Girl! I Feel Like a Man!
9 February 2026
How and when, I cannot point to it (there is no yardstick long enough) to cut through timeslack and confusions, to arrive at the momentous occasion in which my mind noticed a deliberate split between the roles
dictated and delicious risk. The church bathroom is one curious stop on our road trip, where a woman dressed me in a suit and said you will like it (and I did) or how in school plays the lack of boys was never a
problem. Perhaps that too is why I considered myself Herculean when given (what seemed to most girls) minor tasks: wear this bra and don’t sneak it off during recess, play army with budding butches and the kids
who would take ROTC too seriously. And in the Christmas pageant, I was typically wiseman #2 or #3 until my handsomeness t’was womanly enough to play Mary but just barely (plenty of competition). As a girl,
if I’d only had a spectrum: a stretched out accordion through which children could swim, waiting for tones that appealed most to them– yes, I want my hair just above my chin. Yes, only denim and Reeboks
touching my skin. How could anyone else determine what is best when there is already a crest upon my chest, a horse between these legs! Not for France–I ride for a future with Jacob’s ladder in hand.