XX

Growing up, I referred to myself as a tomboy: the thought of putting makeup on my face made my skin itch and crawl, the concept of wearing a skirt or a girly shirt made it feel like I was looking at a stranger in the mirror. But still, I thought, I'm a girl. There's no "right" way to be a girl. I can wear baggy clothes and high tops, save my dresses for special occasions, grow up to be a woman. When I was a teenager, I felt trapped, confused, wondering why being a girl was so strange and unenjoyable. I just wasn't very good at it, but like I said, there's no "right way" to be a girl.

In my early twenties, I became increasingly confused and lonely, wondering if maybe I wasn't a girl after all, if maybe I should try to be somebody else. And so I did. I'm a boy, I said, I like short hair and button ups and girls. And so that's who I was. In college I changed my name for the first time, dressing up secretly in clothes from the men's section, cutting my hair short and dyeing it black in an attempt to ease some dysphoria. And for a while, it worked. I started to feel better. I was a boy.

Until one day, I wasn't. I'd wake up feeling confused, wondering why suddenly, the idea of male didn't feel right to me. If I didn't feel like a boy, and I didn't feel like a girl, then what else was there? It felt like the only option was to try and learn to be feminine, no matter how unusual it felt. "She" made my skin crawl, "he" belonged to somebody else, but picking one was the only way to survive in a world that sorts people by parts, like machines. My hair grew back out, I started to wear makeup, thinking if I looked more feminine I'd feel better in my body. Everything felt wrong.

In school, standing between the bathrooms labeled by sex, grappling with the inner turmoil of trying to decide where I belonged, I would give up on choosing. In public, every "girl" and "woman" made me feel alienated, and I never knew why. It's hard to survive in a society which labels us by looks, choosing this box or that box. What if I don't like either? What if I don't want to choose?

In my mid twenties I learned what nonbinary meant. A foreign concept, dismissed by the binary like swatting away a bumblebee. How can you be nonbinary, are you a computer? Finding ways to express myself became harder and harder, constantly tugging at the labels thrust upon me - she, woman, feminine. The struggle to match my body to my subconscious became a fight for self-acceptance, experimenting with clothing and hairstyles and names. Nobody tells you that you don't have to choose. We exist in boxes, maybe, or we float along in between through time and space, invalidated by the pressures of a cisnormative world.

Nobody tells you the truth, when you're young. Nobody told me I was meaningful the way I was, fighting so hard to fit in a society I didn't understand, crumbling a little more at every encounter that referred to me as "she"! I never had to be a girl, really, if it meant loving myself. I exist in between like the best of both worlds, making people angry simply by existing. I don't have to be a girl, or dress in a way that fits my gender, or live to appease the rest of society. I never began to experience self-love until I was twenty seven and began to change my body, finally giving up on the expectations thrust on me my whole life.

Sometimes, I feel misunderstood. If you're not a boy and you're not a girl what are you, an alien? An abomination? I'm me. I never really knew who "me" was until I grew up, and that's okay. It's okay to not know. It's okay to be you, for you, and not other people's ideas of you.

I want to challenge the idea of gender roles. A man wearing a skirt, a woman with short hair. I can understand people being confused about my gender: I'm not a man, but some days I am a boy. I have this vision in my head of myself some years into the future: a stubbly face filled with makeup, hair grown out past my shoulders, the look of a person that makes passersby question their sexuality upon a glance at me. I have this vision of a person in a dress - too manly to be a woman, too girly to be a man. Constant questions, as if my identity matters more than the comfort of those who don't understand.

I don't think it's necessary, to understand. But there's a difference between questioning and invalidating, and a lot of people cross the line that separates them.