"If you require any evidence that femininity can be more fierce and dangerous than masculinity, all you need to do is ask the average man to hold your handbag or a bouquet of flowers for a minute, and watch how far away he holds it from his body. Or tell him that you would like to put your lipstick on him and watch how fast he runs off in the other direction. In a world where masculinity is respected and femininity is regularly dismissed, it takes an enormous amount of strength and confidence for any person, whether female or male-bodied, to embrace their feminine self."
—Julia Serano

Well, I can certainly see her point. But I never considered myself particularly strong, confident, or courageous in transitioning. For me, it was almost an unthinking reaction to an intolerable situation…the way you flee a burning building or run away from a poisonous snake. My so-called "male identity" being the burning building, the poisonous snake. I transitioned not as an act of defiance or courage or even self-assertion. I did it for what could just as easily be seen as the most instinctive, even cowardly of motivations. I did it to save my life.