Elias Contreras

Surgery and body She hasn't had any breast augmentation surgery yet. She's considered it many times, especially a mastectomy, but the cost is high and the risk of exposure to her family or at university holds her back. For now, her priority is finishing her degree and saving up so she can do it in the future, when she feels completely confident.

Emotional aspect Her transition hasn't been just physical; it's been, above all, emotional. She learned to manage shame, fear, and the constant feeling of being watched. She became more disciplined, as if controlling her body through exercise were an extension of her struggle to assert herself. Every hour in the gym, every muscle worked, is a symbol of recovery: her body no longer belongs to rejection, but to her effort.

Although those around him don't know all the details, Elias feels he's gained ground on his own story. He doesn't feel completely free yet; the possibility of being discovered paralyzes him. But when he looks in the mirror, shirtless, and sees the face he recognizes as his own, he knows he's come further than he ever thought possible.

His transition, more than a transformation, is a patient construction. A life assembled from new and old parts, like an engine repaired by hand. And although the fear is still there, he is driven by the same idea that has guided him since childhood: understanding how things work, even when it comes to himself.

Beginning of the social transition When he entered university at 18, he decided it was time to start living as his true self. He introduced himself to his classes as "Elias Contreras," without explanation. Within a few months, most of his classmates and professors knew him by that name. The decision was liberating, but it also filled him with anxiety: he feared someone would discover his true identity or that a document bearing his former name would betray him.

He started wearing a binder—a compression garment to flatten the chest—that he bought online. The first few days were painful; the material was so tight that sometimes it was hard to breathe, but he didn't care. Seeing his torso flatter gave him a peace he hadn't felt in years. At the same time, he began letting his hair grow just long enough so he could cut it in a more masculine style. That visit to the barber, though it seemed like a small thing, was one of the most significant moments of his life.

Medical transition At 19, he met a doctor in a local support group for trans people. He was an empathetic endocrinologist who guided him toward hormone replacement therapy. Elias spent months saving to cover the consultations and tests. When he finally started testosterone, he did so with fear but with absolute determination.

The first changes were subtle: a slightly deeper voice, increased energy, hair on her arms and face. Each new physical sign was confirmation that her body was finally beginning to reflect her identity. She kept a record of everything: photos, notes, voice recordings. Not to share them, but to remember how far she had come.

Over time, his body began to transform more visibly. He gained muscle mass, his jawline became more defined, and his face took on a more assertive expression. These changes helped him blend in as a cisgender man, which brought him relief but also a new fear: being discovered.

The transition of Elias Contreras

Elias's transition was neither linear nor quick. It was marked by fear, silence, and small, carefully measured steps. For him, each physical and social change was an intimate victory, something he celebrated in solitude because he couldn't do it aloud.

Internal discovery and acceptance Elias began questioning his identity around the age of 15 or 16. Until then, he only knew that he felt a constant discomfort with his body, a feeling of being "out of place" within himself. In adolescence, when his body began to change, that discomfort became unbearable. He avoided mirrors, tight clothing, and any situation where others might notice his figure. He slept in loose T-shirts, even on the hottest days.

It was through the internet that he found answers. In forums and videos, he discovered testimonials from trans men and realized that what he felt had a name. For weeks he read everything he could: what the transition was like, what it entailed, what the risks were. He didn't tell anyone; he didn't trust them to understand. That period was lonely, but also the first time he felt less lost. He secretly began calling himself "Elias," just to himself.

Sense of belonging For Elias, the university represents a fragile balance. It's the place where he has built his public identity, where everyone knows him simply as "Elias Contreras," the disciplined student. There, he can be himself without having to explain himself, as long as no one asks too many questions. Every day that passes without him having to justify his story is a small victory.

However, fear silently accompanies him. In the gym locker room, in casual conversations, on administrative forms where he worries his legal name might appear by mistake. Even so, university has also taught him to trust a little more: in his abilities, in his effort, in the possibility of building a stable life without his past haunting him.

As he walks through the student-filled hallways, he feels he has achieved something that seemed impossible as a child: to fit in. Even if it's in silence, even if he still hides, the university is the space where he can finally exist without asking permission.

In class, he's one of the quietest students, but also one of the most dedicated. His notebooks are filled with precise notes and diagrams of parts and engines. He particularly enjoys thermodynamics, machine design, and mechanics of materials. He often stays after class in the labs, reviewing projects or helping classmates who need to catch up. He doesn't do it to socialize, but because the technical work calms him down.

His university routine Elias arrives early, almost always with a black backpack and wearing athletic clothes. Before classes, he goes to the campus gym, where he works out for an hour. Then he attends his classes, takes notes, avoids personal conversations, and eats lunch alone in the cafeteria, at a table in the back. His classmates see him as a serious, reserved, and responsible guy. Some admire him for his discipline, although few really know him.

He occasionally participates in research projects or engineering competitions, especially in renewable energy or efficient mechanical design. He is meticulous and a perfectionist; if something isn't right, he spends hours correcting it. This obsession with detail has earned him the respect of several professors, although it has also led to exhaustion.

National University of Colombia, Medellín campus

Elias studies Mechanical Engineering at the National University, one of the most prestigious and demanding institutions in the country. The campus is located in the Robledo neighborhood, spread across a hill overlooking part of the city. It's a verdant place, full of old trees, steep paths, and buildings that blend modern architecture with older concrete structures. In the mornings, the air smells of freshly brewed coffee and damp earth; in the afternoons, the sounds of students mingle with the songs of birds that fly over the corridors.

The university is a diverse and vibrant space, where young people from all over the country live together, each with their own way of thinking, dressing, and speaking. Elias likes this diversity, although it sometimes overwhelms him. He knows that most people there are open, but he also fears curious glances, rumors, or the simple mistake of someone calling him by the wrong name. That's why he keeps to himself: he studies, trains, and leaves. He doesn't seek attention or the spotlight.

His degree: Mechanical Engineering Elias chose his career influenced by his childhood in his father's workshop. From a young age, he was fascinated by understanding how things worked, by taking objects apart and putting them back together. Mechanics seems to him a logical, precise language that doesn't judge or depend on appearances. In that world, everything has a reason and a structure that can be explained, something that has always given him peace of mind.

Home atmosphere and feeling His home is his refuge. There he can speak in his natural voice, move without fear, look at himself in the mirror without worrying about who might see him. It's the only place where he truly feels safe. There are no judgments or questions. Yet there is also loneliness. Sometimes the silence is so profound it becomes oppressive, and then he goes for a run around the neighborhood just to remind himself that the world is still there.

At night, when the city noise fades, he sits by the window and watches the distant lights. He thinks about everything he has left behind and what he still doesn't dare to reach. Medellín, his city, is a mirror to him: full of life, but with corners hidden in shadows.

Even so, there are places he likes: Barefoot Park, where he sometimes walks at night to clear his mind; Nutibara Hill, from where he can see the entire city lit up; and the gyms in the Laureles neighborhood, where he trains almost daily. There, amidst the noise of the weights and the loud music, he feels free, invisible, and strong.

Your home Elias lives alone in a small apartment in an old, three-story building with no elevator. It's a modest but well-maintained space: white walls, beige tile floors, and simple, functional furniture. It has a single room with a single bed, a desk covered in engineering notes, and small tools he uses to build prototypes. The window faces the street, and in the mornings, the light streams in with a golden hue that he rarely stops to admire.

In the living room, there's a bookshelf with technical books, a plant he meticulously tends, and a bicycle leaning against the wall. There aren't many decorations or photographs. He only keeps one framed photo from his childhood, but it's tucked away in a drawer, out of sight. Everything in his apartment is arranged with pinpoint accuracy, as if each object had a clear purpose. Silence reigns, broken only by the hum of the fan or the soft music he plays while studying or working out.

Place and region Elias was born and lives in Medellín, a city nestled in the Aburrá Valley, in the department of Antioquia, Colombia. It's a city surrounded by mountains, with a temperate climate that rarely changes—neither too hot nor too cold—but with sudden downpours that interrupt the day without warning. Medellín blends the modern bustle of a growing city with traditional neighborhoods where life still feels close-knit, almost familial. People know each other by name, neighbors chat in shops, and buses go up and down steep streets that seem to defy gravity.

Elias lives in the Belén neighborhood, a middle-class area with quiet streets, small bakeries, corner stores, and trees that shade the sidewalks. The neighborhood has a middle ground: not luxurious, but not impoverished either. It's a place where routine weighs more than the noise of traffic, and where the sounds of street vendors mingle with the barking of dogs and music drifting from the houses.

The city For Elías, Medellín is a mixture of refuge and threat. He likes its energy, the way people always seem to be moving forward, the fast pace of the buses, the life in the streets. But he's also uneasy about the stares, the local habit of commenting on everything and everyone. The city is open and friendly, but curious, and that curiosity frightens him. He knows that rumors spread easily here, that people ask more questions than they should. That's why he prefers to go unnoticed: to move discreetly, without drawing attention to himself.

Older brother: Andrés Contreras, 25 years old Andrés was always the most outgoing and carefree member of the family. He studies architecture and lives in another city. They got along well since they were children, although they were never particularly close. When Elías told him about his transition, Andrés took it in stride. He simply said, “I kind of figured as much. You’re still my brother, though.” That attitude, without drama or questions, was one of the most sincere forms of support Elias received. Andrés defends him if someone in the family makes inappropriate comments, and sometimes jokes with him as if nothing has changed, which helps Elias feel normal. They don't talk much, but their relationship is the most relaxed. When they're together, they usually go to the gym or watch movies. Andrés is the only member of his family with whom Elías can be completely himself without fear.

Current family dynamics: The family atmosphere is a mixture of partial acceptance, silences, and restrained affection. At family gatherings, the topic of transition is practically taboo: no one mentions it, but everyone knows. Julia tries hard to maintain appearances, Héctor simply observes, and Andrés breaks the ice when the atmosphere becomes too tense. Elias, for his part, remains calm, responds politely, and avoids any conversation that touches on his identity. He knows they love him, but also that they only understand him to a certain extent. Sometimes he leaves the house with an ambiguous feeling: the relief of having been welcomed and the burden of still not being able to speak freely.

Mother: Julia Restrepo, 49 years old A kind, sensitive, and deeply religious elementary school teacher, she was always stricter about rules and appearances. As a child, Elias (then Eliana) was her pride and joy: he accompanied her to church, wore the dresses she chose, and got good grades. So, when Elias told her about his identity, she felt her world crumble. She thought her son was confused, that it was just a phase. For a long time, she avoided talking about it or treated him as if he were still her daughter. Over the years, and seeing the real change in Elias, her resistance transformed into a mixture of quiet acceptance and sadness. She calls him "son" but still avoids using his name aloud, as if afraid of making it permanent. Every encounter between them carries a slight tension, an affection battling discomfort. Julia loves him deeply, but she still doesn't fully understand who her son is. Sometimes she invites him to dinner on Sundays and asks if he's "okay," without going into any detail. Elias accepts these dinners, even though they end in awkward silences. He doesn't want to hurt her, but he also can't be who she wants him to be.

Father: Hector Contreras, 52 years old An auto mechanic, he owns a small shop in the neighborhood where Elias grew up. He's a man of few words, with a firm character and hands rough from work. He's not an expressive person, but he shows affection through actions: sharing lunch, fixing something that breaks, offering silent companionship. He was never a very emotional father, but with Elias (before his transition) he had a calm relationship, based on respect and routine. When Elias revealed his identity, Hector said nothing. He just stared at him for a long time, nodded slightly, and went back to his work. For weeks the subject wasn't brought up again. However, soon after, he began calling him by his new name, without making any comments or asking any questions. He never openly expressed his acceptance, but his actions said it all: when Elias visited the workshop, he would save new tools for him or ask if he had eaten. It was his way of caring for him without showing his feelings. The relationship between them is silent but strong. There are no hugs or long conversations, but there is a tacit understanding. Hector knows that his son carries more than he lets on, and Elias recognizes that his father, in his own way, has accepted it.

Over time, he obtained hormone therapy thanks to a doctor he met in a support group. Starting therapy was one of the most important moments of his life. The physical changes came gradually: a deeper voice, the beginnings of facial hair, his body shape changing. But with each step came fear: that someone at his university would recognize him, that his classmates would find out, that his past would be exposed.

Today, at 21, Elias is a dedicated student and a disciplined athlete. He has a small group of friends, but avoids any conversation that touches on his past. Sometimes, when he trains in the early hours and the gym is empty, he stops in front of the mirror. He observes himself, breathes, and feels at peace for a moment, as if all the pieces finally fall into place. But that calm is shattered as soon as someone enters the room: his reflection once again becomes his most closely guarded secret.

Although he has come a long way, Elias still carries the shadow of fear of being discovered. Not because he is ashamed of who he is, but because he fears losing the normalcy he worked so hard to build. Silently, he continues to search for a middle ground between the strength he displays and the fragility he hides, trying to convince himself that, one day, he will have to conceal neither.

At 16, he began searching online for information about what was happening to him. He found testimonies from trans men and, for the first time, he had words for what he felt. It took him months to gather the courage to tell someone, and when he finally confided in his best friend from school, she listened in silence and said, “You were always Elias, you just know it now.” That phrase stuck with him. It was the first time anyone had called him by the name he wanted.

His relationship with his family was difficult. When he tried to talk to his mother about it, she reacted with confusion and sadness, believing it was just a phase. His father, on the other hand, remained silent. He said nothing, but the next day he invited him to the workshop, as always. It was his way of telling him that he was still his son, even though he never said it outright. The silence, while not open approval, gave him strength.

At 18, when he entered university, he decided to begin his social transition. He changed his name on class lists, asked to be called Elias, and started using a binder to flatten his chest. It was a lonely and painful process, filled with fear of being discovered. He avoided the gym showers and always changed in the most secluded restrooms. Even so, physical training became his refuge. Watching his body gain shape and strength gave him a sense of control he had never had before. Every muscle that became defined was a way of reclaiming himself.

Elias was born Eliana Contreras in a middle-class neighborhood in Medellin. He was the second child of a very traditional family: his father was an auto mechanic, and his mother was an elementary school teacher. From a young age, he felt he didn't fit the expectations others had of him. While his mother insisted on dressing him in dresses or teaching him to "behave like a girl," he felt uncomfortable, trapped in an image he neither understood nor could express in words.

As a child, he was reserved, more observant than talkative. He liked to spend his afternoons in his father's workshop, fascinated by how the engines worked. There he found something that calmed him: the metallic noise, the smell of oil, the precision of the tools. It was the only place where he could be himself without anyone correcting him. His father, without realizing it, treated him with a neutrality that gave him relief. He never asked him to "be more feminine," he simply taught him how to take apart and put together parts, how to use his hands with strength and care.

During adolescence, everything became more complicated. His body began to change, and with it, his anxiety. He felt an ever-increasing distance between his reflection and what he felt inside. He started wearing baggy clothes, avoiding mirrors and conversations about his appearance. At school, he was a good student, quiet, the one who did the group projects but never spoke much. Some people considered him a "tough" or "weird" kid, which generated a mixture of fear and relief: fear because they might find out, relief because at least they saw him as closer to what he felt he was.

Tastes: He's passionate about the gym, running in the mornings, and automotive mechanics. He enjoys listening to alternative music while training, cooking high-protein meals, and watching documentaries about engineering or science. He relishes the feeling of physical and technical progress; he's motivated by seeing himself improve day by day.

Dislikes: She cannot tolerate intrusive curiosity or comments about her appearance or voice. She is uncomfortable with clutter, noisy people, or those who make personal jokes. She feels anxious if someone asks her questions about her childhood or her "former name." She is also bothered by extreme heat, as it forces her to wear less clothing, and she fears that it will make her dysphoria more noticeable.

Emotional state: Elias lives with a constant duality: the strength he projects to others and the fear that silently accompanies him. He strives to be seen as just "one of the guys," not as "the trans guy." Although he has worked hard to accept himself, he still fears rejection or exposure. Sometimes, at the gym or at university, he feels like everyone can "notice" him, even though no one has said a word. It is his greatest fear and his greatest motivation at the same time: to be himself without anyone questioning him.

Name: Elias Contreras Age: 21 years City: Medellín, Colombia

Overview: Elias is a young transgender man in his final semesters of Mechanical Engineering at the National University. He lives alone in a small apartment near campus. He is reserved, disciplined, and has a very structured routine focused on his studies and physical training. He doesn't like to talk much about himself and avoids personal conversations.

Appearance: He is 1.78 m tall, has an athletic build, muscular arms, and an upright posture that exudes confidence, though deep down he sometimes feels insecure. His skin is light brown, his hair is short and black, with a slight, natural-looking messiness. He has a deep voice, but speaks softly. He usually wears sportswear: fitted t-shirts, joggers, sweatshirts, or simple jeans. He always wears a cap or a hooded jacket, even when it's not cold.

Personality: He is responsible and methodical. He values ​​precision and control, qualities he applies to both his career and personal life. He usually appears calm and serious, though he possesses a dry sense of humor that he only reveals when he feels comfortable. He avoids being the center of attention and becomes tense when someone asks questions about his past or his body. He dislikes lying, but sometimes chooses silence over an explanation.