What is High School?

Chapter Twenty Two: The Mask

I wear a mask. Almost everywhere I go. I wear it to church, to that family gathering mama said we have to go to. I even wear it at home...where I should be able to take it off.

At home...where I should be able to wear makeup and boxers at the same time. Where I should be able to wear manly cologne and fake nails at the same time. Where I should be able to wear masculine cornrows and a dress at the same time.

But no, I wear that mask at home too. I wear it to the point where sometimes I forget that it's a mask. There is only one place where I don't have to wear that mask. School.

I don't have to wear that mask there. I can wear cologne, and boy jeans, and a man's jacket and no one cares. Because no one should. How I choose to express myself should be my choice. Not an agenda forced upon me by my own mother, the person every queer person prays will, at least, try and support them.

I'm transgender, as an umbrella term. As a specific term, I'm androgynous. Not completely male, but not completely female. I will put on a full face of makeup, but braid my hair. Sure I'll wear fake nails, but only if I can wear boxers. I'll paint my toes...then put on cologne.

That's what's under the mask. Someone who when people look at them, they have no clue what they are. Unfortunately, when my mother saw what was under the mask, she tried to push it on, and make that my permanent face.

That isn't my face, and now it's a fight every single day to take that mask off and just be who I am. My mom may not like it, but there is nothing she can do to change it.

I don't regret who I am. Wouldn't change who I am, though.

I would never change who's under the mask, or make the mask my permanent face. I love who I am, I've accepted who the person under the mask is. It will just take a little longer for others to accept the person under the mask.