i never saw the tv glow

I never saw the TV glow. I never had a moment of realisation, and sometimes I long for one.

I was a very transgender child. When I was in nursery school, age three or so, I would have a tantrum if someone called me my deadname rather than ‘pingu.’ Even my teachers had to call me pingu, or God forbid. I hated those checkered primary school dresses - I wore a yellow polo shirt and grey trousers every day.

When I was six or so, I remember - and so does a childhood friend - going around the playground, hopping my scotch, telling everyone my name was Lucas. I labelled toys ‘Lucas.’ Around this time, my younger sibling was three or four, and had a green monster shirt that read “I’m the little brother.” I got to wear that shirt one day, as ill-fitted as it was, and I was over the moon. I wanted everyone to see it, to see me.

The next name I adopted, at about seven or eight, was Leo. There’s actually a video of me saying “I am Leo” while dressed as a surfer, my sibling playing the role of a very vicious shark. I’ll see if I can attach it here somewhere.

My point is, none of this is new. I never had a moment of realisation that I was a boy - I just always was, even if secretly, Lucas. My family put it down to me having all boy relatives, being raised around boys is bound to turn you into a tomboy, they figured. I suppose I can see the logic.

Sometimes I really wish there was a moment where a blue lightbulb turned on over my head, as if I’d discovered something. The truth is, I feel like I never had to unearth my boyhood from deep below the surface. Through the baby dolls, littlest pet shop, polly pockets, and Justice, shone - clear as day - boyhood. Queer boyhood.

I feel like I had a queer boyhood, not a girlhood. I really relate to that person on Instagram who draws bugs amidst childhood “girls toys.” Whilst my peers got into One Direction, makeup, hairstyles, I was out in my green shorts with the boys from the street riding scooters and skateboards. They treated me like one of them, and I wonder if, now, they’d hate me for being one of them. I used my broken Skullcandy headphones on the school bus home, in 45 degrees, mid-desert, to listen to the soundtrack of a skating game I had on my iPad mini. I often got in trouble for wearing Vans and skinny jeans and no cross-over tie to my rather strict international private school. I would get home, drop my girl-sona, and play Guitar Hero. I’d ride scooters in the street, in the skatepark, anywhere I could.

Puberty was a nightmare. I was under no illusion - I would develop into a woman. I hated it. For about a year, I dreaded my first period. I sobbed to my mum when it came about how wrong it felt. I remember standing in the mirror in my bedroom, putting 2 sports bras on - one forwards, one backwards - to make a makeshift binder. I remember putting up a real fight about shaving my legs to go to the waterpark.

I, eventually, came out, in a deeply hostile country. I remember my mum’s words vividly - “this is fine with me, but do you know where you live?”, my dad’s words far less kind. I was instructed, not suggested, to keep quiet outside of the house. I, of course, being naive, didn’t listen. I wasn’t letting anyone shut me up. I actually had an okay time at school amongst peers; teachers weren’t to find out (unless they were my TA-mum’s chill friends). Me and my friends started referring to each other as members of My Chemical Romance to cover for me wanting a boy name - I was Gerard, obviously. Come on.

Upon moving back to the UK, I let myself go even more. Year eight, I was new to my school, and openly trans from day one. It didn’t go so great. It never got better. It wasn’t even kids that were the issue, mostly, but teachers. Being the only transgender kid in your school isn’t for the weak.

Going back to my queer boyhood, though; even the queerphobia I faced was boy queerphobia. A boy I sat next to in science lessons used to mutter “faggot” under his breath at me. I was made fun of for not being good at football, told I kick like a girl. Called a faggot for playing music, having a part in the school play, my music taste. I was frequently called my best friend at the time’s “little gay boyfriend.”

So, I never saw the TV glow. I never had my transgender moment. I never grew from a girl into a boy. All along the way, I was assigned male by the world. Sometimes I wish I had a “eureka” moment, a blue-white-pink lightbulb over my head. But, I’m grateful that the world has always - in some way - let, or forced me to, exist as myself. A faggot. Happy pride month, faggots.