and in doing so gave a name to this spirit within me. This spirit of pants and soft t shirts, dirty boots, opening doors and lifting the heavy things, you called boy.
Finding this part of me has been like a science experiment we did when I was in school, rolling marbles under a sheet of cardboard and trying to judge the shape of the object hidden underneath by how they bounced back out. I could not see the shape of who I am underneath the layers of socialized femininity, body shaming and misplaced modesty. I've been trying to find the shape of things for awhile now. Figuring out that queer fit so much better than bisexuality was a pretty big thing for me. It wasn't a "Eureka!" type thing, it was just a gradual breakthrough after gathering many small pieces of the puzzle.
And so goes the evolution of boy. At first it was clothing. Soft cotton briefs under straight leg jeans, wearing a belt, carrying a wallet and leaving my purse at home. Then it was behaviors, holding doors, fetching and carrying, bootblacking. I tried on each of these things for size and kept the ones that fit. The first time I stripped out all the make up and femme armor from my luggage and went to a big event felt like I was going on a top secret mission. As if no one could possibly believe that I really was this boyish creature I'd found underneath all the layers. Then it happened. You called me boy.
Good boy
Look at me, boy
Yes, boy?
You called me boy and it opened something within me. What I have found inside I give back to you. I give you my strength, my vulnerability, my service. I bring to you my hard work, my cleverness, my smile. All of the things I had before with an outside that better fits my inside.
