As much as I’d like to identify with queer-liberal-freedom-fuck-the-system-mentality, the idea of having a boyhood and growing into a man, I long to experience that. It’s hard for me to put it into words what boyhood means to me. Boyhood is wearing shorts and no shirt on a summer day, jumping into the water. Boyhood is being teased about liking a girl and cooties. Boyhood is about being fascinated by firefighters and Bruce Lee and bears and your community echoing your excitement. Boyhood is about rough and tumble fun with your guy friends and making ugly faces and fart jokes. Boyhood is about wearing your first tie and hating the stuffiness of it. Boyhood is your first hard-on. Boyhood is being smaller than girls but suddenly being much bigger than girls. Boyhood is looking at men and thinking to yourself — I want to become like that — and there’s no dissonance. Boyhood is acne and facial hair and big feet. Boyhood is the fear and excitement of becoming a certain type of man. That’s the kind of boyhood I wish I had, anyway.

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