Watch Your Step

“Gender works in part through these verbal exchanges where someone’s adherence with the rules or norms for people of their gender identity is called into question.” —Lee Airton, author of Gender: Your Guide. 

A game of hopscotch against the warm summer blacktop with your ballet flats at recess isn’t just fun; it’s an opportunity to join the other girls in an activity. 

Jump. Jump. From one square to the next, making sure to stay within the confines of each square.

Over time, you begin to play the game of avoiding cracks on the ground whenever you can, regardless if you’re playing hopscotch, regardless if you’re alone.

Every step is a landmine, a cautionary tale. It’s difficult to become faster in speed, without one foot stepping on a crack or tripping out of the carefully-laid squares. The rhythm of your feet tread swiftly as you hop, then step together, over and over.

Your steps are deliberate, and you count the numbered blocks in your head.  …7, 8, 9, 10. It’s an expected pattern you must follow.

The fear is still there

As an adult, watching where you step remains relevant — hopscotch morphs into a deadly tightrope routine, a massive amount of expectations below that are ready to swallow you whole. In childhood, you’re carefree. Societal expectations have not yet been placed upon you, and you’re unaware of the gendered binary that might — if you’re like me — later engulf your sense of self.

For most young children, they’re slowly becoming familiar with the unspoken rules of society, and when they are, it’s often in the form of playground games. Questions are outlined in a manner that involves noticing who is included, and who is excluded. Who stands out, and who doesn’t? Do they stay in the confines of the constructed squares?

You told yourself  — promised yourself — that you would come out by the end of this year. That the daily tightrope routine would finally end, and you could rest. But you still aren’t ready to explain the change in your appearance or why you wear a binder, share your pronouns or the name you wish to go by. In a world where diversity is considered “woke” and the message is broadcast on television as a scare tactic, you wonder when it will be the right time to come out. Figuring out when the timing is right makes the tightrope seem like it isn’t fully secured. You wish you could predict where the rope might snap, but that’s impossible.

It’s approaching the end of the year, the unspoken deadline that you set for yourself. The end of the rope is in sight. But is it safe to continue? And are you ready to step off? The tightrope sways in the wind as you make your journey from who you thought you were to who you’ve always been.

Coming out will be dangerous. Losing some people in your life will be inevitable, but it’s a risk you must take to exist as your true self. There will be many difficult conversations. This identity isn’t a choice; it’s not something you decided.  What you did decide is to embrace this part of you in private until you feel safe coming out into the open, stepping off of that tightrope. The only thing you’ve chosen is your happiness.

After you step off, if you step off, everything will be unknown, and out in the open. Your life, business, and future will become an open book, even if you don’t want it to be.

You consider your choices. Waiting longer isn’t an option. Living a double life will be difficult to uphold much longer. The world below your feet already looks like it could swallow you up at any minute. You have to do this on your own time, but you also have to do it before it consumes you.

Why do you push yourself when you know you might fall? You’ve lived in the dark of the closet before, marking the beginning of your tightrope journey. You know you can at least survive in that somber space. But for how long?

The Closet

The closet door opens and closes, like a swinging door on a windy day. You tell yourself it’s okay if a passerby notices its opening. They might comment on its interior or on you, but this is to be expected.

You choose your outfit in the safety of its dark confines, and then the closet shuts. It remains behind you, while in front of you is that tightrope you must walk daily. You practice your stride before beginning the journey, testing your balance to prevent falling. 

Testing is key in a realm where the rope could be ripped from underneath you at any time. It allows you to figure out how to save face. How to answer questions, and how to cover your truth when it seems dangerous to be honest. The cover is weak, thin like a fraying rope.

But you must protect your peace, and sometimes that means hiding the truth. Sometimes, that means turning back around on the tightrope and choosing the closet for that day.

You still don’t feel ready to come out to everyone by the end of this year, to finally cross the tightrope for good, but you’ve successfully told a few. That in itself is an accomplishment. 

Right now, that’s all that matters. You will conquer the tightrope someday. 

And that’s good enough.