there are times i wish i was a boy.

don’t get me wrong, i’m a boi. i’m not butch- that has never really encompassed me. i tried, and found the unofficial ‘rules’ of being butch were like a too-tight turtleneck. a WOOL one. itchy, suffocating. i like eyeliner. i like ambiguity.

i’m not androgynous, either.

this is where titles for gender expression are limiting.

look at me (only have a face shot)

i don’t look like a man (though, on occasion, i’ve been called sir at other jobs by the hetero population.) i don’t even really look butch. i just look like.. me? i prefer the term genderfuck. others use genderqueer. i just kind of wear what’s comfortable and looks semi-decent, on a pretty restrictive budget. (okay, to be honest, it’s also priorities, because i will say i have some very expensive earrings, like that pair.)

however, sex and gender are different.

sometimes, i want to be a boy. i don’t want to get rid of the vag, it serves me just fine, even when it’s annoying. and, even if i could have a dick (and i don’t mean what medical science can give me or others at this point in history, which is better than nothing, but not satisfactory,) i don’t think i want one. i could buy one, if it really came down to it. but i do want to grow beards, have muscles, a masculine figure, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. i don’t hate my tits, but they don’t do all that much for me but get other women’s (and men’s) attention.

i hesitate to call myself trans. but, over the years, it’s been slowly getting closer and closer to that point where i feel a kind of internal pressure. i feel an incompleteness in my life, and sometimes i wonder if my sex has anything to do with it. the fact that i do have a level of body dysmorphia. the fact that i do long, at times, to be a boy. and i’ve had that longing since elementary school.

i should count myself lucky- i live in a time AND place where i can be genderfuck and not get totally persecuted. it’s not sunny and great, but i am generally accepted by family, friends, and local culture for my short short hair, my style, my presentation. two, three decades ago and i would be butch, androgynous, or transsexual/transgendered. i would have to pick, not be as fluid as i am.

there are days i wake up and i know i am a woman and i think this is an okay thing, it’s good, i can live with it and make it work and enjoy it.

there are days i wake up and i feel my balls ache, metaphorically, and i’m nothing but some troublesome 14 year old punk who wants to get out and explode.

so. what does that make me?

ha.