Chapter 6.

There was not much consideration given to gender when I was in kindergarten and preschool. It was something that existed, but no one gave it enough thought to talk about. Back then, we were just young children who played together, ran through the mud, and dressed however they pleased. We stumbled, ripped our clothes, and laughed as the blood started to run. Even in kindergarten I didn’t wear much girl-ish clothes. Prior to you rolling your eyes, yes, I am aware that clothing is genderless, but this was almost twenty years ago. People assumed someone wearing a dress was a girl when they saw her. In kindergarten, I had short, wild hair, and I detested wearing dresses. I also always wore pants and wide-fitting t-shirts. I didn’t have any girlish hobbies. I enjoyed playing fetch, going for runs with my friends, and spending hours climbing our tree. Even though I can only recall tidbits of this period, I have happy memories of my friends and I spending almost every week at our own soccer field in the neighborhood. Do you remember the game ‘House’? I was always the father in the game, maybe that should have rung some bells earlier, but it didn’t.
Then, a few years later, school became the greatest battle and I focused more on surviving than being my true, genuine self because suddenly, there were people who judged you. Who commented on your boyish look, who said that you should change or otherwise you would end up cut by their sharp words. And like a switch, it became something to be embarrassed of. “You look like a boy.” Was an insult to me twenty years ago. Now, looking back on it, I wish people said it more often. When I dreamt, I always had a flat chest. It was puffed out, like I was proud. My hair was short and even now, all I wish to do is shave my head. Buzz cuts look genuinely fantastic to me but I can’t go through with it. Hair had become an important role in my life, it protected me. And the longer it grew, the more I could hide in it. Around high school times, it reached the end of my back, it was like a blanket that I could hide myself in when things got scary and overwhelming.
Cutting it short was the first thing I did after transitioning, it felt freeing, as though I could finally be myself. But with being myself also came my anxiety, and anxiety had always kept me from cutting my hair off too long. My protective layer was gone and I was shoved out into the world. The prejudices and the gazes of strangers, glued on me. Now that I dress more masculine and have rather distinctive hair so that I stick out even more. I stick out now, and it still scares the living daylights out of me. Being perceived is such a scary thing to me and there are days in which I can still not bring up the courage to pull it off. There are days where I think it’s better to let my hair grow long again. There are days where I think that I should wear dresses again because then, people will perceive me as a woman and then they don’t want my existence to end just because I’m a trans guy. The world is already going back in time again and we can not afford to line up, waiting for slaughter.