A few weeks ago a woman found me on facebook, like folks do. We went to elementary school together and were friends. Not close friends, but friends. The last time I saw her I was probably ten. She looks great, is now married and has 3 kids. We have emailed back and forth a few times and the last email she sent me made my eyes pop out of my head. The line that did it was this:
“…I can’t think about you without remembering us putting on your brothers underoos and stuffing the crotches lol..”
This email has totally rocked me and here’s why: I have been packing since I could pee by myself! AND clearly I wasn’t hiding it and I just don’t have any recollection of this. I do remember wearing my brother’s underoos now and then when I was little and refusing to wear my superwoman ones until finally my mom gave in and let me get the boy kind (Batman and Luke Skywalker.) But before this email, my own narrative for being a young little genderqueer, which at the time was dubbed “androgynous” and “tomboy” by others, was that I hid that part of me, at least a little bit… or at least I thought I did.
I certainly don’t remember being so intentional or obvious about it, that is for sure. I use to wear my brother’s clothes now and then but he use to wear makeup and my mom’s dresses. And when my brother and I played make-believe I was always a boy. I remember that I use to wish that I was a boy but I think that was mostly because I started having feelings for girls and didn’t have the language for things like ‘lesbian.’ (And when I did discover that language it was NOT a good thing to be.) Also, I was taught that female equaled feminine with no variations: Ken = boy, Barbie = girl and that certainly didn’t fit who I was at all. And I’m not sure if I was just protecting my mom or if I truly didn’t mind, but up until around the 4th grade I let my mom dress me up, never in dresses, but she would put pink ribbons to match my pink LL Bean turtle neck in my hair that I would then “misplace” every single day at recess only to do this over again the next day without resistance.
My narrative, before this email from my old friend, was that when I started to understand the social lines between boy and girl I hid my ‘boy-ness’ intentionally. I think a lot of it was in attempt to protect my mom, she really, really wanted a ‘girl.’ But also because I wasn’t a boy, I was a girl. I embraced “tomboy” and “it’s just a phase.” I believed that. I believed that one day I would magically want to wear make up and play with dolls and have a husband but that I just didn’t right then.
My narrative, before this email, was that I kept what I considered the ‘boy-like’ pieces of me mostly hidden until this one very particular defining moment in my life. I’ve told this moment to folks all of my life, any time it comes up. This was what I had been telling myself. Before getting this email from my old friend my gender-bending revolutionary moment was this:
For all of my life, up until this particular moment, I hid my boy-ness and put up with and gave into the fact that I was a girl. A tomboy, but a girl. I did this until the week before the 6th grade started when, for a reason I still can’t explain, I had this sudden and uncontrollable outburst. My brother and mom and I were school clothes shopping and I remember watching my brother go off into ‘his’ section, where all of the cool clothes were, while I was stuck in ‘my’ section attempting to find sexless, genderless t-shirts and jeans and shoes (oh unisex Converse Hightops, how you saved me from so much gendered-footwear-angst.) I remember my mom’s face as I refused to shop unless she would let me go to the boys section. I saw something in her break, which still makes me break to think about. She looked so worried for me and so sad. I know it really hurt her to agree to this, I saw it, but she did anyway. For whatever reason, all of a sudden, right then, shopping in the boy’s section felt desperate and both my mom and I could feel it.
I have always thought of that moment as a coming out of sorts. But now, I’m not so sure.
So, this email from an old friend has me shifting and questioning my own story of how I feel I came into being authentic and comfortable and right in this gender-place that makes me feel like me. It is making me wonder if I thought I was hiding it when really the boy in me was just totally obvious to everyone and always there the whole go? Or maybe I just didn’t hide it like I thought I did? Maybe I didn’t even know to hide it then because it was just who I was and I thought it was normal until I was told differently?
I remember my 2nd grade teacher telling me I couldn’t sit with my chair backwards because, “that is not how a lady sits” and thinking, ‘well, now I know.’ I didn’t like that rule, but now I knew. I remember running around outside in a pair of my brother’s shorts and no shirt and my dad watering the lawn and asking, “jesse! Are you wearing your brother’s shorts?” and feeling really embarrassed but not sure why. I remember my mom’s friend telling me that I couldn’t marry Valley because she was a girl, and I didn’t like that either, but now I knew, so I stopped telling folks I wanted to marry her. I always hated dresses but I just knew that sometimes I would have to wear them, until I became an adult and realized I didn’t. Ever.
My mom has very seriously asked me, as an adult, more than a few times, if I wished I was a boy, to which I very honestly answer, “No, not at all.” And I use to think the question was a bit out of left field or maybe just because I get mistaken for a guy sometimes? But I guess if, ever since I was 5 years old (or maybe younger, I don’t know anymore), I’ve been prancing around in boys clothes with a fruit-of-the-loom-sock-bulge in my pants (which, as an adult I never ever do in front of family) well, I can just see a bit clearer where her question is coming from.
I have been sitting on this for a few weeks now and wish I felt more of a solid reason for why I am so fascinated by hearing this from my old friend, but I’m still not sure exactly. I do know I am going to ask other friends of mine, that I have known since our underoos days, what they remember.
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February 11, 2010 at 6:22 am
yondergen
That’s kind of awesome. I’m amazed at how some people are able to stand up for themselves and be so sure at such a young age. I really get the “now I know” thing, though. I remember thinking that, and I remember my own little outbursts, like whenever my dad insisted that girls were not as strong as boys. But I never put my foot down on the “bigger” stuff; I always figured I was wrong.
February 11, 2010 at 6:44 am
Blazer
Wow, the similarities to my own story are amazing. Except my mom didn’t give in during the melt down while shopping for school clothes. I understand your fascination with this new information. I am nearly 50 years old and still find myself trying to pinpoint when exactly I became unlike all the other girls. I didn’t wear my brothers underwear but remember breaking out my dad’s shaving cream and razor and luckily not permanently scarring my face at a young age.
My acceptance of my masculinity took longer and came in stages over many years. It’s damn tough when you have no role models or when the ones you find are being ridiculed by others around you. Another example of how important your work with GSA really is.
Gee thanks Jesse,I think I’m going to be obsessed with this topic for a while now. Great post, I do love it when you make me think.
February 11, 2010 at 7:36 am
JMc
Yah for girls being girls and everything that encompasses, from packing to primping.
Hey…have a great, GREAT day. Seriously.
February 11, 2010 at 7:48 am
greg
Ok, so this is now my favorite-of-all-time Jesse James post (the post about meeting me coming in a very close 2nd :). What you are doing is so important – you’re taking a trip back to the beginning so that you can fit the puzzle pieces together. That can be very enlightening but taking that journey also means that you put yourself back in a time of much confusion and fear. What’s most amazing is that you are sharing it with us; taking us along on this trip. Thank you for that.
ps – Converse Hightops are still so hot.
February 11, 2010 at 10:50 am
jessejames
I want a pair of converse hightops AND batman underoos!
February 11, 2010 at 11:37 am
Melissa
At 10 years old, I got a pair of my brothers Levi’s as a hand-me-down. I was soooooooooo happy. I wore them with my Montgomery Ward Camping Boots every day that I could (not to school). After that I asked my mom to give me all of my brother’s hand-me-downs (with the condition that I would never wear them to school). My mom knew I was gay before I did and this was her way of helping me to feel comfortable. She still made me wear dresses and I can still remember the sad look on her face when we took pictures at Easter and Christmas when I was in a dress. She knew it wasn’t the right fit either… I love my mom and she has ALWAYS been supportive of me. I am 52 years young and she always did things that made my life a little easier and still does every day.
February 11, 2010 at 12:01 pm
jessejames
Wow, what a fabulous mom you have! My mom also knew I was gay way before I did. When I came out to her she said, “I know.” And so I asked, “Why in the WORLD didn’t you tell me!?” To which she said, “There are just some things you have to let your kids discover on their own.” Which was very sweet, I thought.
February 11, 2010 at 11:43 am
alphafemme
Something similar has happened to me, where I thought I’d hid it pretty well (even from myself) and yet it was so obvious to others. I think memory is pretty liquid. It changes shape according to the vessel that your mind and body is at the time you have it (not necessarily the time you *make* it). So that what is one thing when you’re 5 becomes something else when you remember it as a 15-year-old, and if you never challenge your 15-year-old memory of the 5-year-old’s self, then that might be the memory that sticks around until you shift again (perhaps provoked by a childhood friend).
I kind of feel like what I just wrote is totally incoherent. But if it makes sense at all to you, that’s how I’ve been thinking about my own memories, my own blacking-out of many things from my childhood and re-memorying of others.
February 11, 2010 at 11:59 am
jessejames
That totally makes sense. I think that is really spot on and has me thinking. You’re right. The way we tell any story, to ourselves or others, the latest version, with the last correction/ addendum/ edit/ whatever will BE the story whether or not it is accurate. Interesting. Thanks.
February 11, 2010 at 3:03 pm
Kim
Alphafemme’s explanation fits the science. A lot of people think memories are like photos in a filing cabinet which we access, but many scientists believe they are actually a sequence of neural pulses that has to be retraced each time we have the memory. So essentially, we remake the past experience every time we go to remember it. (In fact, if you think about the word ‘re-member’, as opposed to ‘dis-member’ – it sounds like you’re putting it together again, doesn’t it?) It is fairly easy for the sequence to get out of whack. I’ve never read any research about what factors would make it get out of whack in one or another, but what alphafemme has proposed above would make a heap of sense – as we’re re-making the memory, it gets altered by the filter we’re using at the time – that of a confused 10yo, a closeted 15yo, or a fully socialized, out, genderqueer 25 yo. Interesting stuff. This is my favourite post of yours of all time. I love your honesty, Jesse. Thanks for sharing this with us.
February 11, 2010 at 5:10 pm
alphafemme
well, waddaya know? and I know nothing about neuroscience! that explanation makes so much sense, though, and fits in *exactly* with what my intuition has been on the matter (clearly). thanks for the science!
February 11, 2010 at 5:19 pm
Kim
You’re welcome, alphafemme! It’s always good to be able to trot out the Science degree in social situations – goddess knows it’s never given me any help on the job front!
February 11, 2010 at 3:49 pm
Rachel
First off, I love this blog. It is light hearted, shows a love for life and speaks the truth.
Secondly, Happy Birthday!!!
Thirdly, I love this post. It made me think of a conversation I had with my aunt about myself this Christmas. She said something along the lines of, don’t you know your Mom thinks/knows your gay. Wow what a shock that was! I don’t try and hide it, I don’t even know what I am yet or what I will be. But it’s just funny how people see things that you don’t think they do or that you don’t/can’t see yourself. Great job reflecting on the past. It takes courage!
February 12, 2010 at 7:20 pm
queertabby
I didn’t get a Ken doll until I was about 7, and by that time all the barbies I had were dating Snow White (because she had short hair so she got to be the boy). After a few days of having a Ken doll, he was thrown out. I loved when my barbies kissed Snow White because she had boobs that could be cupped, and Ken didn’t have any of those. His hands were too big to touch Barbie’s, but her hands and Snow White’s hands were the perfect size to not leave any gaps. I don’t remember my barbies actually having sex, but I had a fascination for breasts at a young age, and it has continued through to the present.
I did not think that this applied to real life, and did not have any inkling that I was attracted to women until I was in high school. But when I was 6, it sure made sense for Snow White and Barbie to love each other. They were made for each other.
February 13, 2010 at 6:04 pm
Kyle
I love hearing stories from other butches and genderqueers about their childhoods. I didn’t stuff my brother’s briefs, but I remember wearing them.. they were very tight, he was a bit smaller.
I also remember the battles between my mom and I over dresses, pants, lady-like behavior. arggggg.. I remember wishing I would turn into a boy, wanting to do boy stuff and not, for anything, wanting to do girl stuff.
My mom and I didn’t get along well for a while but very recently it’s become apparent that she’s come around. She bought me a tie last year for my birthday.
I’m also fascinated by memory and the ways our personal narratives can change as we come across new memories. That email from your old friend was quite a gift, look at all the memories and information it opened up for you.
February 18, 2010 at 9:17 am
leo
the whole post rocks but the part i want to comment on is the teacher telling you that’s not how ladies sit, and your reaction of “oh, now i know.” that’s exactly how i felt too in a lot of those situations. like, ok, so i didn’t get the memo, but i can piece together these clues and figure these girl things out, i guess, since apparently i have to. such a funny thing and a funny, particular feeling.
February 25, 2010 at 3:58 pm
ABeautifulDisaster
I can totally relate to this as a femme. I always knew I was attracted to girls but was told it was sinful and an abomination so I tried to hide it. I went to great lengths including being with men to hide this. And yet, when I came out to my parents it wasn’t a surprise to them. Apparently I didn’t hide it well.
I love you blog Jesse. You inspire me and I admire the person that you are.
March 14, 2010 at 4:52 pm
Amber
I identify as a femme, but I also packed as a child, and rubbed up against other girls with my bulge. Go figure, haha.
But I think it’s lying to yourself and others to walk around with this facade that being a lesbian woman is ‘easy.’ I believe everything smooths itself over with time, but I don’t believe the feeling that I am often alone and misunderstood simply on my diversion from what society expects of me as a woman will ever go away. It’s a weight that’s sometimes a burden, and other times just something that comes along with me that I’m happy to carry.