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| A
Girl Amongst Boys by
Joshua Cole |
I
know that I felt different from the girls in my preschool. I liked
playing with boys, and they liked
me because I was more like them than other girls. I knew I was a
girl, though. So, the label of "tomboy" was placed upon
me. I was a girl amongst boys. I liked boys; I got along with them
and I wanted to look like them. I was lucky to have hand-me-downs
from older boy cousins, and I was lucky to have a mom that let me
wear them because I liked them. My mother gave up trying to put me
in a dress for temple because I cried so much about it. She did not
give me boy dress up clothes, as much as I would have liked them.
She just left me with a baby sitter, which is, of course, a million
times better than being forced into a dress.
I grew up as a tomboy, but I was socialised into mixed environments.
I played Little League baseball and soccer, but I also took ballet
and acrobatics, and I joined the Girl Scouts. I was an androgynous
kid, and I remember getting funny looks when I wore my ballet attire
or bathing suits, because people thought I was a boy. It was embarrassing
to be mistaken as a boy in front of my parents, but deep down, I
liked it. There was something right about it.
It was good to grow up in the 80s because it really was okay to be
a tomboy. It was acceptable for a girl to wear boys' clothes and
play Little League. It was okay when you were a kid. By middle school
in the early 90s, it was awkward, and by high school in the mid-90s,
it was weird and basically unacceptable. All of the other girls were
becoming women, and I did not really want to. I reluctantly began
wearing women's' clothes and growing out my hair because high school
is hard enough without being a social outcast.
In high school, I began to notice attractions toward other girls,
but I quickly dismissed them because it was, in my head, "gross," "wrong," and "perverted." That
idea of wrongness came from my environment of conformity, and there
was very little deviation from that prescribed norm in my school.
I had several boyfriends, but they all ended up being more like buddies
to me. My peer group became mostly male, just like my early childhood.
I wanted to be "one of the guys," but again, I was a girl
amongst boys, and I knew that. I was jealous of their haircuts and
their clothes and their bodies, but I just as quickly dismissed these
thoughts as I did my attractions towards girls.
By college, the uncomfortability of feminine conformity was heavier
than ever. My college was even more homogenous than my high school,
and it was becoming harder to believe I was like the young women
around me. I believed that if I could find a boyfriend, everything
would be "normal," but in the middle of my freshman year,
I had an undeniable crush on a girl. I thought it must mean I was
bisexual, because I still had a fascination with boys, a fascination
that I mistook for attraction.
I had a girlfriend for a year, and in our relationship, my boy personality
started to show itself. There was definitely a boyish aura around
me, and my girlfriend (her name was Laura) told me that she was attracted
to that. Her partner before me was a feminine man. She was attracted
to androgyny. I was disgusted by the idea. I did not want to be androgynous,
I did not want to be a boyish girl. I tried hard to be a girlish
girl, but it just did not work anymore. Laura encouraged me to find
the boy in my head. She knew there was a boy there. I knew it, too,
but I absolutely denied it and it made me miserable. I did not want
it. I wanted to be the girl I was supposed to be.
After we broke up, I saw the movie we had been meaning to see all
year, Boys Don't Cry, the Kimberly Peirce film about Brandon Teena.
It struck something deep in me as I watched it, but again my head
did not want to know it, so I said outloud, "When Laura sees
this movie, she will think of me." I respected Brandon for being
able to live as a man. It was something I could not tell myself I
wanted to do, but desparately inside, Brandon and I shared something
other people could never understand. I thought Brandon and I were
alone in the world, and Brandon was murdered ...
Soon after seeing the movie, I started to use a different name for
myself. It was partly because I always disliked my excessively girly
name, and partly because I wanted a boy-like name. I went from Belinda
to Bailey, but I really did not tell very many people. I introduced
myself as Bailey to people who did not know me before, but the rest
of the world still called me Belinda. I suppose I would have been
embarrassed to ask them to call me Bailey and have them ask why.
I still did not know why, really.
In August, I made a friend. Hir name is Jessie, and sie worked for
a queer youth organization. We were just chatting, but sie ended
up introducing me to transgender. I had not heard the word. I did
not know what it is. Sie explained it to me, and introduced me to
some transboys my age. I was shocked, but also extremely relieved.
I was not alone in the world, and this was who I was, just like these
other college-aged females living as boys. I took my time, though;
I wanted to be sure. I talked online with some FTMs and asked a lot
of questions. I was not sure I wanted to live full-time as a male,
and I definitely was not sure about medical transition.
In talking to other FTMs, I came out as trans, but I was identifying
as gender neutral, and using the name Bailey. I was not a boy like
they were. In November, I met some of the guys in person. It was
great. We all belonged with each other, and there was nothing to
be embarrassed about. It was here that I met my friend, Michael.
He was a few months into his medical transition, and it was really
an amazing thing to see. I could barely believe it. His voice, only
just starting to change, was unmistakably a male voice. People looked
at me, and saw "lesbian," but with Michael, you could only
see, "boy." I wanted that. I came out as an FTM.
In February, we all met again at the True Spirit Conference, a nationwide
FTM conference. The place was full of FTMs. I remember being amazed
at all of the guys on testosterone, and how masculine their bodies
and voices were. Michael was not alone now. I was jealous of all
of them. I wanted to be on testosterone. I changed my name from Bailey
to Joshua, a name my mother liked. I wanted to be a boy, and I knew
that I needed a more obviously masculine name so I could better get
that across. People kept assuming I was a lesbian named Bailey. Well,
now people started to assume I was a lesbian named Josh, but I was
getting closer.
I did gender therapy all spring, and when I came back to school in
fall for my senior year, my name was legalized. In the end of October,
I started low-dose testosterone, a decision I had made in therapy.
I came out as femme identified during the spring, as well. I realized
that I did not want to go full-force into living as a male. I never
wanted to be full-time or "stealth." I wanted to hold on
to my queer identity, and I wanted to explore my femme identity,
but I definitely wanted testosterone. My dose was too low, at first.
Nothing happened, so in the next February, I changed my method and
dosage, but remained low-dose. The changes started to happen. My
voice dropped, and my body started to change.
I graduated from college and moved out on my own. For the first time,
I was really passing. Being out of school and in a place where no
one knew me was a blessing and a curse. It was a weird thing to get
used to, though. I never had so many people assume I was male and
then continue to believe it after I started talking.
A few months have gone by, and I have changed some more. My voice
is a baritone, and my face has squared off. It is still strange to
have people assume I am male, because I do not know what to do about
that. I want that, I know, but I also want to be out as trans. It
just does not seem to come up in conversation, and so I am unintentionally
stealth. The people I work with think I am a young looking guy. People
assume I am gay, and I like that. It is because I am a femme guy,
and it is perceived as gay. Men hit on me.
It makes me a little sad when lesbians look past me because they
think I am a guy. Although I was never really a lesbian it is hard
to give up all of my old female identity. I identify as a gayboy
because my behaviors fit so well into the stereotype of gay men.
Even though I want to identify as a femme boy and still have a fascination
with men, even a real attraction toward them, I do not think I could
have a successful relationship with a biological male. I am attracted
to other FTMs, and my relationships with them tend to be the most
successful. I am attracted to their masculinity and their female
bodies, and I like being seen together in public as a gay couple.
I know that even if I end up with a woman, our relationship will
still be queer.
I know that I am read as male now. It can be frustrating to have
people make assumptions about my past, about a boy childhood I did
not have and about who I am now. I know what it is like to be a woman.
I know things that biological men will never know. However, I transitioned
for myself. I wanted Testosterone so that my body, my face and my
voice would match the person in my head. My friend, Michael, put
it so well when he said, "I can look in the mirror, and finally
see myself." So society's assumptions and perceptions do not
mean very much because I am so much happier with myself. If I am
read as male, even though it is not entirely correct, so be it. That
is okay, because I know who I am, and who I was. I remember.
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| All
images and content copyright © Joshua Cole 2007.
All Rights Reserved. |
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