Out of Place

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     I used to think it was normal for guys to want to play with princess dolls and dress up in a tutu in their adolescent years. But apparently society has deemed it too feminine to do so and I learned that the hard way.

    I used to bring my Barbie doll with me everywhere I went; I even brought it to the first day of kindergarten. I walked into the classroom, a smile plastered on my face, and went to sit at the carpet in the front of the classroom. I waved goodbye to my parents as they left the room, right as they were out of sight, all hell broke loose. A guy named Scotty walked up to me and asked why I have a Barbie doll with me.

    "Because it's my favorite doll and I bring it with me everywhere."

   He then proceeded to make fun of me by calling me a girl and a weirdo. When he turned around to talk to some other kid, I got up and ran to the other end of the classroom. I sit in a corner of the verge of tears when a girl with long black hair walked up to me.

    "Can I have that doll you're holding?" She asked.

    "No, it's mine." I responded.

   "But you're a boy! Boys don't play with dolls." And she scoffed away.

   The whole rest of that day consisted of people questioning why I have a doll and then proceeding to make fun of me. I managed to hold my tears in the whole day, but the second I stepped off the bus, I burst into tears. I ran all the way home and jumped into my mom's arms.

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   As elementary school proceeded, I became more masculine. I got rid of all my dolls by hiding them under my bed, I gave my neighbor, Teresa, all my tutus and dress up stuff, and I bought more graphic tees and wore only boy's clothes. I was miserable, but I didn't like being bullied so I just had to suck it up and deal with it.

    Occasionally, my parents would indirectly ask if I wanted a certain girly thing, but I would always just ignore them. I didn't know at the time what was wrong with me, but I was afraid if I told anyone then I would be sent to an insane asylum and be tested on. I was eight so I always thought pretty crazy things would happen when they wouldn't.

    I kept my girly side hidden away in the back of my brain, until the first day of fifth grade when I couldn't take it any longer. I grabbed a skirt from my mom's closet and a ribbon from her sewing box. I tied the ribbon into a bow around my wrist and put the skirt on over my shorts. A smile slowly grew across my face, for once in a really long time, I felt like my true self.

    My parents normally leave for work at 7:30 so by this time, they were long gone. I went into the kitchen, grabbed my backpack, and walked to school. I entered my new classroom and placed my backpack in my cubby. Everyone already in their seats were staring at me and giving me weird looks, suddenly my confidence dropped and I scurried to the desk with my name on it and sat down.

    Someone threw a paper ball at my desk, I picked it up and it said the word "faggot" in big bold letters. I crumpled it back into a ball and threw it back into the general direction it came from. Slowly it got worse, everyone began throwing paper balls at me and started laughing. I looked around for anyone to stick up for me, but the only kids not participating in the paper ball throwing were sitting and staring at me. I burst into tears and ran out of the room.

    As I was running down the hallway, the bell for the start of school rang, but I didn't care, I kept running until I reached the end of school property. Trying to catch my breath, I ripped off my skirt and threw it in the flower bushes. I sat down in front of the flowers and began playing with them, it seemed to calm me down so I focused on the flowers. I didn't even notice that the principal has walked up to me until she tapped on my shoulder.