I despise my masculinity. The facial hair, the voice, the wide shoulders, red bumps on my thighs from testosterone, mannish hands, and goddamn hair.
I despise the fact that I’ve always gravitated to women’s clothes and I was made to feel dirty for it. As if I was some sort of perverted child. Do you know what that does to a kid? Making a five year old feel like a perv for something they have no control over? Its devastating.
Now that I’m comfortable being gender nonconforming openly I’m in prison where my only avenue of gender confirmation outwardly is my attitude and the occasional painted toes.
Most guys in here call me by some feminine version of Jeff: Jeffica, Jefferika, Bitch. All of which, even when said bitterly, affirm a little something inside me.
But what about these pesky parts? To be honest, I’m not the biggest fan of them either. When I see my perfect body it doesn’t entail either parts. Just flat…and curvy and pretty. I’d like that…
Instead, I have to shave twice a day. Sound like a man, be forced to look like one, usually forced into acting like one too.
Stupid gender chooser is broken…