“Are you a boy?” asked a 5-year-old.
“No, I’m a girl,” I replied.
“But you have short hair?”
“True, but girls can have short hair, and boys can have long hair too.”
“Oh, okay. Cool!”
The sad part is I have had that conversation multiple times while various aged children. Or I get the occasional “sir” or “gentleman” when I am in a store. The adults that have called me sir or gentleman have always apologized and I tell them it’s not a big deal. To me, it really isn’t. Now I know I can spout off all this psychobabble about how society views gender and how I should be proud to be a female woman that is able to express them self any way they want, and don’t get me wrong I appreciate that. But being called “sir” doesn’t hurt me.
How people perceive my gender does not bother me anymore. I can say that now after a lot of soul-searching, but now I don’t care. I like how I look. I feel empowered by my appearance, and my demeanor does not mean I want to be a male either. I just want to be me. I am the best person I can be when I am able to be my authentic self.