#GirlsShitToo

"Softer than I thought."

The next day I had lunch with Dylan and his friend Eric. I didn't know why I'd never connected with him. One of the two transgender boys at my school, he was formerly Erika, but he started dressing like he wanted and requesting that people call him Eric and use male pronouns for him when he was in sixth grade, and apparently his parents had always been super supportive.

Dylan and Eric became friends after Dylan and I became friends, and they seemed to have a different kind of friendship I always felt like I was invading. But I'd always respected Eric, and I think knowing him and knowing about his journey made it easier for me to come out as a lesbian.

Even though Eric was all about LGBTQI+ rights, he hadn't expressed any sort of support for my movement, at least not any visible online support. I thought it was probably because he liked having "masculine" and "feminine" in well-defined categories. He fought hard at one point to be able to be masculine without being reprimanded for it, but he was fighting for it because he was a dude inside of a girl's body. Me, on the other hand-well, I didn't think I was a dude in a girl's body; I just thought that most of what we thought of as being "dude" was made up and served, and I wanted a piece of it for myself. So Eric and I-well, I knew we had our ideological differences.

And when we first got into the car, things went as they usually did. Awkwardly. I said hi, he said hi, Dylan tried to ease the tension by getting us to talk to each other as we drove to the café.

"You know, Dallas, Eric likes his coffee black. Like his metal."

"Cool," I said, unable to muster up much enthusiasm for my one-word response.

"Actually," said Eric, "I haven't listened to much black metal."

"Oh," I said. "You're missing out."

He didn't look like he agreed. Awkwardness.

"And you know, Eric, Dallas shits. Have you heard?"

He smiled. "Yeah, I have." He paused before saying, "And I like what you're doing with Girls Shit Too, Dallas."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I like how you're taking on the myth that girls don't shit. A lot of people think it doesn't matter, but did you know the idea that girls don't shit is one of the reasons why our society continues to require gender-specific bathrooms? Girls want to keep their shit private, and guys want them to too. And gaining access to gender-specific bathrooms is one of the hugest obstacles transgender people face. I'm lucky to live here. I wouldn't be opposed to gender-neutral bathrooms, though. We all shit, right?"

I laughed. "Do you feel more comfortable talking about shitting now that you're out as a boy?"

"For sure! I shit this morning. And I was worried about running out of toilet paper, but luck was in my favor yet again." He winked.

"God, you two are gross," Dylan said. "Do I need to find new lunch partners?" Still, he looked amused, and probably felt happy Eric and I were getting along.

"So, what did you think of Adree's vlog last night?" asked Eric.

"Pffft," I said. Then, using my most annoying voice to do an impression of Adree, I said, "Girls were created to do everything that boys can't do. Like cry. Boys don't cry. But girls are emotional! Girls were created to cry!"

"The jerk principal in Texas told me that exact thing once when I was crying," Dylan said. "That big boys don't cry."

"Of course boys cry. Boys would probably cry a lot more if their principals and dads didn't tell them to stop and act like boys. Can't Adree see how scripted our roles are?" Then I looked at Eric for a response, because I was wondering how scripted he thought they were.

He looked into my eyes and smiled, saying, "Lots of people are ignorant to the scripts, or they follow them just because it's easier. Even I won't cry in public, because people would think I wasn't being masculine enough. And I feel more obligated."

"I'll cry in public," Dylan said. "I don't care."

"Well, you act really feminine," Eric responded. "So it's allowed."

"I wouldn't be caught dead crying in public," I said.

"Good thing the dead don't cry," Dylan said.

We got to the café then, where I ordered a shot of espresso and a cup of ice. My order was met with a glare from the cashier, who knew what was up: me taking my shot of espresso to the creamer station, adding a ton of cream and milk, and filling the cup with ice from my other cup. Bam! I had a five-dollar drink that I'd paid just over a dollar for.

"Fancy," Eric said from behind me. "Are you a café hacker?"

"Sure am! Let me tell you: this is the finest breve latte for the non-wealthy."

"That's badass. You'll have to teach me."

I smiled at him. "It's not difficult."

We decided to sit outside after that, so we could eat the sandwiches we'd brought in our backpacks. At the table, we continued our discussion of Adree's vlog, my caffeine intake fueling my ranting abilities, which were on point: "And all that stuff about how little girls are made into the sorts of teachers and pediatricians our world needs? That just reinforces ideas that those positions are made for women! And that sucks for people like you, Dylan, 'cause you're a dude but you want to be an elementary school teacher."

"Yeah, you really won this week, I'll admit it," said Dylan.

"Cheers!" Eric said, and we held up our cups in celebration.

"I can't believe you drink straight coffee," I told Eric. "How adult of you."

"Well, it's cheaper than a latte. I figured you would like your coffee black too, you know, like your metal. But a breve latte? You're softer than I thought."