“Why can't I act like a girl? I used to ask myself that question all the time. When the swimming teacher said, "Boys in this line; girls in the other," why did I want so badly to stand with those rowdy, pushy boys, even though my nonexistent six-year-old boobettes were already hidden behind shiny pink fabric, making it clear which line I was supposed to stand in? I wondered, even then, why I couldn't be a boy if I wanted to. I wasn't unhappy exactly; I was just puzzled. Why did everybody think I was a girl? And after that: Why was it such a big freaking deal what I looked like or acted like? I looked like myself. I acted like myself.”
Book:Parrotfish
