All boys aren't blue...

Dolls, Barbie dolls. They were my thing. I used to make the cutest outfits for those little dolls. This was me among a group of four girls. Did I feel odd? Out of place? No! I felt right at home. Little did I know what it all meant.

I remember the look on my dad’s face one day when I saved up money to buy a doll. It was the one time he actually asked about what I did with the money he’d been giving me. Proud me went up to him all smiles and shit and told him I bought a  barbie doll and named her Lisa. I was only 11 years old, but I still remember that look on his face. I took it with me and kept it with me. Adding to this I never gravitated to playing soccer with the “normal” boys. Gohd it really wasn’t a thing for me at all. A few instances I was forced to partake in school, embarrassing attempts they turned out to be. Fast forward last few years of high school, nothing much had changed, I was still oblivious to my uniqueness, I do choose to call it that, I was different, and it stood out to anyone who had half a brain.

The realisation hit a around that time from not so innocent, flirty, interactions on the then newly arrived Facebook. I remember the rush of excitement and immense regret and guilt and terror all merged into one enormous denial monster. Depression settled in; migraines followed. Why was this happening to me? I literally PRAYED THE GAY AWAY; how naïve I was. Little did I know what the rest of my life had in store for me. I got a souvenir for my migraines, nerd glasses 🤓. But hey, they saved my life. It’s been a long road of acceptance since then and I have not looked back.