Here I am.
You know me, right?
You know the little girl that played in mud and climbed up trees.
The one that had long wavy hair and loved painting her nails.
The one that wanted to see mommy smile at her more than anything else.
The one that preferred Pokemon over barbie by age 10.
The back half of the magic carpet and the third member on the math bowl team on the same night.
And that fifth grader who wanted to wear nothing but graphic tees and jeans with holes in the knees.
The sixth grader that switched to skinny jeans and form fitting tops.
The seventh grader with the tight leather jacket and the tall black boots.
The eight grader switching from skirts one day to three sports bras the next.
The ninth grader that was a butler in the maid cafe.
The one who loves my little pony and one direction as much as soccer and marching band.
The one who hated the curvy body.
The one who started working out in hopes their hips would slim down.
The one who detested the tripple D's.
The one who realized that they couldn't make mommy smile anymore.
The one who fell apart at the seams and cried for weeks about it.
The one who remembers the tall black boots and the leather jacket.
The one who remembers the razor blade that came with it.
The one who remembers being called a dyke in their skirts and sports bras.
The one who remembers coming out as bi during a class discussion on marriage equality.
The one who remembers the ex boyfriend that never talked to them again.
The one who remembers cutting their hair from past their shoulders to a quiff.
The one who stopped trying to remember because it burns.
The one who feels their heart screaming WRONG every time they look in the mirror.
The one who loves being “mistaken” as a he.
The one who sobbed when they figured out what it meant.
The one who dug out the leather jacket and bought new boots.
The one who finds the matching razor blade.
The one who decides to tell their friends.
The one who comes out online.
The one who binds his chest.
The one who dreams of starting T.
The one who can't wait to be out in the real world.
The one who is terrified to tell his mom.
The little girl who wants him to make mommy smile.
The little boy who wants to be seen.
The little boy who takes off his leather and puts down his razor.
The little boy who is finally ready to start being himself.
The little boy who is finally ready to hug the little girl, thank her, and send her on her way.
So here he is.
The little boy.
Here I am.
~ By Eric Fisher
