My War With Gender Roles

My war with gender roles began long before I knew what gender roles were. It began with no warning. It didn’t come with instructions. You know how when you just begin a game at level one and you barely have a weapon, ammunition, or armor? That’s how I was thrown into a war I never signed up for.

The last time I wore a dress without putting up a fuss was before I knew how to read. The first time I was called a boy was by some knucklehead trying to hurt my feelings. It did quite the opposite; I secretly favored being called a male. I despised the “F” on the medical bracelets every time I had to go to the doctor. I hated having to sit on the “girl’s” side of the school bus. A pile of dread burned at the pit of my stomach every time I had to go to “girl’s” P.E. class. They hated it too and were very vocal about it. Faces twisted up in grotesque disgust and comments full of malice were spat. I was picked last for teams simply because I HAD to be picked.

Bile-green envy made me sick to my stomach every time I saw a boy in a nice button-up and tie while I had to be some frilly freak of nature. Rage boiled in my veins and threatened to burst every time I saw a fresh haircut or a fresh pair of Jordans and a walk full of confidence. I learned what gay was in Elementary School and they made it sound like something people euthanize dogs for. They made it seem like it was worse than Cancer. Words can’t express the terror that filled my body when I developed my first crush on a girl. Nine years later I felt a ping of the same terror when I caught another crush on another girl.

Family members, church members, friends, and bullies alike all referred to me as a girl.

So why didn’t I feel like one?

It had been beaten into my head that girls weren’t supposed to wear ties at all or wear pants to church. Pink was the universal color for girls and bruises earned from playtime outside were frowned upon. Video games were for boys and Barbies were for girls. “Why are you trying so hard to be a boy?” they’d ask. I was just trying to be me.

I was forced for a war I had no idea about. Everything I did screamed rebellion against society’s strict gender rules. The clothes I wore, my interests, and my love all defied everything they endlessly roared. People labeled it a phase. They brushed it off. Others just grunted in dissaproval from afar. Some avoided me like I had the flu. Others spewed hateful statements every chance they got. I endured it. I fought it and I continue to fight in this war that should have never been a war in a first place.

I fight to be me.

-BFoundAPen

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