I'm Fine
Their body ached. They could feel it as their heart pushed blood through the broken vessels and throbbed against their skin. With time, the bruises would fade, and they could pretend to forget that it happened.
It wasn't their fault. They just had to keep telling themselves that. For some reason, they were just born different or something. They felt uncomfortable in their own skin, and not just because of the injuries. Everyone called them a girl because they were. That's what the doctors said when they were born, and doctors are like adults but really smart. They must know what they're talking about.
But being called a girl felt weird. It just didn't quite fit. But being a boy wasn't right either. They tried to tell the other girls at school once. None of them understood, and that was the last day that they'd had any friends.
The girls would gossip and the boys would tease. They just tried to keep to themselves after that. It was lonely, but it wasn't so bad. It hurt when the girls would laugh about how they sometimes acted like a boy. Why was playing with mud and bugs considered a boy thing? Girls could do it too. Boys would mock them because they would get their dresses muddy and dirty and still try to play pretend like the girls did.
It hurt when the other kids told them that they couldn't possibly be a person. There are girls and there are boys. For some reason, they couldn't make up their mind and pick one.
The teachers tried once. One teacher told a group of girls from their class to include them in games at recess. It was a nice effort but it didn't work. They tried really hard to be like the other girls, but they just didn't understand why they wanted to spend recess gossiping. When they weren't gossiping, they would make up stories. That part was fun, but there was little to no adventure in their stories. It was almost always a romance where they would be saved by a prince. Sometimes they would pretend to be witches and make love potions and spells.
They wanted to be the saviour. The girls said that it was boys who would do the rescuing. Since they weren't a boy, they weren't allowed to do that. When they were a witch, they wanted to make potions that could hypnotize people or change their skin colour or cast a spell to finish chores for them. The girls would stare at them and ask why they would want that. After all, weren't girls supposed to do the housework for their husbands? And weren't girls supposed to listen first and talk second? Hypnotizing people to make them do your bidding was a boy thing.
And then they would insist that they weren't a boy. But they couldn't just act like those other girls either. It made them feel really weird inside. Trying to be super girly made their insides feel like they were being squished.
Once, they tried to play with the boys too. They would all say that girls can't play ball hockey or basketball with them. A couple of them were nice and let them play four-square and tag once. That only lasted until they tripped and ripped their dress. When they tore off the extra fabric, those nice boys started teasing them about stripping their clothes off for attention.
Why weren't they just allowed to be a person? Why did being a boy or a girl matter so much? It didn't seem that long ago that they were in kindergarten and everyone played with everyone. The biggest drama was which kid got the red car and which kid got the monster truck. It didn't matter who was a girl or who was a boy. Everyone was a kid and they could play with whoever and whatever they wanted.
Suddenly, they were eight and the girls and boys started to pay more attention to their differences. Then they were ten and any girl who didn't have a crush on a boy was lagging behind. Any boys who didn't have to reject a crush were doing something wrong since no girls liked them.
Now they're all eleven and learning about how their bodies will start to change soon. All of their classmates seemed so excited. Boys would get really taller, faster, and stronger as they grew into men. Girls would start to wear bras and pads as their bodies prepared for womanhood. All they could think about was the horror of this happening to them.
When they got the nerve to ask the teacher about how they could stop this from happening, they were met with laughter. The class laughed and asked why they wouldn't want to grow up into the woman they were supposed to be. The teacher laughed and said that puberty was a natural part of growing up. Everyone had to go through it and sometimes it was awkward, but that's just a part of being a teenager, then an adult.
If their life was going to be breasts and hips and housework and nail polish and skirts and dresses and all of those other girly things, they didn't want it. They didn't want to grow breasts. They didn't want a period. They didn't want to only wear feminine clothes and talk about feminine things while doing feminine activities
Sometimes, they liked the dresses and skirts. Sometimes, they would prefer to wear a jersey and shorts or a vest and pants. Sometimes they liked doing their nails and drawing and reading. Sometimes they would rather run around, hunt bugs, climb trees, and get dirty. Why weren't they allowed to just be a person instead of a boy or a girl?
Apparently, it was because it was natural to be a boy or a girl. They just couldn't understand why it had to be that way.
That puberty lesson yesterday had devastated them, and they couldn't understand why. They knew that they didn't want to grow up into a woman, but they didn't know why. The other girls seemed excited about becoming women, but not them. Were they immature? Were they actually a freak like the other kids said sometimes?
Yesterday was a turning point. After all it was after all that puberty talk that….
They were just happy their parents were working late last night. They made themselves some KD and baby carrots for supper and then hid in their room to do "homework" for the rest of the night. When their mom checked on them, it was easy enough to turn in their chair and give her the lie.
This morning though, their luck might run out. Their muscles ached and they couldn't walk across their bedroom fluidly. They were stiff and sore and couldn't hide it properly.
Of course, when they went downstairs for breakfast, their parents would notice. Kids don't walk stiffly like they were for no reason.
"Honey, are you okay?" their mom asked.
"I'm fine."
"But you're moving so slowly and hardly moving your joints. Are you feeling unwell? Or are you hurt?"
"I'm fin mom. Nothing is wrong."
"You know it's wrong to lie. I know there's something wrong. Just tell me and I'll fix it for you." She said.
"There's nothing wrong! And you can't fix it!" they shouted.
Their mom clicked her tongue, "Now that you've admitted there's a problem, you should just tell me. I'm your mom. It's my job to decide what needs fixing and whether or not I can."
"You aren't listening. I just said there's nothing wrong."
"And I just told you that's a lie. It seems like you aren't listening to me. Now tell me or I'll find out for myself."
"Nothing. Is. Wrong."
"Well then," their mom strode over and grabbed their shirt. They hissed in pain as their mom pulled up their sleeves and lifted their shirt. "I suppose that this is nothing?"
The bruises on their arms were darker than they expected. They were hot to the touch and ached when their sleeves brushed against them. The bruises on their stomach were barely red at all, but they were there.
"Sweetheart, tell me what happened. It looks like you've been in a fight. Your father and I have told you so many times that you can't keep acting out like this. What are we going to do when the other kids' parents call us? What are we supposed to tell them about your behaviour? You used to be such a sweet kid." Their mom lamented.
"I wasn't fighting." They said. It was technically true. They didn't hit anyone.
"And these bruises just came from nowhere?" Their mom looked at them with skepticism, "And you just keep lying. Your father and I are going to have a talk about this. We need to do something about this behaviour of yours. I will not have my daughter picking fights just for fun."
"I'm not picking fights! The other kids just don't like me!"
Their mom scoffed, "I'm sure they would like you better if you didn't try to fight them. Just behave and your classmates will like you. Making friends isn't difficult."
"I'm not fighting them! They just don't like me because…"
"Because?"
"Because I'm a freak!"
"No honey, you're not a freak. You're my darling little girl." Their mom cooed, "You've got a strong personality, but you're just like any other girl."
"No I'm not! I don't want to be a girl!" They shouted. Immediately, they regretted it. This was supposed to stay secret. They saw their mom's eyes narrow at them and stare. Their mom's stare hurt more than their classmates did.
"Honey, you're a girl. There are so many ways to be a girl. Not all of them will be for you, but that doesn't make you any less of a young woman. Where is this coming from?" their mom asked.
"We had the health class yesterday. You know, the puberty one. All the other girls were excited to learn about how they're all going to grow up and become women and I just can't stand it! I don't want my chest to grow! I don't want to start bleeding every month!" They felt a sting behind their eyes and tried not to cry.
"That won't happen for a couple years at least. You still have time. Some day, your body will start to change and you'll grow into a beautiful young woman. You'll grow up, you'll meet a man, date, get married, get a job, have a family. You have so much to look forward to."
"No mom, I don't want that to ever happen!"
"You will. You're probably just lagging behind a little. Soon you'll understand what a pleasure it is to become a woman."
"No, I mean I don't ever want to be a woman." Why didn't their mom understand?
"Are you saying that you want to be a boy? Because you are not one. You are a girl." Their mom said.
"No, I don't want to be a boy." They said.
"Good. You're a girl and some day you'll be a woman. Eventually you'll grow into it and like it. Becoming a woman will fill you with confidence and empower you. You have such a strong will and personality, you'll be the talk of the locker room in high school." Their mom said with a smile on her face.
They couldn't understand. They didn't want boys to be talking about them. They didn't want to grow up into a woman. They just wanted to be themselves. No chest, no period, no deep voice, no pronounced muscles. Just a person.
"But I don't want-"
"It's okay. You'll grow into it. Now I do need to call your teacher. If this fighting is occurring during school hours, she needs to know so that she can keep you in line." Their mom said, dismissing them.
Their stomach sank. This would just make the bullies worse. They didn't even snitch, but the teacher would still single them out about fighting now. They didn't even fight! They just ran away and got caught. It wasn't their fault!
They pulled some cereal out of the cupboard and made their breakfast. It wasn't fair. They did what their mom said and tried to be themselves. That got them picked on. Then they tried ignoring it. That made the bullying worse. Then they tried asking a teacher about what made them different. That got them chased and kicked.
Now they would be the only one facing consequences. They just wanted to have an answer for why they felt so weird when people called them a girl. Maybe it was the same reason why it felt weird to say their name.
They just didn't understand and it hurt.
At least there were only a couple of weeks left until summer. During the summer they would have two months away from the kids at school. Even if their parents made them go outside, the backyard was safe. It was trespassing for anyone to come through the gates without permission.
And they could have fun by themselves anyways. They could sit under the tree and read a library book or they could pick up a stick and be a knight who wins a tournament. If their parents allowed it, maybe they could get a small container and turn it into a terrarium.
Only three weeks. Three weeks until summer vacation and freedom from bullies.
They were determined. They could make it.
