[Vol. 35] Learning to Love Outside "The Box"
I no longer fit, and thank god for that.
When we’re young, we’re all told to “think outside of the box” to solve the problems we’re faced with. It’s ironic, then, that as we grow up we’re taught that that kind of thinking is our problem.
My biggest source of dissatisfaction and, honestly, pain in this life has been my inability to keep all hands and feet inside that little box.
Ok, I know that sounds very “I’m not like other girls”, but that’s what growing up queer can make you feel like
– even if queerness isn’t actually that unique of an experience.
A lot of people are queer, and the world is only becoming queerer as people feel more comfortable to crack open their closet doors and express their true sexualities/gender identities openly. If you’re queer in any way shape or form, you’re one of millions strong.
All the same, I think I speak for a lot of queer people out there when I say it doesn’t always feel like that growing up. We may be millions strong, but when you don’t have access to those millions – let alone one other person – you might as well be the only one.
So, I’m here today to fill you in on some rules – outlines of “the box” – I was taught to follow (by who exactly, I don’t know).
Then I’ll show you how the identity I’m growing into breaks those rules; how it doesn’t fit into the box I thought I had to stay squeezed into.
Why? Because I know how nice it is to know that other people don’t fit, either.
You might break one of these rules too – or none of em’, or a whole different set of em’ – either way, we’re both just one of millions, honey ;)
1. If you’re born a male, you’re supposed to like girls.
Starting out with a classic here.
Got a penis? Well, there’s only one place to put that … apparently.
Not to be vulgar, but that’s literally how it goes. A baby is born, the doctor looks at the genitalia of the child, and (bam!) the child has a straight future projected for them – one where they eventually settle down and marry the man or woman of their dreams and have their children the ol’ fashion way (the way god intended it!)
And look, I don’t blame anyone (doctors or parents) for thinking that way. The narrative arch of a straight life is the norm, and, statistically speaking, it’s the more likely future for your baby.
But it’s not the future for every baby – including this baby.
Along with about 10% of other baby boys born on April 25, 1998, I was destined to break the “boys like girls and girls like boys” box from the second I left the womb.
I do not follow the rule. I like boys. Actually, I’m absolutely crazy for them – so much so that I honestly don’t understand how you couldn’t be gay.
I wouldn’t choose to be straight, even if I could.
2. If you’re born a male, you’re supposed to be masculine.
Baby boys are supposed to be into sports and fire trucks and utilitarian fashion. And I was into a lot of those things – the things I was supposed to be into.
The problem was, I had trouble not being into the things I shouldn’t have been into, like painted nails, decent conditioner, boy bands, crop tops, skin-care, and heels.
You know, your basic boy no-no’s.
Even as a little kid, I knew I couldn’t be into those things – even if I was (which I was). Even after just a few years as a sentient being on this Earth, I knew the biggest crime I could commit as a man was not being one.
So, like many little boys I imagine, I thought about my masculinity a lot – if it was enough to make me “man enough”, if my peers could see through it, if other boys felt like I did.
Letting go of my preoccupation with masculinity didn’t happen overnight – and honestly it wasn’t until recently that I started challenging it openly.
Now here I am, sitting at a cafe writing this with my nails painted, my jeans covered in white floral sew-in prints, and a text chain with my friend in which I refer to the chamomile tea I ordered as a “she” multiple times.
No, I’m not masculine. Sometimes I am, sometimes I’m not. I am whatever it is I am.
3. If you’re born a male, you’re supposed to be (and supposed to want to be) a man.
What’s that thing every doctor shouts in the delivery room as the baby’s born? The thing they say right before they assume the child’s sexuality?
“It’s a boy/girl!”
And just like that, a whole ‘nother set of expectations are laid out for that little kid – a kid who hasn’t even had a chance to figure out who they are yet.
Again, I totally see the logic behind doing this - it’s how gender has been handled for centuries (in Western culture, at least). But is it the best way? Is it even a decently good way?
For people like me, the folks that don’t fully identify with their perceived gender – the gender they were assigned at birth – this tradition is just another box; just another rule we can’t live up to.
I’ll never be enough of a man, because I’m not a man. I’m a little more complicated than that.
And, honestly, I’ve never been more ok with that than in the past few weeks. Actually, I’m not just ok with it, I kinda fucking love it.
The more I lean into my femininity - the femme version of me I almost never allowed myself to express – the more I feel like I’m invincible.
I don’t want to be a man. I want to be who I am.
*Not meant to rhyme, but there you go.
If you take anything from this, take this: As much as I used to be terrified to break the rules, to step out of the box that I always thought was my safety, I’m now never happier than when I do.
The rules you’ve been told to follow are arbitrary and no one can tell you how you’re supposed to live your life.
And that was That’s Gay, Volume 35. See you in Volume 36, folks!
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