Growing Up Awkward and Tomboy

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

I looked down at my feet as I pondered for an answer. I did not know what to say.

Well, I knew I was a girl but I really wanted to answer “boy”. I was 8 then.

I had my hair cut short. I tagged along with my brother’s guy friends and played their games. I did not like wearing dresses and would most definitely cry when asked to wear one.

Oh, and I hated pink on principle.

You see where I’m getting at here.

I wondered why this was so, and at least for me, I believe this was largely environmental.

For one thing, I have an older brother whom I may have subconsciously imitated since he was older and, unlike my parents, was only about two years older than me. He was therefore my usual playmate and companion at home.

He would suggest watching television shows like Power Rangers or He-man, and I would think those are really cool shows to watch. And in those shows, I wanted to identify with the cool, strong characters — not the pretty, weak princesses.

Being the second child and all, I also had clothes that were hand-me-downs from my older brother. To the exasperation of my mother, I would prefer the hand-me-downs rather than the new ‘girly’ clothes that were bought especially for me. I got so used to wearing jeans and loose shirts that nothing made me more uncomfortable than wearing dresses.