Nearly three weeks had passed since I sent in my application form for what had quickly become known as ‘SYWTBAA’ online and, as time went on, I’d begun to put it further and further toward the back of my mind. In between my work, my meetings with Dr Clarke and my increasingly desperate efforts to keep my family in the dark about ‘Dina Williams,’ the idea of becoming Britain’s next ‘Angel,’ which had been a long shot to begin with, started to look more and more like a fairytale. This, however, didn’t stop me from exploring all the delights that being ‘Dina’ had to offer.

My time as ‘William’ was now strictly limited to video calls only. Every other second of the day, I presented as ‘Dina,’ ensuring that the outside matched the inside as closely as possible. I exclusively wore skirts and dresses at home, with only the occasional pair of girly leggings or a jumpsuit for bifurcated variety. I refined my make-up looks more and more, savouring the feeling of erasing my masculinity with every stroke of the brush. My hair continued to grow longer, allowing me to experiment with a greater variety of styles. And I continued to experiment with other aspects of my femininity as well. I tried different breast form and bra sizes, ranging from an A cup all the way up to an F cup, before eventually settling on 34C as ‘my size.’ I tried out padding on my hips and my backside, all while keeping my body totally hair-free below my eyebrows. I even began wearing sanitary pads in my underwear for five days out of every four weeks, such was my commitment to being ‘Dina.’ I found myself going to bed each night (usually wearing a nightie or a cute set of girly pyjamas, of course) giddy with excitement about what feminine delights the following day would bring.

And then, on Monday, the first of March, I got the surprise I hoped for, but never really expected.

‘Dear Miss Williams,’ the email read — the heading of ‘Miss Williams’ sending tingles through my body even as I stood wearing a short nightie, along with breast forms stuck to my chest. ‘We are pleased to offer you an audition for ‘So You Want To Be An Angel?’ on Saturday, the 6th of March 2021, at your chosen location of Edinburgh. Please follow the below link to open the location on Google Maps. We would ask that you attend the audition wearing your usual street clothes and your own make-up. While you will not wear a mask during the audition itself, you will still be required to follow local guidance regarding mask-wearing and social distancing. Your audition will include a series of questions by the Angels themselves via video link about your life and any hobbies or skills you may have. Please have a think about what hobbies you want to showcase to the Angels, and bring along any props or material you feel will assist you, but be aware that crew will not be able to assist you due to covid guidelines.’ I immediately started racking my brain, trying to think of what to take to the audition. Should I do a live make-up demonstration? I wasn’t a bad singer, should I do that instead? Maybe try my hand at stand-up comedy — my brothers had taken me to several shows at the Fringe Festival over the years, much to my parents’ disapproval. Due to my distraction, I almost didn’t notice the next sentence of the letter — though when I did read it, I immediately felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.

‘Please bring along two forms of ID, including one form of photo ID,’ the form read, making my heart sink. While I was committed full time to life as ‘Dina Williams,’ and although I was keeping up with my video sessions with my counsellor and had no intention of returning to life as ‘William Constable,’ the fact was that in the eyes of the law, that was exactly who I was. My driving licence and passport both bore the name ‘William Constable’ with the image of someone who was unquestionably male, and that wasn’t going to change in the few days I had before the audition. Defeated, I slumped down onto my sofa, my feminine adornments feeling more like a 'costume' and less like the 'real me' than ever. As I tossed my phone to one side, though, a thought entered my mind: was this how Jamie and Kelly would’ve reacted to every setback? They must have been in the same place I was during their lives, filling in forms as ‘Jamie’ and ‘Kelly’ when their IDs all said ‘James’ and ‘Kevin.’ It never stopped them from becoming — no, being — successful women. It never stopped them from being Angels. If any one ‘brand’ was likely to understand the journey I was on — or at least, wanted to be on — it was The Angels. I immediately picked my phone back up and wrote a letter explaining my situation before emailing it to Dr Clarke, asking her to sign it and return it in the hope that it would be accepted by the production team at the audition. And even if it wasn’t, I could at least say that I’d tried, and it would act as further evidence to my counsellor that I was sincere in my desire to transition.

…Especially because, as I suddenly realised, in order to attend the audition, I’d need to do the one thing that scared me more than anything else about my potential life as ‘Dina’ — leave the safety of my flat.

For the previous twelve months, going outside (or indeed, not going outside) as ‘Dina’ had been a moot point, as nobody was going outside or meeting up at all for any reason. Virtually all of the latest season of the Angels had been recorded in the models’ homes. However, with lockdown restrictions starting to ease, the streets were gradually getting busier — though I saw this as even more of an excuse to not venture out into them. I’d convinced myself that I never needed to go outside as ‘Dina’ — all of my shopping was delivered during times when I had to be ‘William,’ any exercise outside was done wearing androgynous workout gear and with social gatherings not happening, I didn't even need an excuse to stay at home all day and all night. Working from home was set to continue for the foreseeable future so to all intents and purposes, I was living the same life as any other woman my age, under the circumstances, anyway. Consciously, though, I knew that it wouldn’t last forever — though I had expected to get more than just a few days’ warning.

I put my phone back down and took several deep breaths as I tried to work out what I’d do next. Annoyingly, as it was a Monday, I had a heavier than usual workload — but this also meant that I wasn’t expected to appear on camera at any point. As long as I logged on to the work mainframe at 10am and had everything done by 5pm, no one would’ve questioned anything. Realising that this was the best opportunity I’d get before the audition, I headed through to my bathroom and, with my hands still trembling with nerves, started preparing myself for the unexpected day ahead.

I began as always by brushing my hair, though instead of tying it back, I let it hang over my shoulders, hoping to frame my face better. Trying my hardest to will my hands to stop trembling, I applied my usual concealer and foundation, before carefully applying my favourite mascara, thick eyeliner and bronze-coloured eyeshadow. Of course, my make-up was completed by a thick layer of my favourite nude matte lipstick.

After pulling on my usual padded bra and ‘tucking’ myself into a matching thong, I opened my wardrobe and examined my options. On the million-to-one chance that I was picked to take part in the show, I’d need to convey as ‘natural’ an image as possible, so my usual ‘enhancements’ like hip and buttock pads were left in their drawer, as was my waist cincher — months of exercise had left me slender enough that it wasn’t really needed. While I knew that most models were skinny, not all of the Angels were thin as a rake, reinforcing the 'natural is best' message. I briefly fiddled with my bra, wondering whether or not to shed that as well, before remembering that I didn’t want to be ‘too’ natural — as natural as 'male' was for me, anyway — and it wasn’t like cisgender women didn’t wear padded bras either. I didn’t just want to be ‘natural’, but also ‘naturally feminine’ — just like how I felt on the inside.

As it was still a chilly early spring day, I started with a pair of nearly opaque glossy black tights and a soft, lacy grey camisole. I looked through my drawers for an appropriate skirt to wear — my theme of ‘natural femininity’ meant there was no way I was going to wear trousers or even shorts — eventually settling on a dark grey skirt that ended four inches above my knee and was tight around my buttocks, but not tight enough to betray my ‘tuck.’ Picking out a top, however, took more consideration.

Initially, I’d considered wearing a bodysuit so as to give my ‘tuck’ a bit more assistance, but that plan was quickly abandoned as I’d always struggled with pulling on bodysuits over my head and fastening them at the crotch, which for the same reason meant that I didn’t own any with a turtleneck. This was significant because as I examined myself in my mirror, I suddenly became hyper aware of the lump sticking out of my throat. Obviously, it would need to be covered up or disguised, either by a choker or a turtleneck, and the latter quickly became my preferred option (despite my frustration at having only just applied my make-up). After much deliberation, I eventually settled on a clingy black long-sleeved top with a stretchy turtleneck and a cut-out below that gave the illusion of some cleavage. After pulling on a pair of cute ankle booties with a three-inch heel, I grabbed my handbag, gave my lipstick one final touch up and headed back to my workstation. After logging in and opening my projects, thirty minutes later I stood up, checked my reflection one last time and headed to my front door.

“Okay, ‘Dina,’ ” I whispered to myself. “You’ve got this.” After taking a deep breath, straightening my skirt and pulling on my warm winter coat, I opened my front door and shivered as the cold early Spring air touched my skin. Gingerly, I placed one foot out of the door, marvelling at the sound of my heels touching the outside concrete for the very first time. Feeling reinvigorated at having successfully taken the first step — both figuratively and literally — I locked my door behind me and made what was usually a short walk into the city centre, but on that day felt like a marathon. Not because of my heels, of course — I’d long since learned to comfortably walk in heels of up to five inches, let alone three — but because I was presenting ‘Dina’ to the world for the very first time, and I had no idea how the world would react.

…Though as it turned out, ‘the world’ reacted to ‘Dina’ just as it would any other attractive young woman. Every man I passed glanced in my direction — some furtively and some more overtly, but all seemingly focussing on my long, slender legs. Many of the younger women I passed looked at me with envy, while others studied me, as though they wanted to copy my look. Some even regarded me with the same look as the men did. And, of course, I got plenty of judgemental stares from the older members of society due to the length of my skirt. However, by the time I reached the city centre, even these encounters had started to feel second nature to me, and when I entered the convenience store I’d chosen for my ‘brunch’ (coffee shops and other cafes still being closed due to lockdown,) it didn’t even register for me that I was presenting as the ‘wrong’ gender.

“Anything else?” the girl behind the counter asked with a polite look in her eyes as I placed my coffee and chocolate bar on the counter, her mandatory face mask hiding her professional smile just as my mask was hiding my nervousness. Notably, though, she didn't appear to be remotely 'interested' in 'Dina' the way girls had in the past been 'interested' in 'William.'

“Hi,” I replied, praying that my practised feminine voice passed scrutiny. “That's all, thanks.”

“Sure,” the girl replied. “But,“ — I braced myself for the possibility of being ‘made’ — “if you need a bag, it'll be 10p, I'm afraid.”

“I'm okay,” I said with a smile. “I live not far from here.” I got my purse out of my bag, ready to pay with my card, only to suddenly freeze — my card was still in the name of ‘William Constable,’ after all. Thank God for contactless payment, I thought to myself as I tapped my card, took my drink and my snack and left the café, exhilarated that I’d passed my first ‘test’ with flying colours.

I quickly made my way back home, where I kicked off my heels, dropped my coat and handbag in the hallway and sat down at my workstation, sipping my still-warm drink as I tried to reconcile what had just happened. I’d left my home, ventured out into the ‘real world’ and even interacted with other people, all while dressed as a woman, and no one had so much as batted an eyelid. For the first time, my clothes and make-up weren’t a ‘disguise’, or a ‘costume’ — they were just clothes and make-up. MY clothes and make-up. I wasn’t a man dressing up as a woman — I WAS a woman. The feeling of euphoria I felt was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and I knew I wanted more. However, I also knew that buying a coffee was a far cry from having to present myself to nine supermodels. Then again, Jamie and Kelly would no doubt have had similar experiences, as all journeys of a thousand miles begin with single steps, after all.

Over the following few days I ventured out of my home more and more, going further each time and interacting with more people each time. Thanks in no small part to my heavily practised make-up look and feminine voice, I was able to ‘pass’ with everyone I interacted with. This is despite the fact that with every day that passed, my audition grew nearer and nearer and I became more and more anxious…

Eventually, Saturday came, and I dragged myself out of a bed that had seen very little rest the previous night. Despite my hands trembling with nerves — even more so than my first venture outside the previous Monday — I was able to shower and remove every trace of hair below my eyebrows without drowning myself or hacking my face to ribbons, before heading back to my bedroom to work on my look for the day.

Naturally, as this was the most important make-up look of my life up to that point, I had carefully laid everything that I’d need out on my dresser the night before and allowed myself plenty of time before the audition to prepare. I started as always with my concealer and foundation, followed by a tiny amount of blusher. I left my bronzer untouched as I wanted to present as ‘natural’ a look as possible, after all. After shaping my eyebrows, I applied a moderate amount of mascara and eyeliner, followed by a light layer of bronze-coloured eyeshadow and, of course, a liberal amount of my favourite matte nude-coloured lipstick. With my face taken care of, I applied a coat of clear, glossy polish to my nails, leaving them to set before pulling on my gaff, a matching padded bra and thong set and a pair of glossy black tights — natural, maybe even plain, but undoubtedly feminine nonetheless. When I turned to face my wardrobe, however, I sighed.

When I went to bed the previous night, I was sure I knew what I wanted to wear to the audition. After laying awake in bed for 15 minutes, I’d begun to have second thoughts. 15 minutes later, third thoughts. And as I stood in front of my bulging wardrobe, I had over a dozen options in mind, including long dresses, long skirts, skirts with splits in the side, short skirts, long-sleeved tops, strapless tops and even a couple of cute playsuits and unitards. All of which had drawbacks — the long dresses were too ‘formal’, the split skirts were too ‘flirty’, the strapless tops were too revealing, the long-sleeved tops not revealing enough, the unitards made me look like a wrestler… In truth, I wanted to wear all of them, but none of them seemed 'appropriate' for the audition….

After taking a deep breath, I tried to rationalise the situation in my mind and work it through logically. The email told me to show up in my everyday street clothes. As the previous few days had proved, that was a long-sleeved top and a short, tight skirt. With a determined look on my face, I pulled on a soft, sleeveless camisole, followed by the same top, skirt and shoes I’d worn when I first ventured out the previous Monday. With my hands still shaking with nerves, I grabbed my printout of the audition email (it had a QR code I had to show at the audition venue,) a facemask and my ID, only pausing to sigh at the information on the front of my ID card before putting everything in my handbag.

“They’ll be understanding,” I tried to reassure myself. “If you tell them you’re ‘Dina’ and not ‘William,’ they’ll have no reason to disbelieve you.” After all, I thought to myself. I believe that I’m Dina, and not William, and that’s what matters most, isn’t it?

Needless to say, every step that brought me closer to the audition venue made me more and more anxious until the point where I was almost hyperventilating as I queued up at the reception desk. I was infinitely grateful that the social distancing rules and mask mandate meant that my trepidation wasn’t TOO obvious to everyone around me. As I fidgeted with the collar of my top, I also prayed that nothing else about me would come across as too obvious to the people around me, either — though when I reached second in the queue, my nerves started to lessen slightly.

“H- hi,” the girl in front of me, a tall, slender blonde-haired girl wearing a long-sleeved denim jumpsuit and platform-heeled sandals, said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m Sian McAllister, I- I’m here for the audition. I- I’ve got my paperwork…” I bit my lip and waited patiently as Sian got her documents out of her handbag, grimacing as her passport and driving licence unceremoniously dropped to the floor in front of me. Instinctively, I crouched down to help the girl retrieve her possessions, only to pause as the blonde-haired girl also crouched down.

“Ah- sorry,” I said, grimacing as I stood back up. “Keep forgetting that we probably shouldn’t touch each other’s stuff, heh.”

“It’s okay,” Sian mumbled, her cheeks burning as she retrieved her ID and stood back up. It was immediately apparent, though, that her embarrassment wasn’t due to her clumsiness, but due to the fact that the name on her driving licence read ‘Thomas’ rather than ‘Sian.’

“Thank you,” the receptionist said as she took Sian’s ID, only to frown as she looked at the driving licence, deepening the blonde girl’s blushes and increasing my anxiety as I anticipated facing the same problems as my new friend….

“It… umm,” Sian stammered. “I… umm, I- I haven’t had the chance to, umm, update my licence yet….”

“It’s okay,” the receptionist said with a warm smile that not only calmed Sian’s nerves, but mine as well. “Given who you’re auditioning for, I think you’ll be okay, heh!”

“Hehe!” Sian giggled loudly and nervously, before being directed through to a waiting area. Before she disappeared out of sight, though, I stepped up to the reception desk and ensured that I would be heard by the blonde girl.

“My name’s Dina Williams, and I’m here for the auditions too,” I said, handing over my paperwork to be scrutinised. “My… my ID needs updating too.” I smiled as Sian’s eyes widened, before nodding and smiling what I hoped was a supportive smile behind my mask.

“That’s okay,” the receptionist said, smiling the same warm smile behind her mask that she had for Sian. Just follow the blue line on the floor to the waiting area and remember to stay two metres apart from everyone else. You’ll be called through when it’s your turn with the Angels.”

“Thanks,” I whispered nervously as I realised that I was one step closer to my audition and my first meeting with the ‘Angels,’ although my nerves lessened when I headed through the doors to discover Sian waiting for me — two metres away, of course — with a surprised look in her eyes.

“Okay, seriously,” the blonde woman said as we walked together to the waiting area. “I- I’m sorry if I, like, picked up the wrong signals but I- I would NEVER have guessed that you were trans, seriously.”

“Th- thanks, and no offence taken,” I giggled in reply as I brushed a lock of hair away from my face. “I’d never have been able to tell you were, either.”

“Even though I’m 6’ 5” with these on?” Sian snorted as she lifted one foot to show off her heels.

“Supermodels are tall,” I replied with a shrug, earning a giggle from the blonde woman.

“Have… umm, if you don’t mind me asking, ha- have you been transitioning long?” Sian asked, making me grateful for my mask as I bit my lip awkwardly.

“Umm… if by ‘transitioning’ you mean ‘living as a woman,’ then pretty much full-time for eighteen months,” I replied. “If you mean ‘medically transitioning,’ then… kinda, umm… not?” I tried not to blush as the blonde girl’s eyes widened again.

“Wha- really?” Sian asked. “I mean, like, not as a criticism or anything, but- but you’re really- really, like, ‘natural,’ you know?”

“Trust me, it took a LOT of work,” I chuckled as I remembered back to my first, disastrous attempt to be ‘Dina’ all those years ago, and how it seemed like living as a woman would only ever be a pipe dream. And yet there I was, about to audition to be a member of one of, if not THE most prestigious modelling and influencer clique in the country. Even if I didn’t have any modelling or ‘influencing’ experience… “Umm, Sian, do you… do you have any, like, experience? I mean, like, modelling?"

“…I thought you were going to ask if I had any experience medically transitioning,” Sian replied as we entered the waiting room to find that we were the only two there. “But as I asked you, it’s only fair I answer myself, heh, and I’ve been on HRT for three months. Would’ve been longer if not for you-know-what, in the end I had to go private just to get the prescription. But it was well worth the wait. As for modelling… I’ve done a few, umm, photoshoots…” I frowned with confusion as my new friend’s sudden bashfulness.

“…Sian?” I asked cautiously.

“Most of my, like, ‘photoshoots,’ ” Sian said nervously. “They’re kinda… kinda, like, private between me and my boyfriend, heh.”

“Ah,” I said, sharing a giggle with my new friend. “Have you- have you two been together long?”

“We got together just before the pandemic,” Sian replied. “We’re pretty serious, he’s helped me a lot with building my Instagram account too.” Another thing I’m lagging behind on, I thought to myself as I remembered my meagre follower count. “How about you?”

“Currently single,” I replied with a shrug, earning (I assume behind the mask) a sympathetic smile from the blonde woman. “There was a girl while I was at uni, but — yeah.” It took several seconds for me to realise that my wistfulness wasn’t for my actual first girlfriend, even despite the fact that she shared a name with the girl I was talking to, but rather for Dina — the ‘real’ Dina, Dina Black — even though by that point I hadn’t seen her in the flesh in over eighteen months.

“I- I didn’t go to uni, but- yeah,” Sian said, before chuckling. “…Are you SURE you’re not cis?”

“I’m not gonna prove it!” I replied, sharing a loud laugh with my new friend as I found myself relaxing more and more.

It was at that point that I realised that for all that Sian and I had in common — mostly the ‘obvious’ characteristic — and all that we didn’t have in common — she was in a relationship, I was single; she was blonde, I was brunette — it had taken me no time to accept her as a woman, and vice versa. Sian was the first trans woman I ever met in the flesh, and the first person — other than medical professionals — I had come out to. And for the first time ever, I didn’t feel alone. I didn’t feel like a freak, or a weirdo, or an outlier. I felt like an ordinary woman, and I started to truly believe that that was exactly what I was, anatomy and genetics be damned.

“Here, gimme your Instagram name, I’ll follow you if you’ll follow me?” Sian asked, taking her phone out of her bag, pausing as I fidgeted awkwardly.

“I- umm, I have a profile,” I said awkwardly. “But I- I kinda haven’t uploaded anything yet. I- I kinda don’t want my family finding out about me. Well, not yet, anyway. They- they’ve never really approved of social media, heh.”

“Old-fashioned?” Sian asked, smiling (I hope) sympathetically as I nodded. “It’s okay. Though I imagine they’ll be surprised when they see you on the TV… though if they’re THAT old-fashioned they probably won’t watch reality TV either, I take it?”

“That’s the idea,” I said, sharing another giggle with my new friend.

“Well… at least we’ll be able to message, like, if you ever need someone to talk to about, like, the ‘grislier’ bits of transitioning. Or even the ‘girlier’ bits, hehe!”

“I’d like that,” I said, getting my phone out of my bag, logging into the ‘Dina Williams’ account I set up shortly after sending in my application form and exchanging follows with the blonde woman. “You can never have too many friends, right?”

“No prizes for guessing which Angel you’re trying to impress, then!” Sian giggled as another girl entered the room and took a seat at the far end of the room out of earshot of us, before getting her phone out of her bag. However, it was the shiny red long-sleeved top with an elaborate rhinestone pattern that was tucked into her jeans that drew my attention the most, although it didn’t take long to suss out that it wasn’t technically a top. “…And no prizes for guessing that her ‘talent’ is gymnastics, heh.”

“Yep,” I chuckled.

“While I was waiting, I actually saw another girl walk out wearing ballet toe shoes and carrying a tutu,” Sian said. “Hair in a bun, pink tights, the works. Obviously trying to impress Krystie, heh.”

“Probably,” I said with a smirk. “I’m also going to have to look online to see where I can get a leotard like that, heh!”

“I have before, they’re not cheap, proper gymnastics leotards,” Sian informed me. “Do you work currently?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “From home, which has been such a lifesaver. Dunno if I’d have been able to stand going into the office as ‘William’ every day. At least from home I can dress — well, like this, I suppose. Or in a leotard all day if I want, heh.”

“Lucky,” Sian giggled. “I work at M&S, so I have to wear the same uniform every day, and… yeah. They’ve been nothing but supportive of my transition, though. I’m guessing from what you’ve said that your employer doesn’t know about the ‘real you?’ ”

“Ah… no, no they don’t,” I mumbled. “And as my father runs the company, they — well, I doubt they’d be supportive, heh.”

“That’s why ‘girls like us’ need to stick together,” Sian whispered, before squeaking with excitement as one of the researchers appeared at the door.

“Sian McAllister?” The researcher asked, no doubt raising my new friend’s adrenaline levels — and oddly enough, mine as well.

“Good luck,” I whispered as my new friend followed the researcher out into the corridor.

“Thanks, you too!” Sian giggled anxiously. “Bet your girlfriend from uni will regret breaking up with you when she sees you knock ‘em dead onscreen, hehe!”

“Yep!” I squeaked, trying to hide my nerves as the blonde woman disappeared out of sight. And Dina Black will no doubt be surprised to see me on her TV screen having appropriated her name, her style — her face, even…

As I was left alone with my thoughts, I was immediately gripped by a feeling of not just nerves, but something much worse. There I was, sat in an unfamiliar room, wearing clothes and make-up that I technically owned, and had worn countless times, but still felt like they belonged to someone else. Namely, the same girl I hadn’t seen in eighteen months, yet I couldn’t get out of mind even without Sian’s ‘prompt.’ SHE was the one who should have auditioned to be an Angel. She was the one whose effortless femininity drew me in like a bee to nectar. All I would ever be was an imitator of the ‘real’ Dina. Of a ‘real’ woman….

However, as I looked across the room at the gymnast, and over to the newly arrived young woman in her green minidress and dark tights, I tried to remind myself that my ‘feelings’ existed long before I met Dina Black. And if anything, those feelings had only escalated since she left my life. I was living over 160 out of 168 hours a week as a woman for my sake, not for Dina Black’s. I was seeing a counsellor about my feelings of gender dysphoria, not ‘Dina dysphoria.’ And for all I knew, Dina Black’s style could’ve greatly diverged from my own over the past few months — mine has certainly evolved, as my love of playsuits, smart skirts and high-heeled shoes proved. Though there still remained a large part of me that wanted to know what her style had become, and moreover, how I could’ve emulated it….

As I waited, a fourth girl arrived, dressed in a tight black and white striped minidress and took a seat away from me. I briefly considered engaging the other girls in conversation, but quickly decided against it — if they were as nervous as I felt, they wouldn’t want to talk, and the mandated physical distance between us would’ve made conversations a little awkward. Additionally, if the girl in the red leotard had overheard mine and Sian’s conversation, then she'd know that I wasn’t ‘like other girls’ and, in all probability, not like the other three girls, either — though as Sian and I had (hopefully) proved, that was by no means guaranteed. And, as I reminded myself, if they did have a problem with girls like me and Sian, they were the ones who were in the wrong place, not me.

I was lost in thought — ironically, looking through online shops for professional gymnastics leotards — when the researcher for the show returned and said two words that nearly made my heart stop.

“Dina Williams?” The researcher asked, momentarily confusing me before I realised that it was my name that they called — and it was my turn in front of the Angels. With my hands shaking with nerves, I returned my phone to my handbag and approached the young woman, who had an almost sympathetic look on her masked face.

“Nervous?” the researcher asked as we walked down the corridor.

“A- a little,” I replied. “I have NO idea what I’m going to say…”

“Well don’t worry, the girls are all really friendly,” the researcher explained in an attempt to calm my nerves. “Before they start recording, the Angels will introduce themselves. They’ll explain what will happen in the audition, but trust me, you have nothing to be worried about.” Other than what my family will think if they ever see it, I thought. Or Dina Black….

I found myself struggling to concentrate on the researcher’s advice as we approached the small room where the audition would be held and, when the door was opened, I found myself nearly hyperventilating when I saw the nine women on the large screen that had been set up — and more importantly, they saw me.

“Hi!” Charlotte Hartley — the unofficial ‘leader’ of the Angels — said with a warm smile and an enthusiastic wave as I took my place on the marked spot on the floor, unconsciously clasping my hands over my crotch even though my skirt was ‘bulge-free.’

“H- hi,” I said, smiling nervously. “I- I’m Dina, sorry, I’m a little nervous, heh!”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Viks Benedict said with a smile that matched her fellow ‘Angel’ in warmth. “I hope Sally explained what will happen during the audition?”

“Y- yeah,” I replied. “Though I- I’m not sure it sank in, heh, my mind’s all over the place right now.”

“Honestly, you don’t need to be so nervous,” Krystie Fullerton said with a grin. “All you need to remember is that we effectively have two buttons in front of us, a ‘yes’ and a ‘no.’ A ‘yes’ means you’ve been offered a place in that Angel’s preliminary ‘squad’ — if you’ll forgive the sports term — and a green border will go around their image, while a ‘no’ means that Angel isn’t interested in offering you a spot and their camera will turn off.”

“But don’t take it personally if we say ‘no,’ ” Hannah Dexter explained, oddly looking almost as nervous as I felt despite her fame. “We’d love to accept everyone into the Angels if we could, but our boss would be a bit angry about the extra workload, heh!”

“It- it’s okay,” I said. “Can- can I ask a question before we start, please?”

“Sure,” Charlotte replied.

“How did… if you don’t mind me asking,” I began nervously, “How did Sian do? Th- tthe girl who was in before me, the blonde?”

“Are you two friends?” Alice Devry asked with a wide, almost cheeky grin.

“We… we got talking while we were waiting,” I replied, biting my lip as I pondered whether or not to say what I wanted to — after all, while it was likely that Sian told the Angels about her ‘status,’ I didn’t want to inadvertently ‘out’ her. “We… we have a couple of things in common, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Jamie-Lee Burke said, nodding knowingly and making my heart race — clearly, I’ve made a good impression with her before I’ve even started.

“And we can’t actually tell you how Sian did,” Sally — the researcher — interjected, blushing as the Angels playfully jeered.

“In fairness, that rule is important so we can take each audition ‘in a vacuum,’ ” Viks explained. “And you’ll find out how Sian did when her episode goes out too!”

“…Or I can text her when I get home,” I retorted, earning grins from all nine women.

“Even if the audition doesn’t go well, you’ve both made a new friend,” Kelly Watson said with the same knowing look that Jamie sported moments earlier, again increasing my excitement levels.

“Look out London, here comes Edinburgh’s Angels?” Mary Carter asked in her thick Belfast accent, making all the other women laugh — myself included.

“Okay, think we’re about ready to start,” Sally said as my heart rate reached almost critical levels. “Dina, are you ready?” Barely able to speak, I just nodded and flashed a thumbs-up. “Okay, once I’ve left the room, you can remove your mask, then we’ll start.” I nodded and waited for Sally to leave the room, before removing my mask and placing it on the small table out of shot of the camera. Alright then, I thought to myself. It’s go time….

“Next contestant, please!” Charlotte announced, before mentally counting to five and looking directly at the camera — or rather, at me. “Hi! Can you tell us your name, your age and where you’re from, please?”

“Hi!” I replied, clenching my hands tightly together to keep myself calm. “My name is Dina Williams.” My name IS Dina Williams, I confidently thought as I felt my nerves start to ease. “I’m 22 and I’m from Edinburgh.” All the Angels are still on-screen, I thought anxiously. Good start so far….

“You don’t have much of an accent,” Alice asked. “Did you go to school or university in England, or somewhere else?”

“Ah… no, I went to university in St. Andrews,” I replied, biting my lip nervously — if anything, ‘Dina’s Scottish accent was even more pronounced than ‘William’s.

“What did you study?” Kelly asked.

“Business and economics,” I replied. “I’m currently working as a financial analyst.”

“What do you like to do in your free time?” Krystie asked.

“Pandemic notwithstanding,” Viks interjected, making the blonde dance teacher roll her eyes.

“I like going out, travelling, seeing new places,” I semi-seriously replied, before sensing an opportunity to show off my ‘talent.’ “Recently, though, I’ve been experimenting with different make-up looks.”

“Yeah, we got some of the photos of your looks that you sent with your application,” said Abbey-Gayle Simpson — the youngest of the Angels, but still a few weeks older than me. “And I- I kinda already got two make-up artists in my squad so I- I’m gonna drop out at this point. Sorry.” I tried not to panic as the dark-skinned woman’s screen switched off.

“I’m… going to have to say ‘no’ as well,” Hannah said apologetically. “I’m sure you’re a great girl, but I’m looking for something… different for my team.” Two down, seven to go….

“You’ve claimed your talent as make-up artistry,” Charlotte asked. “No offence, but your look today is kinda… ‘everyday.’ ”

“I was told to come along in my normal clothes and make-up,” I retorted. “This IS what I wear every day.”

“And don’t get me wrong, you do look great,” Charlotte reassured me. “Very cute. But… I’m looking for something a little less… ordinary. Sorry.” I tried not to cry as the megastar’s screen switched off, leaving me with just six Angels remaining.

“Those three maybe aren’t looking closely enough,” Kelly said with a sly grin. “How long have you been doing make-up looks?”

“On and off for a few years,” I replied. “But I seriously got into it during the first lockdown.”

“Do you have any artists you take inspiration from?” Alice asked.

“Other than all of us, of course?” Jamie asked with a giggle.

“Well, obviously, I follow all the Angels on Instagram and TikTok,” I replied, smirking bashfully as the remaining six women playfully giggled. “A few of the American and Australian Angels too. But mostly I just like to experiment, find out what works for me and how I can, like, play with it, enhance it, that sort of thing.”

“Self-taught,” Kelly said with a knowing nod.

“But you don’t upload any of your looks to your social media?” Krystie asked inquisitively.

“Well… umm…” I mumbled as I scrambled to think of an answer. The Angels were primarily an influencer group, and it’s hard to ‘influence’ anyone without an online presence. “My- my family don’t exactly approve of social media, I- I’ve not got, like, much experience with it…”

“That’s… unfortunate,” Krystie said, making my heart sink. Four down… “You’ve got talent, but I can’t afford to spend time coaching you on how to use social media when there are plenty other girls coming through the pipeline with established followings. Sorry.”

“I’m out too, for the same reason, I’m afraid,” Mary said as she and her best friend switched off their screens simultaneously, leaving me with five blank screens and four active screens — but importantly, none of them were green.

“Well, in fairness, they do both have kids,” Kelly said with a chuckle as she continued to smile reassuringly. “And on that note: Jamie? Viks?”

“…If you’ve got a degree from St Andrews, I imagine you probably know your way around a computer,” Viks said. “And the fact that you spent all that time teaching yourself make-up skills… I reckon you can master social media too. Though I’ve not pushed the green button yet as, well, make-up is A talent, sure, and it’s an important one, but — is that all there is to Dina Williams?”

“Umm…” I replied as I racked my brains.

Was that all there was to Dina Williams? I spent so much time developing my look, concentrating on my fashion and make-up that I hadn’t really considered the answer to that question. It’s not like there was that much to ‘William Constable,’ after all. Between my studies and my family obligations, I’d never had time for any real hobbies — not ones that weren’t approved by my family, anyway, like classical music or game shooting. I’d never played a videogame, I’d never attended a football match, or a concert — well, unless you count operas or ballets, anyway. For the past four years, to all intents and purposes, ‘Dina’ WAS my ‘hobby.’ Or rather, ‘William’s hobby. But now that I was ‘Dina,’ what more was there to me? I didn’t have a girlfriend, or even any friends full stop. And if I asked myself the question ‘if I had unlimited money, what would I do right now,’ the answer would inevitably be ‘buy all the clothes, shoes and make-up that I could’ — even though my wardrobes were already bulging.

I was almost ready to admit defeat there and then, give up on the whole ‘Angel’ thing as a pipe dream and go back to trying to figure out how to explain ‘Dina’ to my family when all of a sudden, inspiration hit me. If I had unlimited money, sure, I’d treat myself, but I’d feel obligated to help others who weren’t as fortunate as me — people like Sian, even if she's more 'accepted' than I am. Merely being an Angel would serve as inspiration, the way women like Jamie and Kelly had inspired me — all I had to do was figure out how to put this feeling into words.

“I- I have this desire, to- to help people,” I said, knowing the second the words left my mouth that they wouldn’t impress the four remaining women. “Like… I mean, girls in the same, umm, ‘situation’ as me, they- they might not have friends, or family who accept them, and- and- they need someone, you know?”

“All too well,” Jamie replied with a knowing smile. “But there have already been a lot of girls stood where you are saying the same thing. I’ve no doubt that you’re genuine about what you’re saying, but I’ve no doubt that they were genuine too. And…” Six down, I immediately thought to myself as I tried not to let my shoulders slump. “I think you could be a great inspiration to girls around the world, whether you’re an Angel or not. Don’t give up on your dreams, and definitely don’t give up on trying to help people. But I’m sorry, I’m going to have to say I’m out at this point.” I bit my lip as the famous trans woman smiled and switched off her screen, taking little consolation from the fact that there were still three women left — though that would soon change too.

“I- I have to agree with Jamie,” Alice said. “We only have a limited number of spots in our ‘squads,’ and there were a LOT of applicants, so we have to be really picky about who we keep. If we do this show next year, though, I want to see you again in the auditions — if you aren’t chosen this time, of course!”

“Thanks,” I whispered as the copper-haired woman’s screen also blacked out.

“Don’t be too downhearted by the way it’s going so far,” Viks advised. “I’m probably not supposed to tell you this, but so far we’ve talked to literally hundreds of girls and the vast majority have only had one or two ‘green Angels.’ Nobody’s got all nine yet.”

“I think the highest was six,” Kelly said with a supportive smile. “But more importantly, the two of us are still here. I’m seeing a LOT of potential in you, Dina. You’ve definitely got the look, the attitude and, for want of a better way of putting it, the right amount of ‘respect for hard work.’ I just need a little bit more to fully ‘tip the scales,’ as make-up is totally an important talent, but I need to know a bit more about — well, ‘you.’ An interesting fact, even.” Such as the fact that I’m descended from literal royalty? I thought to myself. My family would be angry enough I’m simply stood here, dressed like this. God knows how they’d react if I ‘invoked the family name….’

“It doesn’t have to be as ‘practical’ as make-up skills,” Viks advised. “It can be anything, something silly, trivial even.”

“Okay,” I said as I racked my brains, trying to remember anything from my youth, anything even that my grandfather taught me — that's it! I know exactly what my 'talent' can be, though opinions will definitely vary on how 'trivial' it is. “I can… if you name any year from 870 AD onwards, I can tell you who was the king or queen of England and Scotland at the time.”

“Okay,” Viks teased. “Bit of a fan of the royal family, are you?”

“My- my family are kinda pro-monarchy,” I replied as I blushed, obviously hiding the ‘real truth.’ ”

“Well, it’s still fun,” Viks chuckled. “I mean, you’re talking to someone literally named ‘Victoria,’ trust me when I saw my parents did NOT pick that name out of thin air, heh!”

“Meanwhile I’m still waiting for the first ever ‘Queen Kelly,’ ” the dark-haired woman said with a mock pout. “Or even the first ever ‘Princess Kelly.’ Of England, anyway, seeing as Monaco’s already got there first!”

“You ARE the ‘first ever Princess Kelly of England,’ ” Viks said, making the oriental girl blush. “But seriously, Dina, we NEED to test this. 1411!”

"Henry IV of England, James I of Scotland," I replied almost instantly.

"...You realise we're going to have to Google this to confirm, right?" Viks asked with an almost shy giggle.

"Already on it," Kelly said, holding up her expensive (and no doubt gifted by the manufacturer in exchange for promoting it) smart phone. "...Spot on. Okay, my turn. 1142!"

"Stephen of England, David I of Scotland," I replied, giggling as Kelly nodded again.

"Okay, that is actually cool," the oriental trans woman giggled.

"Umm... I'm trying to think of a year, heh," Viks said. "My birthday's 21st December, so 2112 wouldn't work, Kelly's is 30th April so 3004 wouldn't work either, heh. What's your birthday, Dina?"

"Umm, May 15th," I replied.

"Slap bang in the middle of Awesome Week?" Kelly asked. "Coincidence?"

"Maybe," Viks replied with a shrug as I wondered what 'Awesome Week' was — but the fact that I was born in the middle of it must surely have been a point in my favour. "But it gives me my last year: 1505."

"Henry VII of England, James IV of Scotland," I replied with a confident grin. Despite my nerves at being put on the spot like this, I actually found myself relaxing more and more, the audition seemingly having turned into an intimate chat between three women — something the remaining two Angels seemingly quickly picked up on.

“I think we’re finally starting to see the real ‘Dina,’ ” Kelly said with a smirk, and I found myself wondering whether or not this was true — while ‘William’ had long since become the mask and ‘Dina’ my real identity, there was always a part of me that felt like I didn’t belong. But as the audition continued, I found myself forgetting all about ‘William,’ even in the context of ‘him’ being just a mask. Being in front of these women, dressed the way I was, presenting the way I was, even speaking the way I was felt more and more normal. Even the excitement normally associated with wearing my mini skirt and my heels seemed to fade, as it was just something women wore, after all. Women like me. Maybe this is who ‘the real Dina’ is, I thought to myself.

“I think you might be right, Miss Watson!” Viks chuckled. “And I definitely do like what I see. There’s room for improvement when it comes to online presence, but there is so, SO much capacity for improvement too. But…” And here it comes again, I thought to myself. “I have a feeling you want Kelly more than me, and I have a feeling Kelly wants you more than me too! Not that you wouldn’t be a great addition to ‘Team Viks,’ but… yeah. Kelly? The ball’s in your court….” I bit my lip nervously as Kelly mimed that she was thinking the decision over, before my jaw dropped as her screen was suddenly outlined in green. I didn’t even notice as Viks winked and switched off her screen, while my new apparent ‘mentor’ giggled.

“Well… welcome to ‘Team Kelly,’ Dina!” Kelly said as I took several deep breaths to calm myself while Sally re-entered the room.

“Congratulations!” The researcher said, before laying a document on the table in front of me. “We just need your signature on this page before we can enter you into the next stage of the competition. It’s just permission to edit and broadcast the audition, that’s all.”

“S- sure,” I said, pausing as I was handed a pen.

“Is there a problem?” Kelly asked, still on-screen.

“Umm, I just… I’ve never actually signed a form as ‘Dina’ before,” I chuckled. “The application was online, and I haven’t changed my name yet by deed poll….”

“Oh, trust me, sister, I have been there,” Kelly reassured me. “It’s something you will need to think about, though….”

“Yep,” I sighed, before signing the name ‘Dina Williams,’ remembering all of the cursive handwriting classes I took when I was younger to make it look as 'formal' as possible. Much to my surprise, though, it didn’t feel wrong, or unnatural, like I was forging another person’s signature — rather, it felt like I was cementing my new identity, literally dotting the 'I's and crossing the 'T's of who 'Dina' was. It was almost as though ‘Dina Williams’ finally became 'legitimate' with the signature.

“Sweet!” Kelly giggled on-screen as Sally took the papers away. “So I’m guessing you’re wondering what happens next, right?”

“Yeah, that’s a safe guess,” I replied, earning a giggle from my new ‘mentor.’ “Will the production company be in touch?”

“If by ‘production company’ you mean ‘me,’ then yes,” Kelly replied. “We — by which I mean, all of us Angels — are taking this competition pretty seriously, as whoever wins is going to end up being, well, part of our everyday lives. So it’s important that we get to know everyone on our squad before deciding who to put into, like, the final competition.”

“Oh- okay,” I said, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Is- is there a problem with that?” Kelly asked, confused by my sudden mood change.

“It’s just… heh,” I replied, my voice quivering. “Before today, the only people who knew about ‘Dina’ were my GP and my gender identity counsellor. Now I’m going to get one on one support from one of the most famous trans women in the country, it- it’s a little bit surreal, heh.”

“I get it,” Kelly said. “You’re not the only girl on my ‘squad’ to have said the same thing. And I will admit, starting your transition in the public eye isn’t exactly ideal, but I wouldn’t have picked you for my ‘squad’ if I thought you weren’t capable of handling it. You — there’s something special about you, Dina. Obviously, you’ve got the looks and the style, but you’ve got a kind of, for want of a better way of putting it, ‘confident humility’ about yourself. I- heh. This is going to sound like ME name dropping now, but- but I met Prince William a couple of years ago at a charity event and I kinda got the same ‘vibe’ from him.” Well, that’d be appropriate, I thought to myself.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“We’ve got to make a decision by March 24th about who we’re sending through to the show proper,” Kelly explained. “In between then and now I’m going to be calling you — and obviously, you can arrange a call with me whenever you want too — though as I do have other girls in my ‘squad’ you may have to arrange it sometime in advance, heh.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “What- what would you, I mean, what should I be focussing on?”

“First and foremost, social media presence,” Kelly replied. “Get your face out there! Build a following, show the world who Dina Williams is and what she can do. Even if you don’t make it into the show proper, it’ll set you up with a nice source of income, and obviously I’ll drop likes on your posts as well to give you a ‘bump’ — but I’m going to be doing this for all the other girls on my squad too.”

“So- so I’ll need to try to stand out from the crowd?” I asked.

“That’s as good a way as any of putting it,” Kelly replied as I tried not to gulp.

Dressing as Dina for the first time, all those years ago, had been nerve-wracking enough. Coming out to a medical professional had been terrifying. And leaving my home for the first time as ‘Dina’ and been almost panic inducing. However, all of these things passed without a hitch. I made it to the audition, made a new friend in Sian and even passed the audition without a hitch. Everyone I met accepted me as the woman I am on the inside. And yet, the idea of putting myself on the internet for all to see was scarier than all of those things put together.

In all of my adventures outside as ‘Dina,’ I’d been able to ‘control the situation,’ for want of a better way of putting it. I had limited the number of people I interacted with and only ventured out of my comfort zone when I believed it was safe to do so. In total, including the Angels, only around twenty people had ever interacted with ‘Dina’ in any meaningful way. By comparison, over twenty thousand people had left ‘likes’ on Kelly’s last Instagram post — and she wasn’t even in it as it was just a photograph of a handbag. And that’s saying nothing of the over four million followers that Kelly has on Instagram, or the over fifteen million people that (each) followed Charlotte and Hannah. Even the ‘least popular’ Angel — Alice — had over a million and a half followers at that point in time. And while the vast majority of their followers were no doubt genuine fans, all it would take it would be one wrong follower to ruin everything, even before I got the opportunity to become an ‘Angel.’ If I started to post photos and videos of ‘Dina Williams’ on Instagram and any of them got back to Dina Black, God only knows how she’d react. While ‘Dina Williams’ looked nothing like ‘William Constable’ when made-up, the whole point of make-up tutorials is that you start without any make-up on — which would definitely give the game away.

On the other hand, as I’d passed my audition, it would no doubt be broadcast (or rather, streamed) and, as I knew that Dina was a fan of the Angels long before meeting me, chances were that she was going to learn about the existence of ‘Dina Williams’ anyway. My only consolation was that my family’s aversion to reality TV and social media meant that I’d be able to dodge that bullet for a little while longer.

“…Okay,” I said, earning a smile from my new ‘mentor.’ “I have a few ideas for videos I could make, make-up tutorials mostly. Unless- unless you have any suggestions?”

“Try to follow what’s trending,” Kelly advised. “Variations on a theme, that sort of thing. It’s March, so maybe something spring-themed? And don’t forget your hashtags too, they’ll give your video the most reach. I’d- I’d also use the hashtag #transisbeautiful. Firstly, because it’s DAMN true, and secondly, because you — if you’re going to be an LGBT influencer, and especially a ‘T’ influencer — you NEED to be, well, ‘up front,’ not hiding away who you really are, or worse yet- heh. What I’m about to say will be ironic, but you- you can’t be seen to be pretending to be something you’re not.”

“…Yeah, definitely feels ironic,” I mumbled, feeling almost relieved as Kelly smiled at me sympathetically — she of all people must have known how I was feeling at that moment. Assuming she closely emulated a friend of hers named ‘Kelly,’ anyway….

“I don’t think there’s a single trans person alive who hasn’t felt that way at some point in their lives,” Kelly whispered. “But we’re not ‘monsters’. We’re not ‘freaks.’ We are gorgeous, successful young women who want to live our lives to the fullest, no matter what anyone else tries to say. Right?”

“Right,” I said with a confident smile as for the first time in my life, I started to feel truly valid.

“I’d love to chat more, but I think we’re due our next audition in a few minutes,” Kelly said with a sad smile. “But we will talk again in the next few days. In the meantime, work on those videos and photos, get your socials up and running and show the world exactly how awesome and girly Dina Williams is, okay?”

“Okay!” I said, smiling before taking a deep breath as Kelly switched off her screen.

And that’s exactly what I did. When I got home, I removed my make-up and filmed half a dozen tutorials ranging from an everyday make-up look to a fancy night out to a 'professional’ office look and many more, while making sure, of course, to change my outfit between each video. After paying for and downloading professional video editing software, I was able to complete my first video by that evening. Before going to bed, I uploaded it, switched my phone to ‘do not disturb’ (as I always do last thing at night) and went to bed without giving it a second thought.

When I woke up the following morning, I checked my Instagram account, and my jaw dropped when I saw the response to my post.

Over 4000 ‘likes’ had been left on my post, and my profile had gained over a thousand new followers in the time I’d been in bed. Unsurprisingly, one of those first likes was from Kelly, whose 'influence' no doubt caused the sudden surge in interest, but the fact that a thousand people — complete strangers, even — started following me, implicitly stating that they wanted more content from me, filled me with excitement. Oddly, though, the main source of the excitement wasn’t the prospect of gaining fame or money, but at the fact that over a thousand people had seen the hashtags #transisbeautiful and #transgender under my post and followed me anyway. Over one thousand people took me at face value — literally, as I’d uploaded a make-up tutorial — and acknowledged me as a woman. However, the high I was on quickly dropped when I started to read the comments.

‘No amount of make-up is disguising that Adam’s Apple,’ one comment read, followed by six ‘crying with laughter’ emojis. Worse yet was how the comment already had 23 ‘likes’ — though my confidence was restored slightly when I saw the first comment that replied to the abusive one.

‘No amount of emojis is disguising that bigotry,’ the comment read — which had received 55 likes.

Thankfully, the majority of the 100+ comments on my video were supportive, but that didn’t stop the occasional ‘that’s a man,’ ‘crossdressing creep’ and ‘freak’ comments from cutting into me — with the knowledge that if I were to join the Angels, or even make it onto the show proper, my public profile would increase, and so would the frequency of those disgusting comments. Before I could gather my thoughts, though, my phone pinged to inform me of a new message, and my smile immediately returned when I saw who it was from.

‘Hey Dina!’ Kelly’s message read. ‘I saw your post last night, thought it was great! A few more along the same lines and you’ll be in a great position for the show, especially with the number of people who liked it!’ Despite my mentor’s enthusiasm, I couldn’t shake the earlier comment from my mind.

‘Not everyone liked it, though,’ I typed.

‘Sadly, you’re always going to get idiots, especially online where they can be anonymous,’ Kelly replied almost instantly. ‘I know it’s tempting to try to hide yourself away from the trolls, but in the end that won’t solve anything.’

‘Because it’ll ruin my chances of making it onto the show proper?’ I asked.

‘Because a person shouldn’t have to hide themselves away and not interact with the world just because they’re trans,’ Kelly clarified. ‘You get morons who accuse girls — and boys — like us of ‘rubbing our transness in their face.’ That’s bullshit, especially when it’s OUR social media pages they’re talking about. Why shouldn’t we be visible and proud? …And also, yes, it’d hurt your chances on the show lol. But I’m not wrong about what I said. Heavenly Talent now manages all my social media content — the public stuff, anyway — but every day I see comments like ‘I’m not transphobic but do I have to see trans issues everywhere I go?’ Newsflash: if you think that way, you ARE transphobic.’ And God knows I know a few people who’ve openly said that in the past, I thought to myself with a shudder as I remembered my family’s repeated public declarations of ‘support’ for LGBT issues contrasted with the way they treated my brother when he came out.

‘100% agree,’ I typed.

‘I thought you might,’ Kelly typed. ‘You’re off to a good start. The video was well-edited and very professional-looking according to our social media team! More of the same, please.’

‘Can do!’ I replied. ‘Not like I have anything else to do at 9am on Sunday morning lol.’

‘Ugh tell me about it,’ Kelly typed with an ‘unamused’ emoji. ‘Normally at this time of the week I’d still be in bed sleeping off the latest party at Charlotte’s house. Lol especially as it would’ve been our chief PA’s birthday party, and I usually have to take a week off to recover from that one!’ I giggled at my mentor’s story and replied with a ‘smiling’ emoji. ‘Anyway, would love to stop and chat but I do kinda have other girls to mentor, sorry!’

‘Not a problem, I thought you might,’ I replied with a ‘waving’ emoji that my mentor reciprocated before leaving the conversation. Feeling rejuvenated, I quickly showered, ate breakfast and applied my make-up before setting up my laptop’s webcam and picking out several outfits for a series of 'get ready with me' videos.

I spent the next three hours videoing myself donning all sorts of looks, including casual outfits of light tops with denim skirts or tight miniskirts; office looks like longer, more fitted skirts and formal blouses; formal outfits with long, slinky dresses and opera gloves; even a few more ‘playful’ outfits with clothes like playsuits and unitards and boots instead of flat or heeled shoes. Every new outfit I created and recorded made me more and more excited, as did the knowledge that thousands of people — including Kelly — would watch and ‘like’ my videos.

However, as I discovered while alternating between editing my next video and checking the response to my first one, Dina Black was not one of those people. Her name didn’t appear anywhere on my ‘likes’ or ‘followers’ list, and while I felt a little disappointed, a part of me also felt oddly relieved. No Dina following me meant no awkward conversations I’d have to have later — though I knew that with every new video I uploaded, the chances of her learning about ‘Dina Williams’ grew higher and higher.

However, me being ‘Dina Williams’ wasn’t about ‘Dina Black,’ it was about me, and what I wanted. No — what I NEEDED. With every video I uploaded, I felt more and more validated in my choice to live as the woman I always felt I was on the inside, and increasingly was on the outside. While my counsellor continued to withhold HRT on the grounds that I wasn’t ‘out’ to my family, my online presence grew ever larger with every video I uploaded. I spent every second of my time when not working either recording a video, editing a video, uploading a video or reading & responding to comments. As my following grew, reaching almost 25 000 followers in my first two weeks on Instagram, the ‘voices of the morons’ (as Kelly put it) were increasingly drowned out by supportive comments and comments explicitly calling out the ‘morons.’ My ‘coaching sessions’ with Kelly continued but quickly came to be her simply telling me to ‘keep up the good work’ — at least, until the call that I received on Monday the 22nd of March, a day that would stick in my memory forever.

“Hey Dina!” Kelly said as she called, rather than sent a text message — something she’d done before, but very infrequently.

“Hi Kelly!” I replied, mirroring the smile of my mentor on my laptop’s screen. “Sorry I can’t stick around long, but I’ve got to get back to work in about ten minutes.”

“That’s okay, this call won’t take long,” Kelly said as a stoic expression fell over her face. Welp, I knew it was a long shot, I thought to myself as I braced myself for disappointment. “As you know, out of the fifteen girls in my ‘squad,’ only one can go through to the competition proper and enter the Angel Mansion for the chance to be the next member of ‘The Angels.’ ” I found myself trying not to frown at how scripted, how unnatural Kelly’s diction had suddenly become. “We all have different criteria for who we want to be our contestant in the Angel Mansion, and I’ve decided, Dina that you…” Here it comes… “…Are going into the Mansion.” My jaw dropped open at the revelation that out of the thousands of models, influencers and — for want of a better way of putting it — ‘real’ girls, Kelly picked me?

“Oh- oh my god!” I squeaked, clasping my hands over my mouth in shock.

“Congratulations!” Kelly cheered as I tried to take stock of the situation.

“S- seriously?” I asked, making my mentor giggle even louder.

“Seriously,” Kelly replied. “I KNEW there was something about you, Dina, and you are, by miles, the hardest working of all the girls on my squad. I know you’ve got what it takes to be the next Angel. So… do you want to be an Angel?” Well, that’s the question, I thought to myself.

In the two weeks since my audition, I’d taken countless steps toward my dream of being a girl — and being ‘Dina.’ In that short space of time, thousands upon thousands of internet users had come to see me unambiguously as ‘Dina.’ All nine Angels unambiguously saw me as ‘Dina,’ and one of them believed in me to the extent that she chose me as ‘her girl’ in a TV show that will be streamed by millions worldwide… and therein laid the problem.

Millions of people watching me on television would inevitably lead to increased scrutiny, and it’d only be a matter of time before my family relationship came out — pun very much not intended. While there would be those in society who’d think nothing of a member of an aristocratic family coming out as trans, there would no doubt be those who would see it as a scandal to my family — or worse yet, who’d see them ostracising me as an even greater scandal. From a very, very young age I’d had it drilled into me that I had responsibilities to my family, to uphold their ideals, their 'family name.' That I should be the perfect son, work hard for the family, find a wife, settle down, continue the bloodline… except I never wanted any of that. I only ever wanted to be a woman, even before meeting Dina Black for the first time. And I’d not just succeeded in that goal, I was thriving. I could never go back to being ‘William,’ to being ‘the good son’ my family expected me to be. Whether or not I appeared on the show, my family would want nothing to do with me — what happened to my oldest brother was proof of that. And if they were going to throw me out anyway, well, why should I feel obligated to them if they clearly weren’t going to be obligated toward me? My only ‘obligation,’ as I saw it, was to be the best woman I could possibly be — and to take every opportunity that came my way that helped me achieve that goal.

“Yes,” I replied with a confident smile. “I want to be an Angel.”