Brianna Wu
One of my earliest memories was being confused about being a boy. I’d ask my mom when I would grow out of it, like in fairy tales, which horrified her. You’re taught at an extremely young age to feel shame about what you want to be, which is a girl. When I started socializing with other children, I’d get mocked for acting in ways that felt natural or playing with dolls. I remember playing clapping games with the girls and having a teacher physically separate me. After that, you just isolate yourself. I had no friends. You eventually learn to adapt your impulses to pretend to be someone else. I would speak in a monotone to hide feminine vocal intonations. I’d hold my hands behind my back because my hand gestures were feminine. Puberty was super horrifying. Because you’re attracted to the boys but the idea of them wanting you for parts you’re ashamed of is stomach churning. And you’re so incredibly lonely. I’d watch shows of girls having adventures secretly and have no one to talk to about it. You’d notice how girls in your class would experiment with makeup or hair, but not be able to say anything because they’ll know. I wouldn’t wish any of this on my worst enemy. Eventually it hits a point where you either transition or die.
