this is the part of the story where i tell you
that i’ve always known i was trans
that i’ve always felt that i was different
that even from a young age…
even from a young age…
that’s how the story is supposed to start
and then unfold
it’s the script
i’m autistic
we live by scripts
but
when i was a teenager i got my earlobe pierced
just the left one
so people wouldn’t think i was gay
that was the thing back then:
left ear: straight
right ear: gay
all the straight boys knew that that was the code
that everyone understood
we didn’t know the gay folks
were chuckling at us
and our made-up code
i was a toxic male achilles
dipped in the font of masculinity
it permeated my being
coated my flesh
informed my presentation
soaked into my soul
poisoned my mind
there was no room in there
for a little girl
with an unheard voice
my dysphoria was that i was fat
my dysphoria was that i was awkward
as a child i don’t remember looking at my body
and wishing the outie was an innie
when i was old enough to shave my chin
i shaved my chin
a rite of passage
to becoming the man i thought i was
it wasn’t until college that i started to question
as a child
i just thought i was broken
so much anger
so much betrayal
so much inability to fit in
i got my first understanding of sexuality
from the hustler magazines
my brother had hidden under his bed
it was misogyny
it was ranking women’s worth
on the shape of their breasts
and their sexual williningness
it was ranking men’s worth
on their ability to take
and their ability to perform
i got my first understanding of maleness
from the hustler magazines
my brother had hidden under his bed
and my father knew it
and he didn’t like it
but he didn’t know how to correct it
because he’d gotten his first understanding of maleness
from the angry voice of his father
yelling
hitting
belittling
crushing
there was no room in there
for a little girl
with an unheard voice
my mother had wanted me to be a girl
so even when i did start to question
my masculinity
i thought it was my mother’s poison
my mother was taught:
a real woman has at least one boy
at least one girl
that was the way of the world
a successful woman has at least one of each
and keeps trying until she does
my mother didn’t like making children
she suffered ppd after each one
spent time in the hospital
working on handicrafts
with the other women with ppd
so she had wanted to get it over with on child number two
my first failure to her was being born a boy
so any thoughts i had that i was a different sort of boy
i interpreted
as my mother’s wishes
even later
as an adult
when i started to question
i interpreted it
as my mother’s wishes
and the later it got
and the older i got
the more the thoughts fossilized
there was no room in there
for a little girl
with an unheard voice
until covid
and the world shattered
and my illusions shattered
and i had to reassess everything
everything
everything i thought i knew about myself
but as a child
betraying my mother’s dreams
supporting my father’s sheen of patriarchy
trying to dodge the bullies
and the disappointment of a society
i had never been designed to live within
as a child
i didn’t have the language
so i laughed with uncle miltie
and corporal klinger
and flip wilson in a dress
and the parade of other men
who reinfored maleness
by mocking drag
those were the walls i lived within
and i didn’t question it
because my safety was fragile enough
without questioning it
there was just
simply
no room in there
for a little girl
with an unheard voice
04.12.23