I never wanted to be a woman anyways, it’s just what people told me I was. I didn’t necessarily want to be a man, but I was told I only had the two options, so I thought about it sometimes.

Then I was raped. And suddenly I wished so hard that I had been born with a penis. Everything else about male priviledge I’d watched and wished but simply shrugged my shoulders and continued on, but rape is something very different.

Men are raped too you know. Having a penis does not grant you absolute safety.

I’d always been told that certain things were more dangerous for me because of the fact that I was a woman though. So I wanted to throw out my womanhood altogether. Or at the very least, I wished I was less visibly a woman.

I started wearing tighter bras and looser shirts, bulkier sweatshirts. Fewer skirts, more jeans. I feared my femininity.

I still do.

I am still feminine though. I still present in a way that is coded as feminine in our society. I still think about chopping my breasts off, but now we’re finally back to the original reason: breasts are just really freaking inconvenient man. I’ve said for years, breasts are like curly hair: super attractive on other people, but I hate the work and pain required to have them myself. I didn’t choose this, can I please get rid of it now?

I am not a man, and only trauma ever made me desire to be one in any way. I am not a woman though, and that would be true with or without the trauma. In fact, presenting as female feels almost radical given my nonbinary gender. Of course, it also makes it more difficult to explain my gender to the cis-het crowd.

Of course I couldn’t choose something simple and easy.