I don't remember thinking about gender much at all in my earliest memories. I played with toys. I wore clothes. I was just a child, doing things I enjoyed and wearing things I found comfortable and fun.
The first time I remember becoming aware of the significance of gender was when a well-meaning adult asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I answered that I wanted to play football. I wanted to go to college in Nebraska and play for the Nebraska Cornhuskers. The adult laughed as if it was the most preposterous thing he had ever heard and informed me that I couldn't, because I was a girl. I was shocked. I remember thinking about it and processing that information for a long time after that, and coming to the reluctant conclusion that it really was true-- I was a girl and there were no girls in football. That was the first moment I can remember when my gender felt like something itchy and wrong and ill-fitting. Or maybe it was myself that was itchy and wrong and ill-fitting? Either way, I was forced to accept I was stuck in this and it sucked. I was going to have to figure out a plan B.
I liked wearing my hair short. My dad hated short hair and often quoted the Bible verse about a woman's hair being her glory. Other men and boys echoed the sentiment. Women at church would remark about how it was such a shame I had short hair because I'd be so lovely with it long. I constantly felt guilty and wondered if something must be wrong with me for preferring my hair short. I became concerned that nobody would ever love me with short hair. I worried about it a lot, but I really couldn't stand having long hair. I tried to let it grow out several times, but would end up cutting it off again in a fit of unbearable discomfort. I'd feel both immense relief and happiness...and guilt and anxiety, knowing the negative comments would be rolling in soon.
I was raised to follow traditional Biblical gender roles, meaning women were not allowed to teach or lead. They were to be submissive and obedient. I didn't feel like I had any real female role models. I remember learning vaguely about Joan of Arc's existence, although it was very hush hush and skimmed over and accompanied by some grumbles that signified there was something bad about her. I was fascinated. I wasn't allowed to learn more, but I remember sort of tucking away the idea that there was someone else out there in time and space who seemed like me in some way. I remember learning about the plot of Mulan when it came out, even though I wasn't allowed to watch it, I felt really excited about it. In real life, everyone I looked up to was male, but I wasn't allowed to be like them. I was supposed to be an obedient, quiet, submissive woman. I tried to balance a line between emulating all the things I liked and admired about men and boys, and not getting in trouble or making anyone upset.
As I got toward later elementary years, I was drawn to boy clothes almost exclusively, I just thought I looked cool. My 5th grade year, I picked out my entire back-to-school wardrobe from the boy's section, but I still wore dresses on Wednesdays and Sundays for chapel and church services as required, and I didn't mind.
I remember learning about the term "tomboy". I never felt like I was a tomboy, because everyone said tomboys hated wearing dresses and were good at sports. I wished I could be a tomboy, because that sounded really cool, but I didn't seem to fit in that box either. I had many typically "girly" interests--I loved playing with dolls and playing dress-up, looked forward to wearing makeup, enjoyed painting my nails, etc.
I still enjoyed tons of stuff that was considered typically "boyish" though. I attribute much of this to the fact that I loved doing anything with my dad. Computers, racing, watching sports, lifting weights, everything outdoors, and more. I'm fortunate that I was allowed to participate in that stuff as much as I was!
I remember in my middle school years, I wanted desperately to skateboard, but the only people I knew who skated were boys. All of them brushed me off when I tried to join in or talk to them about it. I wanted to play football with the boys out in the field next to the church. Same result. "Why don't you go find the girls and play with them." I remember being told by an adult that boys don't like girls trying to compete with them in their space, so to just let boys be boys and stay out of their interests. I gave up trying to learn and just stuck to watching skate videos and football games at home and "being a poser". I didn't form very close friendships with other girls either generally, because I tended to come across as weird to them and we didn't seem to have much in common. I bonded with whichever girls didn't seem to mind in whatever ways we could, but they most often had much closer friendships with other girls and eventually our friendship would taper off as those strengthened.
I don't remember when this happened first, but I remember many times hearing the "hilarious story" of the bill my parents received from the hospital after my birth. My first name is typically male, so the hospital had mistakenly billed my parents for a circumcision, as was routine. My parents laughed, "the doctor must have aimed a little too low!" Its the first time I remember entertaining the idea of being born as a boy. I was definitely beginning to associate the idea of being male with positive ideas, like being cool and fun...and the idea of being female felt uncomfortable, restrictive, bad.
As puberty was on the horizon, suddenly so much of life began to revolve around romantic relationships and everyone's worth was so tied up in what the opposite sex thought of them. All the generalizations about men and women and all the pop culture stereotyped gender roles were unavoidable. I remember hearing the complaints women made about men, and the complaints men made about women. In my inexperienced mind, I concluded, I'm not like women! I would never get upset about stuff while the football game was on! I'd totally love to go camping! It was clear to me that men just wanted to do fun things, and women always ruined it for some reason by being annoying? They wanted jewelry and dumb stuff for some reason, I didn't want any of that. I knew which side I'd rather be on. I focused much of my energy at that point on becoming perfect wife material, and separating myself from identifying with and relating to other women.
I was unknowingly feeding into my own growing internalized misogyny. I hated the way I saw women acting and being portrayed and being talked about and I couldn't relate to it one bit. I wasn't anything like "those women", that disgusted me. I was a "good woman", different from all of them. I was going to do everything men wanted, be the best companion, then we'd live blissfully ever after together. This was the beginning of my life as a "cool girl".
It shaped my romantic relationships in many ways I didn't expect. Men did seem excited and appreciative at first about our shared interests and the fact that I was "low maintenance" compared to those "other women", however, it inevitably wore off. After a short time, my partners wouldn't allow me to join them in activities associated with our shared interests anymore, because I'd be the only girl or girlfriend there. "Its just for the guys, you understand, honey? Why don't you go have a girl's night?" But I didn't have girls. I just had him and my guy friends that quickly became HIS guy friends. So I'd just end up sitting at home by myself, while my partner and all our friends were out doing fun things I wanted to do.
In our shared life, I did the entirety of the housework despite often working outside the home at times significantly more than my partners. I did all the grocery shopping and cooked every meal- hot dinner on the table each night as he returned from work, packed lunches, hot breakfast in the morning. All the laundry, all the cleaning. I submitted myself dutifully in bed to his every whim. I rationally controlled my emotions, never complained or criticized, never let myself seem grumpy or sad, especially around my period. I carefully chose my words to always affirm him and stroke his ego. I kept myself attractive and presentable in his presence according to his specific preferences. I'd sit silently as he exclaimed his attractions to other women ("because its just guys being guys") while I would never, ever bat an eye at or speak to another man so as not to arouse his jealousy. I'd listen intently to him vent about his work day, I'd give a massage, I'd wait on him hand and foot. I worked incredibly hard to be any man's "dream girl" thinking this was the key to the life I wanted. Permission and approval to be myself.
But not only did it NOT do that, it created a power dynamic in which I was always at a disadvantage. Dismissive, disrespectful, and downright abusive behavior would start to blossom and escalate. My partners would always feel loved and secure and satisfied with the relationship, but I did not. I was miserable and sad and isolated and hurt. Suddenly I was finding myself in the same shoes as all those "other women" I so desperately wanted to separate myself from. I didn't understand why I was being treated this way. I didn't do any of those things men said made them hate women. So why was I still being treated so horribly? I didn't realize at the time that it didn't matter one bit. It has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do. You could never earn your way to good treatment. I was still a girl, and that was the role of a girl in the relationship. That was the way girls were treated, period. The pattern repeated itself, and I continually found myself becoming frustratingly like those dreaded "other girls" at the end of my relationships-- complaining, crying, lonely, wanting the tiniest bit of kindnesses, but the more I asked to be treated with basic respect, the more my partners became resentful, violent, distant. Just like I was taught when I was a child-- Only men deserve respect. Women were just to serve and submit.
When I was 19 years old and living alone after my already failed first marriage despite my impressive efforts to be the perfect embodiment of the perfect submissive wife, I intentionally cross-dressed for the very first time. I bound down my breasts, and took pictures of myself posing with my baseball cap on and no makeup. I don't remember why I decided to try it, but I definitely felt like nobody could ever find out.
It wasn't long after that I found out about FTM transgender people online. I was extremely intrigued and researched it exhaustively. My boyfriend at the time discovered it and became concerned. He got angry and began demanding reassurance that I wasn't identifying with it. I brushed it off and lied "Of course not! I just find it interesting." Ultimately I concluded that it must not apply to me because I didn't experience the "always knowing I was a boy" or the extreme examples of body dysphoria that were described, so I tucked all the information away and tried not to think of it again, even though I was still inexplicably drawn to anything and everything I ran across that had to do with gender nonconforming.
One day many years later, when that boyfriend had become my husband, I was having yet another meltdown over a haircut. It was such a regular occurrence over the years, he had nicknamed it my hair crisis. He demanded to know why I just couldn't stand having certain hairstyles even though they looked beautiful on me, why I was so picky with clothing even when it looked perfect, why those things made me SO uncomfortable that I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. I sat there analyzing it. All in an instant, it suddenly dawned on me that the things that bothered me are feminine.
All the pieces suddenly came together and everything made sense. I was constantly frustrated with wanting everything to be "plain", I kept trying to describe, I just like things plain! I didn't want "pretty" or "fancy" stuff unless it was an outfit to dress up in. I hated ruffles and ruching and beading and sequins and embroidered flourishes and all the feminine touches they put on female clothing.
After that, I embarked on an experiment-- I explored only wearing what I wanted to wear, regardless of what I felt was expected of me. It was much more difficult than I expected. I worried constantly about what people thought. Would people notice and ask me about it? Would they think I was becoming a lesbian or "letting myself go"? Would my partner still find me attractive? Would anyone still find me attractive? This period of time unfortunately coincided with my husband at the time having an affair. When discovered, he admitted that my decrease in femininity (alongside many, many other issues between us at that time) had contributed to him no longer finding me attractive.
I reevaluated my priorities, and determined at that time it was more important for me to try to keep my family together. So I deeply examined my feelings of discomfort toward femininity. It was then that I uncovered the extreme internalized misogyny and began to work through it, bit by bit. I realized that my experiences had revealed there was no such thing as those "other women". The difference between me and them was an illusion. I felt for the first time like I had a connection to womanhood. We were all struggling that struggle. As I confronted my feelings and beliefs, I replaced the negative ideas I had about femininity and womanhood, and my strong aversions to it lessened. However, I still didn't make my full realization about the role I was trying to play. After that point, I wore wigs, I grew out my hair, I always put on makeup, etc. thinking it was the right thing to do to try to save my marriage. Of course it didn't, because that wasn't the issue. It was during the split up that I learned about personal boundaries. This knowledge completely changed my life. Being a "good woman" didn't have to mean being a doormat, and it wasn't wrong to expect respect and reciprocation from my partner.
I reverted to my androgynous style, but couldn't shake the increased approval and positive attention I got when I presented feminine. I was constantly torn between trying to feel like myself, and feeling the assurance of acceptance and approval. I flip-flopped a lot. I experimented with being even more masculine than I'd ever been, I'd vacillate between feeling confident and disgusting. Similarly, if I broke down and femme'd it up in order to feel attractive, I'd simultaneously feel desirable and uncomfortable, like putting on a mask to use as a social crutch, and that everyone's compliments were fake, to a false presentation of myself. I panicked over the idea that perhaps nobody would ever find me attractive as "myself" whatever that might be. What if another partner left me and couldn't love me like this? I couldn't feel comfortable in anything.
Well-meaning friends tried to give me advice on how to do masculinity "right". Tried to tell me to walk differently, dance differently, which clothes and colors to wear, how to style my hair. Constantly commenting on and criticizing my ability to "pass" as more male. That created just as much stress and anxiety for me as feeling compelled to look more feminine.
I didn't want to change all those things about myself. I just wanted to like the things I like and wear the things I want to wear. Nobody seemed comfortable with whatever that was, so neither was I. Getting dressed for the day was fraught with more anxiety than I cared to admit. I periodically revisited the idea of whether or not I might be transgender. Was I just afraid and in denial? I was definitely afraid. Was there a box I fit in? I didn't know. Who the heck was I?
Maybe none of this would have been confusing at all if I'd never been told that girls can't do all of the things I wanted to do. Maybe none of this would have been confusing at all if I'd never been taught that women are inferior and a nuisance.
Maybe none of this would have been confusing if I wouldn't have been taught that from an early age that my survival and happiness would depend on my level of desirability to men.
Over the years I've seen more and more women doing the things I was told I couldn't do, and I always feel deeply, painfully envious and full of regret. I wonder, how did they get through when I couldn't? I have to grieve for all the opportunities I lost, for the person I would be, if I hadn't accepted all those lies as truths.
These days I have become more comfortable with the idea of claiming the label "nonbinary". I don't fit neatly into society's expected presentation or roles of "male" or "female". My lived experiences resonate very much with being assigned female at birth, and that isn't something that will go away, no matter how much I never felt like I fit in that box either.
The pronouns I use are they/them.
I wish there was a way I could show everyone what gender dysphoria feels like so they could understand, in that intimate and unshakable way, the way we experience it. The deep consistent knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that something isn't right, doesn't fit. And also the feeling of gender euphoria! When for the first time, something feels like home. Until then, I hope that those of you who don't share this experience will trust and respect us who do. 🖤💜🤍💛
