In first grade, when a boy called me by my “real name” after getting a glimpse of my school bus pass, I did, in fact, try to report it as bullying. It was so hurtful and invalidating, which is why I acted the way I did. Hearing my legal and preferred names tossed around interchangeably was like I was living a double life. Situations like these only worsened as I grew older. I cried when the wrong name was read at my fifth grade graduation, and was extremely embarrassed when I was told in order for my name to be printed the way I wish in my high school yearbook, I must have a note from a parent.