At two I was typical:
Princess dresses, pink sparkly bangles, and Barbies.
But growing up, observing the world and seeing how frilly and frail girls were supposed to be …
In third grade I told everyone I wanted to be a boy.
Girly-girls were alien – silly, weak, and too pretty for their own good.
I wouldn’t step into the girls’ section at Target.
I think my mom was disappointed.

In middle school I felt like an outsider because I couldn’t stomach the endless gossiping:
Crushes and makeup and cell phones on infinite repeat …
Sports and school made so much more sense
Baggy clothes, running shoes, and short hair were so much more comfortable
Gym class was so much more fun when I showed them that I was fast
And got picked early for teams.
Glancing around the locker room,
I wondered if I was a lesbian before I really knew what that meant
Because I didn’t look or feel feminine like all these other girls.
To some extent I accepted that I would never be a true girl.

And then my eyes opened further.
By high school I had met and talked to many women in my life whom I could now recognize
As not only independent, strong, and intelligent
– athletes, lawyers, pilots, scientists, doctors, artists, teachers –
But also as lovely and womanly wives and mothers.

They didn’t have to act weak to be admired.

By tenth grade I wore girls’ clothes – jeans, shorts, shoes, and T-shirts made for females
And even some jewelry and light mascara when I felt like it.
Nothing to be ashamed of.
It wasn’t about trying to impress anyone or prove that I was girly
It was just that I had finally discovered that I could be any kind of girl
That I wanted to be.