CHLOEUNSURE

When I was young, I hated that I was a girl. Not in the gender-identity way; I am definitely cis female. But more so in regards to gender-power dynamics. I have always been acutely aware of my place in the world, and my wish to not be a girl started at the early age of 4.

The community that surrounded me at this time was certainly atypical, but it was and is reflective of larger society. Every week, 3 times a week, my family and I would dress up for church. I hated going to church as it meant pantyhose, frilly dresses, and slippery shoes. What's more, wearing dresses meant I couldn’t roll around on the church floor with the little boys and their crotch-covering pants. The next time I wished away my girlness was around the age of 7. It was then that I started to process the words being fed to me: “The head of a woman is Man.” All the leadership roles in church were filled by men. It made me uncomfortable that only those of the male sex could give spiritual lectures. As someone sitting in the audience, I felt less than like I would never amount to anything special. It was at this age that I internalized the ambient misogyny and began to hate myself, for being a girl.

After my brother was born, it was even clearer to me that I was a second class citizen. My father spent way more time with him than with my sister or me. My father would also get very upset when we would costume my brother in dresses or let him play with our Barbies. “We wear dresses and play with Barbies… What’s so bad about that?” He has since apologized, and I have forgiven him. But the choice to put son over daughter will forever be a thorn in our relationship, and my acceptance of girlhood.

At 14 I got my period, and I cried. A lot. Getting my period solidified my lot in life as a woman. How dreadful to live with this inconvenience every month for half of my existence. (I still find my period wretched, especially as someone who never wants children. I reject the very purpose of having a period and would prefer to surgically remove my uterus.) It was also around this time that my boobs came in. Although they never truly developed…. To hide my “mosquito bites”, as they were tauntingly called, I would wear extra large T-shirts and walk around mimicking the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (I blame puberty for my bad posture.)

The rest of puberty / high school was tragic and I wouldn’t let myself date until I was 17 (for reasons I haven’t fully explored but probably have something to do with power imbalance and my lack of body acceptance). In college, I was too preoccupied with fitting in that I didn’t spend much time dissecting gender inequities, rather focusing on the financial inequities between my friends and me. The next time I distinctly remember not wanting to be a girl (or rather a woman) was at 25. I guess at some point in college I fell for Neoliberalism and thought if I just worked hard then I would be treated and compensated accordingly. It only takes one job at a douchebag tech startup to ruin any perception of fairness. It was at this job that I finally swallowed the hard pill that I, as a woman, would have it much, much harder in life.

And now here we are 6 years later, and the US government has legally confirmed all of my concerns. I am of the second sex.