trouble.”
I thought,
Whatever.
I walked into the office and said, “Hi, did you need me for something?” Again, the dean was there; the principal was there. The principal said, “Yeah, why are you dressed like this?”
“Because I want to dress like this. It’s Dress Down Day. I can wear whatever I want.”
“Well, you can’t come to school dressed like a woman.”
“Well, I am a woman.” He got really angry. He slammed his hand on the table, “YOU’RE A BOY! YOU’RE NOT A WOMAN! YOU’RE A BOY!”
I started crying at that point. I said, “Actually, I am a girl. You just need to educate yourself. Get on Google and Google
transsexual,
’cause I’m a girl.”
He said, “You’re creating this whole problem, this whole circus. Anything that happens to you is your fault, because you’re coming to school dressed like a clown!”
I was crying — I’m still crying.
He said, “You need to go home and change into boys’ clothes.”
“Well, I don’t have any boys’ clothes. So if you buy me boys’ clothes, then I’ll wear them.”
“Then I guess you need to go home and stay home and you cannot come to school on any other Dress Down Day.”
“Fine! That’s a day off for me.”
The dean was a little calmer, a little nicer. The principal was a straight-up asshole. I hated him.
The dean said, “Look, Matthew, if you’re a girl, why do you have to show it now?”
“Because I’m not waiting for nothing. I’m not waiting for high school to be over. I want this done now! I’m starting now!”
“But why the nails?”
“Why can’t I have nails?”
“Well, you know you can’t be wearing nails to school.”
“But it’s not in the handbook. If it’s not in the handbook, that means I can wear nails.”
“I’m sorry, but we didn’t think that would be an issue.”
“Well, now you know. Next year you need to put it in the handbook. Till then, I’m going to wear my nails.”
“But why do you need to wear so much makeup?”
“Because it’s not in the handbook, so I can do it.”
The dean said, “Again, we didn’t think we had to address these things because it’s all boys here. We assumed that this would not be an issue.”
“Well, you can’t assume; you need to put it in the handbook.”
“But my wife doesn’t even wear that much makeup.”
“Every girl is different.”
I told him, “You know what? You guys, you need to understand: I’m transgender. I feel like a woman. I don’t feel like a boy. This is what I want to do. There are other transgender people in this school who are afraid to come out.”
Other students had come up to me privately and told me that they feel like a woman but that they couldn’t show it because of school, because of their mom, because they were scared. I’d tell them that I was there once. “You just have to give it a shot. There’s nothing they can really do to you.” That’s what life is about, taking chances. You’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t give it a try.
I think the other students were freaked out because I looked like a girl and I was pressing against gender boundaries. There were some instances when I’d be walking up the stairs and people thought I was a girl. “Oh, there’s a girl here? Oh, wait, that’s that weird kid.”
In art class the teacher told us to hang up our paintings in the cafeteria while the underclassmen were having lunch. I was immediately worried. I told Hoay, who was in the class, “I’m really nervous. I feel like they might throw something at me.” He told me to relax and just hang up my artwork. Lo and behold, when I walked into the cafeteria, everyone took immediate notice of me. I was kinda hard to miss with my red hair. Then slowly but surely I started to hear, “Boo, booo, boooo, booooo.” It got louder and louder, and more intense.
Then they started shouting, “You don’t belong here. Go somewhere else. Get out! Faggot.”
The teachers tried to calm everyone
I thought,
Whatever.
I walked into the office and said, “Hi, did you need me for something?” Again, the dean was there; the principal was there. The principal said, “Yeah, why are you dressed like this?”
“Because I want to dress like this. It’s Dress Down Day. I can wear whatever I want.”
“Well, you can’t come to school dressed like a woman.”
“Well, I am a woman.” He got really angry. He slammed his hand on the table, “YOU’RE A BOY! YOU’RE NOT A WOMAN! YOU’RE A BOY!”
I started crying at that point. I said, “Actually, I am a girl. You just need to educate yourself. Get on Google and Google
transsexual,
’cause I’m a girl.”
He said, “You’re creating this whole problem, this whole circus. Anything that happens to you is your fault, because you’re coming to school dressed like a clown!”
I was crying — I’m still crying.
He said, “You need to go home and change into boys’ clothes.”
“Well, I don’t have any boys’ clothes. So if you buy me boys’ clothes, then I’ll wear them.”
“Then I guess you need to go home and stay home and you cannot come to school on any other Dress Down Day.”
“Fine! That’s a day off for me.”
The dean was a little calmer, a little nicer. The principal was a straight-up asshole. I hated him.
The dean said, “Look, Matthew, if you’re a girl, why do you have to show it now?”
“Because I’m not waiting for nothing. I’m not waiting for high school to be over. I want this done now! I’m starting now!”
“But why the nails?”
“Why can’t I have nails?”
“Well, you know you can’t be wearing nails to school.”
“But it’s not in the handbook. If it’s not in the handbook, that means I can wear nails.”
“I’m sorry, but we didn’t think that would be an issue.”
“Well, now you know. Next year you need to put it in the handbook. Till then, I’m going to wear my nails.”
“But why do you need to wear so much makeup?”
“Because it’s not in the handbook, so I can do it.”
The dean said, “Again, we didn’t think we had to address these things because it’s all boys here. We assumed that this would not be an issue.”
“Well, you can’t assume; you need to put it in the handbook.”
“But my wife doesn’t even wear that much makeup.”
“Every girl is different.”
I told him, “You know what? You guys, you need to understand: I’m transgender. I feel like a woman. I don’t feel like a boy. This is what I want to do. There are other transgender people in this school who are afraid to come out.”
Other students had come up to me privately and told me that they feel like a woman but that they couldn’t show it because of school, because of their mom, because they were scared. I’d tell them that I was there once. “You just have to give it a shot. There’s nothing they can really do to you.” That’s what life is about, taking chances. You’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t give it a try.
I think the other students were freaked out because I looked like a girl and I was pressing against gender boundaries. There were some instances when I’d be walking up the stairs and people thought I was a girl. “Oh, there’s a girl here? Oh, wait, that’s that weird kid.”
In art class the teacher told us to hang up our paintings in the cafeteria while the underclassmen were having lunch. I was immediately worried. I told Hoay, who was in the class, “I’m really nervous. I feel like they might throw something at me.” He told me to relax and just hang up my artwork. Lo and behold, when I walked into the cafeteria, everyone took immediate notice of me. I was kinda hard to miss with my red hair. Then slowly but surely I started to hear, “Boo, booo, boooo, booooo.” It got louder and louder, and more intense.
Then they started shouting, “You don’t belong here. Go somewhere else. Get out! Faggot.”
The teachers tried to calm everyone
Similar Books
