LGBT+

GirlBoyGirl

Come on, Casey. You can make it. Just five more steps and you're out the door.
Four.
Three.
Two-

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

Crap. I groaned. So much for avoiding drama this morning.

I turned around, allowing my mother a full view of my outfit: Nike tennis shoes, jeans, and an oversized Skyrim-themed t-shirt. Every bit of clothing I wore was from my older brother Dillon, who was the only one who fully supported me from the beginning, and the only person I could count on to give me clothes when I needed them. "Um, school?" I answered my mother.

"Not dressed like that, you're not. You go right back upstairs and change. You look like a boy!"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. "Mom, we talked about this. Sometimes, I am a boy, remember?"

She huffed, impatiently. "Well, you weren't a boy yesterday-"

"Well today I am. It's called being gender fluid, mom. For God's sake I explained it to you just the other night-"

"Don't you dare take the lord's name in vain! And I told you that I wasn't going to put up with this nonsense. I understand if you're going through a confused phase right now, but I'll be darned if I'm going to let you start dressing like-"

"It's NOT a phase mom!" I screamed, stomping my foot in a very immature fashion. I didn't care, though. I was done trying to be mature with this woman. "Why can't you just understand that this is who I am-"

"Casey Whinthrop, you do not speak to me that way! I am your mother!"

"Well then why can't you just accept who I am instead of trying to change me?!"

"This isn't you! You're my daughter. A girl. And you're going to dress like one. Now you march your butt straight up those stairs right now, and maybe I won't tell your father about this little incident."

I flinched. I couldn't help it. As annoying as my mother was about this whole thing, my father was way worse. All she did was pray with her bible study group for god to help me through this "confusion". My dad, on the other hand, had threatened me with the belt if he ever heard of this "gender fluid bullshit" again.

I wanted to yell at my mother again. I wanted to tell her that she and dad could both go fuck themselves, then leave the house and never come back. But where would I go? I had no friends, and Dillon lived on a college campus two hours away.

So instead, I marched my butt straight up those stairs, feeling completely defeated.

When I got to my room, I stripped out of my comfortable boys' clothes and pulled one of my own outfits out of the closet. It was a pink skirt and a matching, tight button-up shirt. Ugh.

Despite my confident words from five minutes ago, I couldn't help feeling unsure of myself and, not for the first time, questioning my own identity as I stared at the girly outfit. How could something that felt so right yesterday feel so wrong today? Why can't I just "pick" a gender, like the people at school keep telling me? Why was I such a freak?

"Hurry up honey, you don't want to be late!" my mother called to me, sweetly, as if the shouting match we just had in the kitchen had never happened.

Sighing, I put on the stupid pink outfit with some white flats and ran downstairs to grab my backpack.

My mom smiled as she looked me over, obviously satisfied, until she got to my face and the choppy haircut I had given myself last week. She opened her mouth, no doubt to tell me to put some makeup on, but then just shook her head and kissed my cheek. "Have a good day, sweetie."

I just walked out the door, without so much as looking at her in response.

"I won't," I muttered to myself, long after I had left the house.