I’m a girl, boy, both...neither? The impact of feeling invisible.
T
hroughout school I was taunted by other students’ questions of “are you a boy or a girl?” I hated the
question as I knew it didn’t come from a place of mere interest or curiosity. It highlighted my already uneasy feeling that I was different than other girls. Shop attendants would ask my mum, “what does your son want?” It hurt because I knew I was “supposed to be a girl.” Born into a female body, which meant I was a girl, right? Maybe. Maybe not. I loved all the “boy things.” I hated dresses. I was a “tomboy” through and through. Eventually my mum got the message and stopped giving me dresses for birthdays. Our school decided to require uniforms, and girls had to wear skirts. I refused. I was distressed at the thought of it. Thankfully my mum spoke up for me and made me my favorite pair of trousers ever! I didn’t question everything about myself. I was competitive and challenged the boys to races, arm wrestling competitions and I also got into some fist fights. That’s just how I was. I loved that part of me. Early on, I recall only having boys as friends.
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October 2021 InSession | FMHCA.org
As I got a little older, into high school, my being different was not ok. I could see that. Neither was it ok to just have boys as friends. I didn’t fit anywhere, and at a time in my development when I wanted so much to belong, the impact was detrimental. Not only were the people my age around me, not like me, but the adults seemed different too. I didn’t see people like me on tv or in the news either. It wasn’t a conscious questioning but more of a visceral and environmental awareness that I didn’t fit anywhere. My conclusion at the time: I am inherently wrong. I didn’t date in high school and ended up marrying the first person I dated, towards the end of college. A year into my marriage, I started to question my affectional orientation as that was the only thing that seemed to make sense about my “difference.” I silenced the questions to raise my children and yet my discomfort only grew stronger. It is interesting in looking back, as I tried so very hard to fit into the female mold. I tried because I was unaware of other options. Years later I broke down in my masters group therapy class, and although the words out of my mouth were that I was gay, what I was really feeling however, was that I was male, or at least not really female. I avoided that thought. I silenced it by keeping busy. With alcohol. With food. During my internship a client asked if I was androgynous. I smiled and said maybe even though, at the time, I had no idea what that meant. Then the true inquiry began. Now at 45years old, I know I am not inherently wrong, and I know that I am not alone and there are many others who
