Forever in Blue Jeans
Finding freedom from a life of envy
It’s 1960. I’m a six-year-old begging my mom to cut off my hair and buy me boy clothes exactly as my older brother wears. I adamantly assert, “I want to be a boy!”
Although a bit perplexed at the request, Mom agrees, probably because she is a liberal, forward-thinking type and wants my relentless pleading to stop.
I remember the day with clarity. Mom had trimmed my hair to my liking and bought me a pair of blue jeans and a yellow sweatshirt. After I had donned my new identity, I headed for the neighborhood park where I met a little boy on the swing set, and he asked me, “Are you a boy or a girl?”
I was elated! And happily responded, “I’m a girl, but I want to be a boy!” And he said, “I thought so — because you don’t have a zipper in your jeans.”
I was deflated and devastated.
That is my first memory of life slapping me in the face with the hard hand of reality. I still haven’t fully recovered from my introduction to the world of gender roles accompanied by my first taste of envy.
At first glance, my story might appear to be about sexual identity, a political statement, or a protest of inequality. Trust me; it’s not. It was the ’60s, and unisex clothing wasn’t invented yet, and girls had to wear…
