Remember the times your dad poked fun at you by imitating that silly cartoon and asking if you wanted to be a boy. Remember the times you felt more connected to your boy stuffed animals and had more fun voicing toys that were boys. Remember the times you only wrote stories from the perspective of a boy. Remember the times you created profiles on avatar sites and always made yourself into a boy. Remember the times your mom told you not to pull your hair back because it made you look like a boy. Remember the time you cried yourself to sleep because your mom picked out a frilly, pink outfit complete with glittery shoes and butterfly hair clips for you to wear at school so everyone would know you were her perfect little girl. Remember the times you stripped the girl clothes off your dolls and chopped off their locks to make them look like boys. Remember the time you cut your hair off and your mom called and laughed and said “I thought you were a boy.” Remember the times you looked back with resentment on the times when your dad poked fun at you and asked if you wanted to be a boy. Remember the times you thought that if you were a boy, you’d be gay because as a girl, you’re always supposed to only like boys. Remember the times you changed the pronouns in songs to make sure you were always singing about boys. Remember the times you made yourself into a boy so you could flirt with girls. Remember the times you failed at being a boy because you were too much of a girl. Remember the times you loved being a girl. Remember the times you wrote stories from the perspective of a girl. Remember the times you’d fall back from mom at the store, slipping your hands under the female mannequins’ shirts while mom skipped off to the dresses with big bows and lace trims. Remember the times you thought your hands were too big and manish for your slight, feminine wrists, but they were the perfect size to cup the hard plastic humps beneath the mannequins’ tops. Remember the times you looked in the mirror and loved your body as a girl. Remember the times you stared a little too long at your friends’ breasts and told yourself it was just because you wished your boobs looked like theirs. Remember the time you sang a song with “you” pronouns to your friend and no matter how you sang it, the song would always be about her. Remember the times you devoured stories about girls loving girls. Remember the times when you wrote stories and no matter the perspective the love interest was always a girl, and maybe you just liked dreaming about you loving girls.
