gender

I don’t remember when I started holding in my stomach. [...] It’s hard to trace a habit so ingrained that I don’t know it exists. Until I’m lying on a table and her hand rests at my solar plexus and she tells me to let go. I can’t. I don’t know how, or not yet.

When you have a best friend, you expect to be able to tell them anything and for them to love you unconditionally, without judgment. At least, that’s what I felt about my best friend in sixth grade. She was like an older sister to me; of course she would stick with me.

When you have a best friend, you expect to be able to tell them anything and for them to love you unconditionally, without judgment. At least, that’s what I felt about my best friend in sixth grade. She was like an older sister to me; of course she would stick with me.

Although I hesitate to admit it, I have a hard time believing that men can be victims of domestic violence, and I know that my stepfather Joe is at the root of my problem.

For the first time in my life, I realized how much time I’ve spent tip-toeing around what I have inherently felt was a “man's world”: from the gym to simply being able to walk down the street knowing my body would be judged.

Even a Google search will conflate “queer women” with “lesbian.” So the first and most obvious thing I wish people understood about being a queer woman, is that we exist.

People sometimes blame my dad for me being transgender. In their view, I guess, my father being a good dad is the reason I don't feel comfortable in my own skin and battle gender dysphoria. To my mind, this makes no sense. I will say, though, looking back — I did learn a lot about masculinity from my dad.