Boy... | Teen Ink

Boy...

February 25, 2015
By Megan Kukieza BRONZE, Gibsonia, Pennsylvania
Megan Kukieza BRONZE, Gibsonia, Pennsylvania
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

At the age of 17, I broke the mold. No, I did not literally break a mold; I grew out of the old me. It started on a snowy night at around 11pm and I began over-thinking about the world. Asking questions I didn’t really want answered. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind out of me, I sat up quickly with a heavy breath. I thought to myself, “This isn’t me.” With that statement, everything changed. I always knew I was different.  I had accepted that, but this? This was unexpected.


The first thing I did was go on the internet to do some research, and search after search, nothing helped me. I read the same stories over and over but none of them matched with mine. Now I know what you’re thinking. Not every story is the same. So I tried something new. I put in the search, “Gender confusion,” and eureka! A huge smile hit my face from ear to ear and the gears of my brain began turning faster than ever before. It was almost as if I could smell the burning of metal. There were other people out there who went through the same thing. Validation hit.  I was not alone. So I did what any person would do. I cried salty tears of joy. I had begun my quest to find myself.


Every journey has its ups and downs. Once I found out an idea of what I was feeling I shared it. My first mistake had been made, my first wrong turn down a road of dirt and decay. My friend Joe’s first words when I told him my discovery was that it “doesn’t exist.” I was no longer his friend after that. He decided he didn’t want to be friends with someone like me, “Someone like me?” I thought to myself. I am no different than him in any way other than the fact that I have found a path that isn’t covered in thorns anymore, it had cleared in front of my eyes.  I didn’t need him. He brought me down and no soldier needs extra baggage, especially on a mission that takes years to complete.


After my first discovery I began wanting more. I found words like “genderqueer” and “androgynous” but the one that seemed to fit me the best, even better than my favorite shirt, was genderfluid. This means that I do not define myself as male or female all the time. I can be a boy if I feel like a boy that day, and I can be female if that’s what feels right at that time. Sometimes I am even in between and I don’t consider myself one or the other. This was my missing puzzle piece. This was my life now.


I figured the next step is telling the people I care about most, but I don’t think I am quite there yet. So I am starting with whoever reads this memoir. My name is Ronni, and I am genderfluid.
 


The author's comments:

I have been going through my gender journey so here is what i have so far...


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