Blue & Purple

Sam sat on his usual bench in the park, ukulele in hand, yet making no sort of sound. One pale hand rested on the neck of the uke, while the other remained motionless on the strings. A light wind caused the fray of his cut-off jeans to tickle his knees, and his blonde, styled hair swayed back and forth on the top of his head. The slight chill of the wind made him shrink even further into his gray hoodie. He would have worn long pants if he had known the weather app on his phone had lied about today being a warm day.

With a sigh, Sam looked around. The park was less busy and packed than it was on most weekends, but there were still a handful of people wandering around and sitting on other benches in the area. Sam’s eyes glided from person to person before resting on a dark-skinned, androgynous-looking individual sitting by themselves on a distant bench at the opposite end of the park.

The person rocked a stylish afro, pushed to the back of their head by a bright purple headband. With purple nail polish to complement both the headband they wore as well as their musical instrument, they held a cute little purple ukulele to match, singing quietly to themselves. Hanging from their ears were sizeable pastel blue hoop earrings, with a matching blue choker necklace. To add to the ensemble, they wore light blue Converse on their feet, legs crossed at the angles, right foot tapping to the beat of the song they played. They wore high-waisted jean shorts and a cropped striped sweater of varying shades of purple. Even though this gender-ambiguous individual was one of the most fashionably coordinated people Sam had ever seen, it was the colorful ukulele which had initially caught his eye, putting his boring brown, wooden one to shame. He couldn’t hear their music from where he was in the park, but just seeing that someone he had not even met had at least one thing in common with him felt oddly comforting.

While it had always been his goal to make as little human contact as physically possible in any public space, Sam suddenly felt compelled to wander over to the bench across the park, and for the first time, he tried to actually make a friend outside of his family. At this point, befriending his brother was a hopeless case, so if he wanted any friends at all, he’d have to start actually talking to people. No one could be his friends if no one even knew him. The only problem was he had no idea how to go about talking to someone new.

“Uh, hi?” the observed person from across the park said to Sam as he approached their sitting place. They stopped strumming and waited for him to speak, filled with curiosity.

“Hi,” Sam replied awkwardly. “Can I, um... sit here?”

They looked him up and down and forced a slight smile, even though they seemed the slightest bit concerned as to what was going on. “Sure, why not?”

Sam muttered an uncomfortable “thank you” before sitting on the opposite end of the bench, propping his ukulele at his side, and leaning against the back of the bench between him and the arm rest. “I’m Sam,” he said, extending his hand out to shake theirs. “I, um... noticed you were playing uke over here while I was playing uke over there.” He held an oddly serious expression while speaking, feeling too nervous to even smile.

They laughed in an amused confusion. “That’s a weird thing to say,” they remarked casually. Now Sam laughed too, but more out of embarrassment than anything else. They reached out their hand to meet his. “I’m Rhaain.”

As they shook hands with one another, Sam tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “‘Rain’? Like... the water that falls from the clouds?”

They laughed again, placing their ukulele in the case at their feet. “You’re a funny kid. It’s spelled differently than you probably think... But yeah, I guess you can call me--” they made exaggerated air quotes and spoke in a deeper, more masculine voice to mimic his-- “‘water that falls from the clouds’.”

Sam joined in on their laughter, more genuinely this time. “That’s a cool name,” he commented.

They perked up, as if this small compliment had largely boosted their spirit. “Thanks, man! I came up with it myself,” they announced with pride, suddenly overflowing with energy and confidence, their eyes sparkling. “The name my parents gave me is Rhiana, but I hate being gendered by a fucking name, ya know?” Sam’s eyes widened, his interest suddenly peaked as Rhaain continued their rant in a frustrated tone. “Like, people look at your name on a goddamn piece of paper—these people who have never even MET you—and they automatically call you a girl and use she/her pronouns for you just because of a name? Like, really people? Can you chill with the cisnormativity? Like, UGH. It’s just really shitty, ya know?” Sam’s smile grew as Rhaain went on, expressing their feelings and words through dramatic hand movements. “ANYWAY, I wanted a nickname that didn’t make people jump to conclusions about my gender, ya know? So, I mixed up the order of some-a the letters in my name and made my own, keeping all the original letters in my birth name: R-H-A-A-I-N, pronounced ‘rain.’ Cool, right?” Sam sat in brief shock at the this kid’s passion for gender politics, and how energetic and excited they were to talk about it all. He was in too much shock to even begin to voice his feelings, so he just nodded enthusiastically. “Oh!” they quickly added. “And my pronouns are they/them/their and I don’t give a shit if you think my identity isn’t proper use of grammar, or whatever other shit cis people say as an excuse to disrespect the identity of people like me. Also, I talk a lot, if you haven’t already noticed. If you have a problem with either of these two things, not to be rude, but you might as well walk away now. I’m always down with meeting new people, but I am NOT interested in wasting my time with people who don’t respect me or the roots of what I stand for, ya got me?”

Sam sat in a beat of silence, overwhelmed with all the positive energy and information that had been thrown at him in the past minute. “No, it’s—” he began awkwardly— “I mean, I... well...” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to try and organize his thoughts. After running his hands through his hair as a result of having trouble staying still, he stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie uncomfortably. Looking Rhaain directly in the eyes, like he rarely did with anyone, he managed to get all his words out: “My birth name is Samantha. My family all use 'she' pronouns for me but I want them to use 'he.' I’m a boy. They just don’t see me as one.” He had gotten everything out in a single breath and now felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders at having said what he wanted to say.

Rhaain was beaming now. “Dude, I LOVE meeting new genderqueer people around here. There’s so fucking few in this town, ya know? Like, where the hell are they all at?!” Out of nowhere, their smile dropped and they took a moment to look and sound as genuine as they possibly could. “And... hey, man, I’m really sorry to hear about your family. Transphobic and homophobic parents and siblings are the WORST. I’m lucky enough to have my two super awesome and supportive dads, but my girlfriend’s parents are terrible! I mean, they’re supportive of her queerness, which is cool, but, MAN, do they hate me for not being cis! Thank god EILEEN is cis at least, ‘cause it’s MUCH better to be hated on from your partner’s parents instead of from your own, ya know?”

Sam stared in awe at Rhaain’s storytelling and their level of knowledge about the LGBTQ+ community, which he personally had felt so disconnected from his whole life.

“Yeah, um...” Sam interjected. “Hearing you talk about this is really cool and all, but I, um... Honestly, I have no idea what this one word you used means, and it seemed like a pretty key one?... Or, it at least seemed like it was important...”

“Oh, my bad!” Rhaain exclaimed, chuckling to themselves. They continued as if they were scolding themselves. “This is why you should never make assumptions about people. So, what do ya need to know, lil’ bro?”

Sam grinned at the variety of “dudes,” “mans,” and “bros” Rhaain was referring to him as, which boosted the confidence in his own masculinity.

“‘Genderqueer’? Not really sure what that means. I know cisgender is identifying with the gender society gives you, and transgender is the opposite of that, but I’ve never heard of ‘genderqueer’.”

“Gotcha! Genderqueer basically is just everything that isn’t cisgender, including both binary and non-binary identities. It’s like how the word queer by itself means all sexualities that aren’t straight, ya know?”

Sam stared blankly, struggling with Rhaain’s loaded vocabulary. “Binary?”

“The gender binary is male and female,” Rhaain explained, speaking with understanding towards his ignorance. “Cisgender and transgender are both binary identities, because no matter what a cis or trans person’s body is like or what parts they have, that person identifies as either a girl or a boy, a woman or man. Non-binary identities are neither girls or boys, women or men. Gender is a spectrum far beyond two separated boxes of gender, despite what society tells you. Of course, some non-binary and genderqueer people also identify as trans, but not all trans people identify and non-binary or genderqueer—ya got me?” They paused to allow a little time for Sam to take this all in. He looked at them with an empty stare. “Society’s just a massive cisnormative, cis-exclusive, transmisogynistic piece of shit, ya know?”

“Damn,” Sam replied quietly. “That’s a whole lot I didn’t know.”

Rhaain giggled. “Cool shit, right?” Sam nodded, feeling more energized and excited than he had since he was a young child. “I should introduce you to all my queer friends,” Rhaain continued in an exaggerated whisper. “I’m tryna hunt down all the queers in this town so we can all come to together and take over the world. Down with cis, ya know?”

Sam let out the biggest and loudest laugh he had ever heard from himself. “I would really love that. I don’t know anyone, um... queer...” He paused. “Other than myself.”

“Everyone needs a community,” Rhaain told him with a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, Sam. You’re not alone, I promise.” They lifted their arms to prompt a hug, asking with their eyes whether or not Sam was into that sort of thing. Sam pushed back tears of joy and nodded yes, going in for the hug. They held each other tightly.

“Thank you, Rhaain,” Sam told them over their shoulder.

“Of course, Sam!” they exclaimed. Sam could hear the warm smile in their voice. “I’d do anything for my friends.”

They held each other for a long while. As they did, Sam thought about finally having and being someone’s “friend”—the first person who had finally understood him and accepted him for who he was. With a relieved smile, he allowed a couple happy tears to trickle down his soft cheeks.