This is probably the hardest blog post I will ever write. It challenges assumptions others may have made about me. But I have to get these words out there, because this is how things are.

I am Luci. You might have thought that was a screenname, but as of today it is actually my legal name. I am Luci André, and before I was known as Håkon André (which I will soon start to refer to as my dead name). My pronouns are they/them, and I identify as non-binary. I am a person.

Gender identity is confusing, and for as long as I can remember I have found myself struggling with mine. I feel like I have constantly been playing a role, trying to fit into a box that doesn’t quite fit. For a long time I thought most people felt this way, but as I entered adulthood I realised that was not the case. Up until a few years ago I didn’t even have a language to describe how I felt.

Society has long been built on a binary view of gender, often assuming rigid roles, behaviors, and even clothing that align with the concepts of ‘male’ and ‘female.’ These expectations can be restrictive and alienating for those of us who don’t fit neatly into these boxes.

While society at large often enforces a binary view of gender, I am fortunate to live in Norway, where many gendered associations have faded over the years. In school, we were even taught about being transgender and how it’s a natural part of human diversity. Yet, those lessons didn’t help me understand my own feelings because I wasn’t trans—not in the sense of feeling that I should fit into the opposite body type. At the same time, I experienced a deep discomfort in my body—a feeling I now understand as body dysmorphia. It’s a complex experience: not fully aligning with one gender, yet still grappling with how societal expectations shaped my perception of myself.

In 2021, I reached a breaking point after a painful breakup and the added stress of isolation during Covid. I decided to seek help and asked my doctor for a referral to a psychologist. That decision led me to one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met—someone who not only helped me process my feelings but also gave me the courage to begin this journey of self-discovery.

After some months of therapy, moving away and starting a new job I found the time to focus on myself again. So I started dating and got together with a transmale for a few months. Even though that didn’t work out he gave me some wonderful insight in his own gender journey, which helped me even more to put words on how I was feeling.

I started experimenting with pronouns, switching from he/him to they/them. Only among my closest friends at first, and then to more and more people. It was a small change, but it felt liberating. It felt like I was finally able to express myself in a way that felt authentic. Of course, not everyone understood or respected my choice, and I expect I will have to face even more of that now that I am finally out in the open. But the more I explore my gender identity, the more confident and comfortable I feel in my own skin.

My closest friends have called me Luci for years, and that name has always given me a sense of confidence and authenticity. When I shared with them that I wanted to change my legal name to better reflect who I am, most of them encouraged me to choose Luci. They told me it was already the name of the person they knew and cared for—the person I truly am. Changing my name feels like the ultimate affirmation of self-acceptance. My journey is far from over, and I know it will continue to evolve and grow. But for now, I am deeply grateful for the language and the supportive community that have empowered me to explore my identity and express myself more fully.

To anyone reading this who is struggling with their own identity, know that it’s okay to take your time, to explore, and to redefine yourself. Self-discovery is a journey, not a race, and it’s one we all deserve to take on our own terms.

-Luci André