And we're off on my revisionist story. Like many other people I
know, I often did this "please, please, please let me be a girl
when I wake up / open my eyes" thing. Needless to say, wishing
wasn't enough to make it happen. That took a lot of work.
One thing that attracts me to Japanese
comics is that the private school I went to in the U.S. in the fifties
and sixties had a lot in common with the way Japanese schools are run.
(See Maiko
Covington's essays about her experiences.) Things weren't exactly the
same for me of course, but we had uniforms, stood when an adult entered
the room, had morning assembly, teachers changed rooms instead of students,
we had field trips and 'culture fair' types of events. In the fifties
it was okay for a teacher to hit a student with a ruler or send them out
to stand in the hall. One custom Japanese schools don't have: dentention.
Our teachers could give detention on a whim. After school and on weekends
the study hall was always full of students who had detention. (How would
I know that? Ano...)
To say I was precocious is an understatement. In kindergarten we
were learning to tell time by drawing clock faces. I turned mine over
and drew the gears that made the clock work. (I liked to take things
apart.) The teacher showed what I had done to the other students, who
moved me to the top of their "we hate that weird kid" lists.
One of many reasons I was put in a private school in third grade. (If
the teacher looks familiar, yes this is fan appreciation of Kazami
Mizuho in Onegai Teacher! )
Dodge ball, vomiting after being forced to run
up and down the bleachers, being beaten up by classmates, the locker
room, showers. I once ran around the entire campus bawling my eyes out
before the teacher who had ordered me to do so decided that having
everyone in the school witness his brutality might not be a good thing.
(Too many people knew what I had to put up with at home.) There are few
things or people I have every truly hated, but P.E. class and a few P.E.
instructors are on that list.
Though I received A's on my papers, I did indeed receive a C
for a final grade in Creative Writing because I cannot spell. My quarter
grades in Chemistry went like this: A, B, C, D; because I didn't study. I
don't remember what else I took. I remember those two classes because I'm
a writer, and my lab partner in Chemistry was a very nice person. Oh! I
had an art class, in which I was cut a great deal of slack. Heh.
When I was young one could buy cherry bombs, M-80's and coils of fuse
over the counter. These are more like explosives than fireworks. Folks used
them to blow stumps out of the ground. I would spend a fair amount of time
unwrapping Black Cats to get piles of flash powder. I liked to blow things
up. It's a wonder I survived.
I can hear notes in my head, and I can tune a guitar by ear,
but when I try to sing or play what's in my head, that is not what comes
out. Like spelling and doing math, I can be certain I'm doing the
right thing but do the opposite without realizing it.
Before long I began avoiding people. I spent my free time alone in
my room, reading. At school I would walk the halls during my lunch period
rather than hope to find one of the three people I felt safe sitting with.
Early in tenth grade I dropped out because I simply couldn't stand being a
target of abuse any longer.
A common theme of science fiction in the fifties was a nuclear war
that left only a few people alive. A common day dream of mine was that I
was the last person on Earth and could do anything I wanted; and what I
wanted most was to be a girl.
Why? Why do people do so many horrible things to each other? The big
things stand out in our collective memory, but the little things also
destroy lives. Is it that difficult to be nice to each other? Is love so
impossible? Why?
Carys, Jami and Tam talk about gender identity. This is the third year I
have participated in the
TDOR Webcomics Project facilitated by
Jenn Dolari. And yes, like Tam, I have been on many such panels, talking with
strangers about things I'd rather not talk about at all, in hopes that it will
help people understand and accept trans people.
If I had a dollar for every time someone's yelled at me from a passing car,
I'd be able to buy a couple more Hitohira DVDs. I actually kind of liked
fencing. (Of course I in fact wore a mask.)
It isn't actually possible to watch too much cute anime... is it?
(In case you're wondering, the only thing Risa has in common with a tiny
snow fairy named Sugar is hair color.)
Ah, it's just like having kids again! This should probably have been
two pages, but I didn't think I had time during the break to color another
two separate pages. (BTW, it is no mistake that these two little folks are
proportioned differently. Much will become clear soon. More clear, at
least. Maybe.)
