Properly Suppressing Your Gender Dysphoria
Narrate a play when you are seven. Protest your wardrobe convincingly. Don’t pretend the robe is a dress. Squirm when they let you wear lipstick and blush. Do not say they “let you.” Forget this memory.
Hate your long eyelashes. Avoid androgynous haircuts. Blush when the lunch lady thinks you are a girl. Do not like this, but remember this — it is embarrassing.
Don’t watch The Jetsons. Don’t dream that you have a machine that showers and dresses you in the morning. Don’t dream that it always messes up and dresses you like a girl. Consider this “messing up.” Do not have this dream again.
Don’t go to water parks. Don’t hate your swimsuit. Don’t like hers. Don’t dream of futuristic water slides that can change your gender. Don’t always find ways to accidentally go down the girl’s slide. Consider this “accidental.” Stop having this dream. Stop having this dream. Stop having this dream.
Forget that time in third grade when Kyle got to dress up as a cheerleader for Halloween. Don’t say that he “got to.” Become too old for Halloween when you are nine. Do not tell anyone why.
Don’t envy that girl’s outfit, her hair, or her body. Do not envy her genitals. This is not envy; this is attraction.
Don’t watch Mulan.
Don’t tell your sister that you wish you were a girl. Laugh with her when she points out your bulbous Adam’s apple and tell her that you are kidding. Don’t hate your Adam’s apple. Do not push it to the back of your throat and wish that it would stay.
Don’t ask your mom what she would’ve named you if you were a girl. Elizabeth.
Don’t go to the Woodstock Fleece Festival. Don’t look at all the cute knit hats. Don’t cry in the car in front of your aunt. Do not cry over knit hats when you are twenty-three.
Don’t go to The Stumble Inn with Karen. Don’t sit on the patio, and don’t order a drink. Don’t let her tell you that you have feminine features — you don’t. Don’t let it make you happy. Do not be happy.
Don’t pretend to be a girl online. Consider this “pretend.”
Pretend to be a boy in real life. Consider this “real.”
Wait until you are older — it will go away.
Pretend that it does.
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3. Don’t get mad, get everything.
But I am here to talk about realities, realities that are based on experiences, guy talks (who cares about that?) and late night chats with good female friends of mine.
Many people know of Jack Kerouac’s fiction, but few know of his penchant for recording his dreams.
Why do we care so much about what people think? I remember in high school I made sure to get a t-shirt that had a visible moose logo on the front so people would know it’s from Abercrombie.