When the boy was born
He was born with not much hair
But swaddled up quick
In much too much
Soft pink cotton
Because colours mattered
Even back then
Even if you were colour blind and couldn’t care less
If the cotton was pink or blue or
Green
And then the boy turned one
Wispy hair like outdoor breeze
And a little pink
Pinafore dress and pink tights
And far too many
Cooing aunties with blood splatter cheeks -
The uncles weren’t expected to coo
(Even back then) because
Cooing was a girl’s
Thing
So after time the boy was two
Fine blonde hair with more ribbon than pigtail
And his very first
Barbie doll (he called it Barney)
And not enough
Time allowed to play with
His older brother’s toy cars because
“Doesn’t Barbie want some attention, darling?
Cars are only for your
Brother.”
In a bit the boy was three
Tufty yellow hair like grass
And his first
Ever day at the nursery at the top of the hill
They read a book about
Pinocchio and the boy
Went home and asked his
Mother whether he would get
to be a real boy
Too?
It wasn’t long and the boy was four
Curly hair like thin blonde string
Youngest in reception class
Even back then he
Didn’t want to
Wear a skirt
(the girls wore skirts)
When all the boys were
Wearing ironed straight grey
trousers
All too soon the boy was five
His hair was long: his father wanted him
To grow it out like Rapunzel because
That’s how he had to look if he expected to marry a prince
But the boy didn’t
Want to marry a prince because
He wanted to be a prince
Even back then and
Princes never married other
Princes
In a while the boy was six
His mother had told him not to be so silly
When he’d asked to cut his hair
Because it was absurd to think of a
Girl with short hair
Or a boy with long hair
Even back then
Especially back then
When the world was even younger and even more
Judgemental
By his next birthday the boy was seven
He’d cut off his hair
With the classroom safety scissors
His mother cried and in class
They played a game with Venn diagrams
Where all the boys went in one circle and
The girls sat in another but
The boy went in the boys’ circle
And his teacher told him to stay behind after class and she’d explain Venn diagrams
Again
Soon enough the boy was eight
And he was outcast and called weird not because of his funny haircut
But because the other children
Couldn’t see him for him
And let their sight be clouded
By the body the boy was caged in
And when the boy rattled at the bars
They laughed and jeered
Like he was the prime exhibit in the zoo they went to on
School trips.
It took time, but the boy was nine
His father was trying to convince him to grow his hair again
But he didn’t want to
He didn’t want anything but
To be allowed to be himself
But even though uniqueness and
Individuality was promoted
In his School Assemblies he knew
No one like him and that meant he was
Strange
The boy blew out ten candles
Wearing a party hat on his head
But no one came to his party because
No one wanted to be his friend
Except for Sarah and she was
Even more outcast than him because
She played kissy-tag with other girls
And even the outcast look down on the more outcast
Than them so Sarah hadn’t been invited to his
Party
The clock ticked and the boy was eleven
He’d dyed his hair a lighter shade of blonde
To disguise the black poison gas that
Shrouded his happiness like a soul-******* coffee machine
His parents were worried
Because hhadn’t grown out of it
And it wasn’t just
One of those things and the other
Children noticed and they
Jeered
The boy turned twelve but he didn’t want to
He ran his hands through his cauliflower hair
And he wanted to die rather than
Have to lie about who he really was inside when no one would accept him
And when he ran the blade across his wrists
He felt more bitter relief than anything
As the pain washed away with the
Rushing red river of blood and shame and he didn’t listen to bullies anymore
Because he wasn’t just dead inside he was
Dead
(I'm not trans myself, so I'm deeply sorry if this offends anyone. If it does offend you, please don't hesitate to tell me and I will take it down.)