it. He enjoys masculine things too, and the thought of not being a 'she' is exhilarating.
He considers going by Jean, the French pronunciation of the masculine name, rather than the feminine anglicized version he had been called. The spelling wouldn't even need to change.
Still, there's something not quite right about it, and Jean is hesitant to reach out and take the word 'male.' He never wanted to be a man. He just doesn't want to be a girl.
If Jean's life was a transgender narrative constructed online by cis people through the overlap of the loudest trans voices, he would have always known he was a boy, he would be trapped in the wrong body, he would have hated dolls and loved trucks.
That's not how this story goes.
...
Jean is the main character of his own narrative; that's the way perspective works. Everything he sees is from his own point of view. Comparison is difficult, since he only has one experience to go by.
Other people consider him decently smart, but Jean doesn't know what that truly means. He only knows that his mind works like it always has. Like everybody, he has his strengths and weaknesses. He doesn't know which strengths count more, if they are good enough to gain him a happy life. Too much of living is luck and circumstance to know.
Jean loves languages; he is good with these. Words can fit so beautifully together, both in meaning and sound. Words can be flowing and patterned and imperfect but also convey a thought, a feeling, an idea to a million others. Nothing else human made is as wonderful as the way that they communicate.
He loves the way a group of syllables can mean nothing to one person yet mean everything to another, the way that a language can shape a culture just as much as a culture can shape a language, the way the origins of words and the structure of its grammar can tell the history of a language's people.
His parents advise him to look for careers with better, more reliable pay than poetry and linguistics, but they don't push him when he refuses to budge.
Despite it all, Jean has a logical, inquisitive mind, but all the rigidness of mandatory science and math classes has turned him away from those paths in life, even though there are many lucrative options there. If he tried harder, his teachers say that he could be a scientist or a mathematician. Jean tries, but it's not enough.
If Jean's life was a movie, he would be the nerdy sidekick, the mathematically talented hacker. Maybe he'd be the evil ninja or the wise dragon-themed mentor, but Jean thinks those are too much of a stretch. (In the society portrayed by Hollywood, the options for East Asians are limited.)
That's not how this story goes.
...
The next time Jean has his hair trimmed, he tries to convince his mother to cut it all off. He likes his long hair, most of the time, but he wants to try living without it to see if he likes it better without it. He wants to appear more masculine. His mother refuses, claiming that Westerners cannot correctly cut Asian hair, citing several examples. Jean doesn't want a terrible haircut and doesn't know how to argue the point.
Jean doesn't ask how his father keeps his hair short, even as the weight of his perception crushes down on him.
(Much later, Jean finally asks, and his mother say that his father's hair was first cut by Asians. All the American barbers must do is trim it, which is far easier than giving it a completely different style.)
When he finally gains the courage, Jean tells his closest friends that he isn't a girl and would rather be called 'he' than 'she.' His success, their acceptance, thrills him. Then he tells some friends that he's less close to. And then a couple acquaintances he thinks are decent, liberal people. And then his parents. He doesn't tell them much and doesn't ask for anything to change in the way that they treat him.
They assure him of their unconditional love and support, but they still refer as their daughter and occasionally try to push him into being more feminine.
It takes him a long time before he can convince himself to tell them to stop. When he does, there's less drama than he expected. Many uncomfortable questions are asked, many opinions are spoken that make him cringe, but they promise to change their behavior. And for the most part, they do.
If Jean's life was an angsty coming out novel, his reveal would be the result of intense consideration, after weeks of turning away from self-hatred and being pushed out of hiding. The coming out itself would be dramatic and tear-filled with confessions of love (either familial or romantic depending on the person he came out to). It most certainly would not be a quiet explanation in the living room on a Saturday afternoon. There would be simple resolution, and once he was out, he would be Out, and somehow everybody would know.
That's not how this story goes.
...
Time passes, and Jean grows. It is not a sudden change, mostly small steps with one or two leaps to get things going.
Jean discovers the word nonbinary. They change their name to Jehan (the Old French version of Jean, not particularly gendered to modern Americans) and their pronouns to 'they.' They allow themself to become truer to themself, trying to do what they want to do rather than what they think they should do based on gender roles and how they perceive their own gender. They try to be braver, less embarrassed the public's perceptions. It's not an easy task, overcoming a lifetime of ingrained belief.
They learn to not aim for silence. Speaking out at the right moments changes things more than doing nothing ever could. Jehan comes out more, fights harder for their own recognition and respect. The hardest fight is convincing themself that the fight is worth it. The more battles they win, the more confident they get. But it's still a war they wage inside each time they speak. It helps that they can expect more support from their friends and communities than they could before they surrounded themself with the kind of people who would do more than accept them.
They learn about asexuality and aromanticism and join their high school LGBTQ+ club. It comes from a realization that loving love does not mean experiencing it and that maybe they would be better off more actively participating in the community. They learn how to break their timid shell to stand up for the things that really matter, first for the sake of their friends or even strangers. Then for themself.
If Jehan's life was a coming of age tale, there would be a life-altering event or person that leads to a profound realization about life. There would be romance and one moment or change that marks the line between childhood and adult. There would be something that makes them fully a man or fully a woman.
That's not how this story goes.
...
In college, things become even better. A couple of their high school friends go to the same place they do. But they meet others there too and they all form a different, larger, more passionate and active group. Les Amis, they call themselves. There, Jehan finds a place to fit in as a queer person of color.
New perspectives come into their life and they continue to shape their priorities and their ideas on how to be an effective activist. Their bursts of sudden anger and strength become more controlled, more purposeful and less reckless as they mature and learn.
What people don't always understand is that they were not born as the serpent underneath the innocent flower or the sword clothed in silk. Their bravery was forged in the fires of necessity and sharpened by their exhausted frustration at the world. This makes their anger all the deadlier, their kindness all the stronger.
They find more people to unleash this quiet strength upon, but also more people to unleash it for. More bonds are created with others, some meaningful, others not. They learn the pros and cons of living away from parents and discover first-hand a new definition of independence.
One of the new people closest to them is their roommate. They meet Bahorel by literally falling on top of him during the freshman orientation. After some apologies, they discover that he still needs to find someone to room within the same building Jehan plans on living in. The two of them quickly become close friends. In many ways, Bahorel is their opposite, a person who could and would fight anyone, who would tear down systems of oppression with his bare hands, yet he is the most loyal and kind person Jehan knows.
If Jehan's life was a fanfiction, Bahorel and Jehan would fall in love over the long drawn out course of the year, as their shared friend group plotted to push them together. They would defeat some minor evil, a homophobic classmate, perhaps, or their insecurity about relationships, or an abusive ex. Jehan would gain more friends and become closer to the ones they already have. The last part is true, but as for the rest...
That's not how this story goes.
...
After college, Jehan's friends follow a dozen different paths. They all still meet when they can, and they promise to never give up trying to improve the world and reduce injustice.
The world is far from perfect: their country's government is faulty, the public's views and prejudices need to be changed, the systems in place don't account for the people who aren't already near the top. Les Amis plan on doing their best to fix it. It isn't something that can be done overnight or by doing one thing. Each person in the group has different talents, different amounts of time and effort that they can afford to give the cause, different issues that are on the forefront of their mind.
Jehan goes to protests and rallies when they can. They always vote. They try to point out and stand up against bigotry and unfairness if they think it will do anything. They donate some money to charities and causes when they can, but not as much as they would like to.
It isn't just against towers of societal injustice that they fight. They try to make life better for everyone they meet, acting friendly despite their shyness, leaving positive reviews and comments, bringing cookies to work, smiling at strangers, and all the little things that they hope improves the day of a few people.
If Jehan's life was a dystopia, they would be fighting an overpowered, obviously evil government that leaves all people equally brainwashed and without rights (except for a few at the top). They would be part of an underground Resistance, using guerilla tactics and political manipulation, while also navigating a love triangle.
That's not how this story goes.
...
Jehan's life is not a story.
There is no beginning or end, except birth and someday death. There is no plot or rising action or climax, only the next day and the next day and the next.
Stories are based on life, so Jehan's life cannot help but draw near one existing story or another for each separate event or emotion. But it isn't defined by these tropes and predictable clichés.
As much as Jehan dreamed of being a storybook character as a child, they much prefer it this way. There is no other person, no other circumstances that could create the Jehan that they are now. They are proud to have the complicated, unpredictable, unquantifiable life that they have. It follows its own narrative in a way that could not be predicted by any author. It is too normal of a life, too unique, too mundane, too different to be captured by imagination.
Their life is not a tale, or book, or TV show, or movie, or anything else but real, belonging solely to them. It follows no set paths of storytelling. There are no writers, no narrators, no producers, no actors, only chance and the decisions and actions Jehan makes.
They make mistakes, they achieve successes, and not all of these lead to a bigger point. Their future is uncertain without the reliability of common storytelling trends, but so is their personality, since they do not fall neatly into the boxes of stereotypes that the media depends on so much.
If their life was produced by Disney or Hollywood, if it was found on the internet, if it was written by a straight white person, if it was a tale passed on and told only to children, if their life was fiction, it would be a different story. But it isn't. Their life is real.
And Jehan gets to decide how their story goes.