Rubber Band

Who knew a rubber band on your wrist could solve all the world's problems? Do you feel the urge to smoke? Snap that rubber band. Do you want to kiss another guy? Snap that rubber band. Do you want to wear a dress and makeup, but weren't born with the right body parts? Snap that rubber band.

At age fifteen I admitted what I had known since I was seven. I wanted to be female despite my male body. This and the denial of it had led to a self-hatred and depression. The more I researched online, I found out I wasn't alone. My condition was gender dysphoria and affected many people.

A school science project changed my life. The teacher assigned a girl named Alexis as my partner. My parents allowed me to go over to her house to work on the project. As we worked, I got to know Alexis, and she told me there was something she was scared to talk about. I will never forget when she said, "I feel like a boy inside."

Happiness and terror raced through me at the same time. I had admitted my feelings to myself, now it was time to admit them to someone else. I said to her, "I do too."

"You're supposed to feel like a boy inside!"

"No, I mean I feel like a girl. I feel the opposite of my body too."

This was one of the longest, most meaningful conversations I have ever had. We became confidants and warriors fighting the same fight. We devised a plan to buy clothes and accessories for each other at the mall. After trying on clothes in our bedrooms, we decided that it was time for us to go out in public.

The feeling of walking out into the world with my makeup done and beautiful sundress empowered me. Every step I took in my comfortable new clothes felt like a stomping out of fear. Alexis and I hung out at the mall and got odd looks, but nothing as bad as I had built up in my head.

We walked home from the mall, feeling like we had found our place in the world. Alexis and I approached my house, and I said goodbye. I rushed to the door so I could shower before my parents got home from work. After entering, I found my mom laying on the couch in the living room. A fever forced her home early. She looked at me in horror. I tried to overcome the anxiety I had been living with for eight years and embrace the joy I had felt for a few hours that day. I found the strength to be honest with my mom. She made me regret that decision and did not treat me like a son or daughter, but like a freak.

Now here I am, forced into conversion therapy, hoping I won't be snapping a rubber band until my eighteenth birthday.