I should have been a left-handed boy

When do we actually realise we have been squashed into a mould so that we comply with the conforming image?

It’s 1968 and I’m going to primary school for the first time. My overwhelming memory from that day has stayed with me my entire life. These clothes are wrong! I feel wrong. I feel sick. Why are you making me do this?

I spent the next three years dreading going to school because I had to wear a dress.

In 1971 we moved. My new school said I could wear whatever I liked. My parents never made me wear anything that made me feel uncomfortable but they couldn’t protect me forever in this department.

School made me right-handed too. You will conform Claire!

At eight years old I decided I was born in the wrong body. I should have been a boy.

Grammar school insisted on the traditional dress code. I did everything in my power not to bend to their will; my small, but necessary rebellion, saved me and preserved my integrity. I only became a hockey goal-keeper because I could wear track pants!

There was nothing and no-one the same as me.

I was alone.