My Whole Life I've Been Asked If I'm a Girl or a Boy

[fizzgig]

As a Child I Identified as a Pirate Captain—That's All I Can Tell You
by Sarah Galvin

When I was 5, my family moved to a new house off Aurora on 115th. My dad invented a game in which the house was a ship, I was a sailor, and he was the captain. The purpose of the game was to distract me from my fear of the house and to persuade me to follow rules. I preferred a version of the game I invented in which I was also a captain—the captain of a pirate ship. At first I was Captain Hook from Peter Pan, but through ongoing make-believe, my pirate persona developed. I wore an increasingly filthy felt tricorn hat and eye patch, and every morning drew a mustache on myself with a black-licorice-scented Magic Marker.

When a relative made me a plaid dress with a matching eye patch, my mom was thrilled, but when she put the dress on me so she could take a picture, I started crying. I remember her saying how pretty I was, which made it worse. I felt humiliated—pirate captains don't wear dresses, I thought. Fortunately, my mom realized something was seriously wrong and never made me wear that dress again, or any other. Within two years, I asked to cut my hair short. In any picture of me from childhood past the age of 5, my wardrobe isn't much different than it is now, except I am now less likely to a wear a poison-dart-frog-print baseball cap, and the substances my clothing is stained with have changed. There are few things I'm more thankful to my parents for than not forcing me to dress and behave "appropriately" for a person with my external sexual characteristics.

"Are you a boy or a girl?" is a question I first heard in elementary school, and fairly regularly since, though the wording has changed. To kids at school I said "girl," though my favorite game was one in which my tree house was a castle, I was king, and a girl who lived down the street was queen. My manner of dress was bizarre, and my family was so poor that we pawned stuff for groceries, but I always had friends and was never picked on. The other kids liked my make-believe games, but I honestly think my popularity had more to do with the confidence my parents cultivated in me—as long as I did well in school and was healthy, they didn't give a shit how I looked.

At 14, I tried wearing dresses and dating a delicate, beautiful boy who shared my interest in clothing design and Marilyn Manson. When he tipped his top hat to me in the hall at school, my legs shook. My first kiss was with him while watching a band called the Cunt Rags at an underage venue in Ballard. He had drunk about a pint of vodka. When he said, "Wanna make out?" I kissed him sloppily and enthusiastically. Seconds later, he fell out of his chair unconscious, as the band hurled a barrage of eggs and dog shit into the audience. That night I listened to "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" on my parents' duct-tape-patched record player late into the night, reveling in what I thought was love and probably the coolest moment of my life. I was confused when later, in his room, he touched my tits through my psychedelic vintage dress (gently and respectfully, though awkwardly, having asked permission) and all I felt was ticklish.

http://www.thestranger.com/features/feature/2015/06/24/22436544/my-whole-life-ive-been-asked-if-im-a-girl-or-a-boy

long read, but well worth it.

i understood a long time ago that sexuality was not a binary thing, but it took me much longer to understand that about gender. however, once i began to understand that gender exists on a spectrum, i began to understand myself a bit better.

[TexasProgresive]

1. My observation is that everything that defines us as humans

exists on a spectrum. There is no real normal, just being average across the spectrum doesn't make one "normal". I guess this is a generalization fallacy.