“You can't wear a suit to the Kingdom Hall, you're a girl.” -Grandma
Looking in the mirror, feeling like I had been struck by a semi. Duct tape on my chest, broken art supplies, filthy kitchen scissors, hair covering the bathroom floor, a smile on my face. “Your hair is too short.” My mom said-- pushing me back down the mountain of happiness I had spent months upon months trying to climb. I cursed and screamed inside, bones trembling. I remained silent.
I remember walking cautiously into the kitchen. “What? It's 2018 where the boys look like girls and the girls look like boys.” My mom's boyfriend commented, disappointed and extremely upset just like her. Ignoring my “family” became the usual from that point on. A house full of Republicans isn't always the best place for a boy like me, and a house isn’t always a home either.
Nobody will see me for who I really am. Not even when I start school after the summer has died out. “Is Callie here?” “Yes,” I reply sounding like someone force-fed me a spoonful of broken glass. No, Callie isn't here, Ethan is. He knows himself and takes pride in his name and appearance, he’s happy. Callie's dead.
At first, I was worried I would puzzle my teachers. So a name that wasn't mine would rest on the top of every paper. It felt as if the tip of my mom's cigarette burnt a hole through my stomach every time I wrote that name that wasn’t really my name.
The boy's bathroom-- out of the question. The neutral one-- full. Looking at the floor, rushing out the door. Head spinning like a tornado, anxiety rushing through my veins, eyes full of water.
DeLong gym shirts go over your regular clothes when you have the curse that brings you pain every time you go home, every time you walk on school property. Everywhere except your best friends house, where “Callie” is almost unheard of. The place where you feel safe. “Stand your ground.” He said, so I did...
I'm not scared to say my name anymore. I'm terrified to go home. I'm not scared to write my name on top of my school papers. I'm paranoid my “family” will see them. I'm not afraid to be Ethan. As long as my “family’s” nowhere to be seen.
My mother’s house isn't my home, it’s my prison. She’s the cruel judge who makes me stay there, and her boyfriend is the jailer. My dad’s just the confused poor guy who my mom cheated on.
My house isn’t my home. Eldorado Apartments is. That’s where Jack, Andy, Ryan, and Courtney live. The people that make me feel at home. That’s the one place where I feel completely comfortable. I broke down crying in Courtney’s living room when I found out how much she loved and accepted her kids. I wish Courtney were my parent.
The best days seem to be the days when Andy texts me late at night after he’s finished with work to ask about Jack or how I'm doing. He always knows what to say to make someone feel better about a horrible situation. He cares an unbelievable amount for his son, Jack (my best friend) even though Jack thinks he couldn't care less. Andy works 12-hour shifts at Drylock, leaving his son to look after the younger one while his dumb girlfriend just sits around. She doesn’t like kids. Most people would consider Andy a bad parent... he’s not. He’s there, he just needs to make a living to support his family. Not many people understand that. But I do, and I have tons of respect for him. Andy does everything he possibly can for his kids and will always talk to me when I'm having a rough time.
One day, a neon pink post-it note was left on my science study guide. My name had disappeared and in its place sat Callie. I hardly slept at all that night. I kept waking up and worrying.
After school the next day, the insensitive judge yelled at me for sneaking behind my parent’s backs and she told to stay a girl. Maybe my moms worried about me. But maybe she really doesn’t care about my happiness. Unfortunately, this problem hasn’t been solved. But I'm becoming more and more myself each day, and I'll try harder. I'm proud I’m me, and not a stranger to myself. I smile just about every time my friends say my name, and not my curse. I smile when I hear Ethanos instead of Kat.
I will hope and pray until the day I die that my parents will come around and accept me. Maybe they never will, but at least I’ll have a few friends who understand. They accept me 100% and probably always will. They’re my real family, even if they aren’t by blood. I'm happy I’m myself. Even if that means feeling terrified everywhere I set foot.
I googled what Ethan meant a few weeks ago. I found out it's Hebrew for strong. Everyone who knows me well says that it suits me, and maybe that's why. I’ve been through quite a lot...
