Because I Am Not A Girl

I once saw a rather accurate feminist post story a boy who was raised to be formed into a masculine woman abuser.  How people behave with eachother is based off of their experiences.  People behave the way they expect others to want them to. This post attempts to copy the one I saw months ago, and I’d link it if I knew how to find it.


My parents told me they wanted a girl, and that’s why they had to have another child.  Go play outside.  Go read your books.  Go play your video games.

It doesn’t matter what my body looks like.  It doesn’t matter what any boy looks like.  Boys can’t be pretty.  Boys can’t be beautiful.  I wish I was a girl.

I’ll play my video games to pass the time.  The people I’ve never met seem to like me.  They tell me they enjoy me being around.  They like me.

My father is too busy at work.  My mother doesn’t want to talk to me.  She wishes I was a girl.

I see people on TV who have friends. It must be fiction.  My parents don’t have friends.  I don’t have friends.  I don’t even know what having a friend means.

I threaten to run away.  Mother laughs at me.  She tells me that nobody wants me. I don’t want to live.

I work hard to make people want me.  Top of the class, top in the sport.  Everyone says I did not do good enough.  Not perfect enough.  Not enough friends, not enough activities.  Not the best enough.

If I was a girl it would not matter.  I could have friends if I was a girl.  But I am a boy.

Emotions are not for boys.  Perfection means that as a boy I don’t feel emotion.  I can’t do it by myself, but I want to be perfect so I have to find a way.  I found out how.  The knife helped me.

Not good enough.  Not perfect enough.  To perfect to be good enough.  I don’t know how to be good enough.  I don’t know how to be perfect enough.  The blood drips to the floor.

I am good enough because I am better than everyone else.

I am worth you because I would give you more than anyone else would.

You don’t ask for more, instead you just say I am still not good enough.

You say I need more time but you will not wait.

It is not your problem so you are not at fault.

I make worse mistakes than you do.

I push you away, I don’t know how to be around you.

I become better because going backwards means giving up.  Giving up means death.

Almost everything that you give me can be replaced by a knife.  Almost everything.


2 thoughts on “Because I Am Not A Girl

  1. This post hurts because it hits too close to home. I’m blessed by not having the same story to tell as that boy, but despite that I’ve never felt good enough. Throughout my life I’ve become an expert marksman, shooting myself in the foot (fortunately, that’s figurative). I major in good starts, but poor follow up. I feel they look at me, thinking, “What a shame, he had so much potential.” That’s right, failure is a foregone conclusion for me.

    If I didn’t have my heavenly Father and big Brother Jesus, I’d be completely hopeless. But somehow, I still can’t figure out why, God truly loves me, passionately loves me, and I’ve never given Him the slightest reason to do that. The easy answer is, it’s a God thing.

    The fictitious boy in your post is ripe for “gender confusion,” but I hate to use that term because it gives the excuse of a clinical diagnosis to what boils down to sexual perversion. I know about “gender confusion” because from early on I felt most comfortable with girls. I was more emotionally sensitive than the other boys, or at least more sensitive than they let on. I hated competition because I felt I couldn’t win — ever. Some thought my mannerisms were a bit effeminate, but as I grew through puberty I had no confusion at all about where my preferences lay. The thought of sex with a boy nauseated me, and I longed to be intimate with girls.

    If I must categorize my religious pigeon-hole, I’m a Biblically conservative Evangelical, but as that category includes so many unthinking bigots, such as gun-rights defenders, racial bigots, moral bigots, and gay-bashers, I’m reluctant to apply it to myself. As each of those issues is an essay in itself, I’ll make a mental note to deal with them in my blog. Thing is, my Savior mandates me to think and pray through every attitude and conviction that I form, making sure that I have sound Biblical bases for them. I’m acutely aware that the unbelieving world watches and waits for people like me to slip up, as they are under the mistaken impression that all of us judge them for their sin, so they prefer discrediting us, to investigating what we believe. I can’t say I blame them much.

    I apologize for such a lengthy comment, but as you saw enough merit in my blog to follow it, I thought you might be interested in my comments on your post. By the way, thanks for the follow.

    Blessings to you, as you follow our Lord Jesus Christ,


  2. I read this post first, but will respond second since I wanted to read everything you wrote on that topic before I responded.

    Do you believe in a sexual binary? You say gay-bashers are in the wrong, but you indicate a “perversion?” Male and Female, and everything else is wrong? Homosexuality is wrong? Perversion for me indicates that someone is being wronged, and if both parties desire the act, it’s not perverted. The first male I saw on TV that I wanted to have was actually in church, and I was very angry with God that he would make me experience such feelings. I’m required here to add thatI’ve been attracted to very few males. I’d be pushing it if I said five.

    I know that I don’t align with “gender confusion” myself considering that all I wanted was to be desired as a girl is desired. (The binary has distinct differences in how someone is desired by sex.) Dainty, irresistable.

    People do wait for Christians to fall so that they can take a hammer to them. Not going to lie, and not likely to end anytime soon. I was raised with very judgemental strict mormons, but that’s not why they wait. They wait as if you’re intolerant, like they can say “I told you so, welcome to the real world” like you’re two and you just found out your mother is Santa.

    Thank you for the lengthy post. You make me question and think of a lot of things that I would not have otherwise.


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