The Box

Too often, society tries to get kids to fit inside this little gender box. Too often, a kid just can't fit inside that box.

“Express yourself” you tell me. But that’s not what you really mean. You really mean to say, “Express yourself while staying in this little box that society has created”. You don’t really mean it when you tell me I can be who I want. You really mean to tell me that I can only be who I want if you approve of it.

I used to try so hard to fit inside that little box. To wear the little bows in my hair. To twirl in my pink tutus. I felt ashamed of myself when I picked up a t-shirt from the boy’s section of Gap Kids. You laughed and told me it was for boys. I felt embarrassed as I put the shirt back, other shoppers looking on.

I wore a red shirt to preschool. All the kids told me I was no longer a boy because I wasn’t wearing pink. I cried on the way home.

In third grade, I kept a diary. On one page, I wrote, “I feel like I live a double life. At school, I can be myself, I can act like one of the boys. At home, I have to wear pink and cross my legs and not get my clothes dirty.” I cried the entire year. You told me to “act more like a lady”.

I tried. I tried so hard to act like a lady. I wore dresses and jewelry. I got my ears pierced and put a sparkly case on my cellphone. But I wasn’t happy.

I got so depressed that all I wore was black. I stopped brushing my hair, I stopped wearing jewelry.  I smashed the sparkly case on my cellphone.

But once I stopped trying to fit inside that box, I started to be happy again. I was beginning to become comfortable with who I was, for the first time in my life. You didn’t approve. You begged me to take off my ratty Avengers shirt in exchange for a pink shirt with ruffles. But I stood up to you. I said no.

I wanted to cut my hair short. When I asked, you said, “No, I like it long.” It was that moment that I realized. My entire life, you had only done for me what was in your best interest. You only thought about what you wanted. You never once asked me how I felt, what I wanted to wear, how I wanted my hair to look. It was all about you and how I would I would make you look.

I took scissors and chopped off my own hair. Seven inches of hair. Gone. You screamed at me. I just smiled. Because I had won. I did something for myself. To make me happy.

In this world, everyone tries to put you in a box. You can choose to fit into that box, or you can choose to be happy. Some people can choose both, but I was never one of them, and I am okay with that. I know that you will never be okay with that. And I no longer care.

Author's Note

Just something I wrote about how society sees gender. Take from it what you will.