The former gas engineer putting working-class trans lives centre-stage
Jaden Adams
The former gas engineer putting working-class trans lives centre-stage
Jaden Adams
What I had been asked to do was straightforward enough…
Standing on the stage in an improv class with the eyes of the room upon me I suddenly froze. What I had been asked to do was straightforward enough: the task was to play a man standing in a lift. So why was I shaking and unable to speak even a single word?
It had already been two years since the start of my physical transition at the age of 25 and I was feeling happier in my body than ever before. But those voices were still there in my head telling me to rein it in and not go too far with ‘acting’ like a man.
It took a minute or two – you could cut the tension in the room with a knife – but finally, the reality of the situation sank in and my brain switched into gear again. I remembered that I no longer needed to think about whether or not it was OK to act like a man, I could just be a man.
My fear lifted as I said to myself “It’s OK, you know who you are.”
I was at peace with myself as an actor and as a man, and I was finally ready to take on the roles I knew I could excel at.
My body was in total disconnect and bore no resemblance to the person I knew myself to be.
I studied acting when I was 18 years old in 2011 at Manchester College. Prior to my transition, playing female parts felt like a double act to me. I asked myself ‘How difficult can it be to act female when you have a female body?’ But the reality was, I just couldn’t do it authentically. To me, acting is about embodying a role within your bones, finding that precise balance where you and the character become one, and the body mind and spirit are in harmony. But as a trans man (though I did not yet realise this) I was only working with my mind and spirit. My body was in total disconnect and bore no resemblance to the person I knew myself to be. Playing a female role may have looked straightforward enough to the outside observer – but inside, it was causing me torment. Conversely, trying out as male characters was not any better; my mind and spirit felt free but my body was yearning to embody the physicality of the role.
I now understand that this was gender-dysphoria, …
… but back then I didn’t have the words for it, or the understanding or self-compassion. All I knew was nothing felt right. So I left my course, gave up on my acting dreams and went to work full-time in a plumbers’ merchant’s as now I was no longer a student, and I desperately needed to earn some money. I eventually trained as a gas engineer and plumber. I completed my apprenticeship with a housing association, and a couple of years later, started working in my ‘proper job’ with a team of mostly older men. But after six years, I knew there was more to me that I wanted to explore, and to do that, I had to leave everything behind and start again.
So I left to go travelling for the best part of a year, spending time in Canada and South Asia. Maybe the answer to who I really was could be found out there?
Being in a new environment where no one knew me, I was finally able to be me without having to play along with all the stories of people who thought they knew me, and by shedding the many skins I had grown accustomed to wearing for others but not for myself, I was finally able to put a name to the feelings I had carried around for so long.
Once I was feeling strong enough, I made the decision to physically transition.
It wasn’t until I was turned 25 – seven years after dropping out of my drama course – that I realised why acting hadn’t worked out for me. I didn’t just feel uncomfortable playing a woman on stage – I was also uncomfortable with the continuing pretence that I was female off-stage. I had, at last, come to the understanding that I was a trans man.
I lived with this new clarity for two years while I worked out what it was going to mean for my life, for my family and friends, for my job, as I knew it was going to be a tough journey. Once I was feeling strong enough, I made the decision to physically transition. I saved and saved and funded all my own treatment because of the lengthy wait for NHS support. As it turned out, any worries I had about the reaction of my colleagues were completely unfounded. Despite working in a very traditionally male environment, they were wonderful and supportive throughout. My family was also accepting – after a few initial doubts.
The hardest part for me came with working in people’s homes every day as a gas engineer. I faced constant questions about my appearance, and transition, and was continually misgendered, sometimes accidentally, other times on purpose. It was hard to keep a smile on my face, do my job and keep myself emotionally and, sometimes, physically safe. I would be called a mixture of he and she by different people sometimes even in the same home, some accepting but curious, others openly disapproving and critical.
As my appearance and voice continued to change, I quickly learned how to identify and navigate the reactions of the people whose houses I was working in, answering all their questions, explaining far too many personal details, sometimes straight-out lying and saying I was just ‘butch’ when a situation felt too threatening , facing every fear and uncomfortable situation head-on.
And that’s when it hit me. One morning in the small hours, I jumped up and shouted out to myself: ‘I’ll write my own show!’
Two years into my physical transition, I knew I felt confident enough to start performing again. The acting-bug had never gone away and I thought about it often. While recovering from ‘top surgery’, I had once again begun performing to myself in the mirror – something I’d done since I was a young child. I had years of suppressed creativity bursting to get out. I yearned to play complex, challenging characters with emotional intensity. I didn’t just want one role, I wanted them all! But there weren’t exactly many opportunities for northern working-class trans-male actors up for grabs.
And that’s when it hit me. One morning in the small hours, I jumped up and shouted out to myself: ‘I’ll write my own show!’
I was brought up on a council estate in Oldham, Greater Manchester, and I’ve met so many fascinating characters throughout my life. I could draw on those experiences and channel them into a one-man show. But it wasn’t just a vehicle for me to take on all the roles I craved, the show would raise awareness around working class transgender lives.
So now, here I am, touring my solo show Transparency, which debuted at Greater Manchester Fringe in July and then played Camden Fringe the following month. Throughout Autumn 2023, I’m taking it all over the country, including to Bristol, Huddersfield and Swindon. I play five characters, including two women.
Remarkably, instead of feeling ashamed of femininity, I can now embrace it as an actor and be limitless in the expression of my art. Now, well into my transition, the second I walk on stage, I know that I am being truly represented by my own body. It’s supporting me and holding me up, no longer fighting against me or betraying me. My body now reflects the peace I feel in my mind, gives me space to breathe and enjoy the role I am playing on stage. The mental filters that had held my inner-self hostage no longer exist.
This is my advice to anyone who may not feel comfortable within themselves, whatever the reason. ‘Feel your authenticity and embrace it. Face the difficult discussions head-on and be true to your beliefs’. Your difference is your power. When you accept it, embrace it and nurture it, that’s when you will start to be able to fly.
A version of this article was first published on metro.co.uk
Catch up with the Transparency tour at transparencysolo.info