Eighth Grade
This all takes place in NW Georgia, USA during the year 2005-2006
I went to a regular, public middle school. I was a regular teenager. Acne ridden, confused, emotionally unstable, etc. But while other teenagers were experiencing their first kisses, and some were experiencing so much more, I was just trying to grasp who I was. In fourth grade, I had come out as gay to my mom. I had no other word for anything that wasn’t completely cis and hetero-normative. In the fashion of my mom as I remember her to have been at the time. She rolled over, told me it was probably just a phase, and promptly tried to get back to sleep.
Now I was in eighth grade, my mom and my sister had moved away and my dad and I were at ends. I went to school everyday and I tried to understand who I was and what I was. Was I a crossdresser, was I bisexual? I didn’t know, I was trying to grasp for some form of self - identity, and the ways I did it gave plenty of ammunition to the bullies in my school.
I ‘went out’ with this guy that year, it was the most stereotypical of trivial middle school relationships. He was constantly ‘cheating’ on me and dumping me. And still, because we went out at all, (let me say that I don’t regret it, especially not for the reasons I’m about to talk about) people became rude and crude.
I imagine the baby blue eyeliner running down my cheeks and the purple lip gloss on my lips didn’t help.
But I couldn’t walk from class to class without hearing faggot yelled half a million times. And back before I’d even had my first kiss, people were asking me if I was the ‘pitcher’ or the ‘catcher’.
And they’d walk away from me with binders and books covering their asses, like because I wasn’t heterosexual I was automatically some feral creature that wanted to and would fuck anything and everything.
Then, as now, I just want to be loved.
The worst part was the kid who was like my next door neighbor. I have a quarter-mile long drive way, and at the time I had to walk it to get from my bus stop to my house. This kid would get off the bus after me and get on his 4-wheeler to catch me on the way down the drive way.
And he’d tell me we wouldn’t have any problems if I just wouldn’t say anything.
If I wouldn’t act so weird.
If I’d just keep my faggot mouth shut and act like a ‘normal’ fucking person.
And when that didn’t work, he’d bring his cousins out, all bigger then me, except for the one that was younger then me. And, standing in a half circle around me, they’d tried to entice me, a pacifist, into a fight.
Because I was queer and they didn’t like it.
My name is Jessica, I’m now a first year freshman at a local community college. Then I identified as a bisexual crossdresser. Now I identify as a Transgender Lesbian.
(Source: longhairedpoet)