My Daughter, My Son

Girls with Gender Identity Disorder display intense negative reactions to parental expectations and attempts to have them wear dresses or other feminine attire.
Some may refuse to attend school or social events where such clothes may be required. They prefer boy’s clothing and short hair, are often misidentified by strangers as boys, and may ask to be called a boy’s name. Their fantasy heroes are most often powerful male figures, such as Batman or Superman. These girls prefer boys as playmates.
They show little interest in neither dolls nor any form of feminine dress up or role-play activity. A girl with this disorder may occasionally refuse to urinate in a sitting position. She may claim that she has or will grow a penis and may not want to grow breasts or menstruate. Females may try to hide their breasts by binding them close to their chest walls.
She may assert that she will grow up to be a man. Adolescents with the Gender Identity Disorder are particularly at risk for depression, suicidal ideation, and even suicide attempts. In child clinic samples, there are approximately five boys for each girl referred with this disorder.

She was only three,
“Where’s my willy?” she voiced,
Sad, lost, utterly perplexed.
“Don’t be silly!” adult groaned, vexed,
“Girl child, this shall never ever be.”
She frowned, pondered, decided.
Boy’s toys, Spiderman, dinosaurs
Action man, Batman, cars, tools.
Don’t dare buy perfect Barbie’s,
Baby dolls to dress, or such girlie stuff,
Attempt to address how to dress, in paisley dress,
Not that it works.

Dress ripped from her frame,
Flung in disgust across pink carpet,
Throws herself on the bed
Wailing, at injustice of that
Thing nestled between her legs.
So, she chose friends, all boys,
Looked up to the men, cut off her hair,
Locks chopped, fell in grave faint,
Wonderful mass tumbled down dead,
Blonde trails strewn, scissors in little hand
On pink carpet, covering grim superman.

“I’m never having babies” she chimed,
“Or getting married!”
Blue eyes of my baby blue, adamant.
“I’m going to be a man, for that’s who I am.”
She grew, tall, splendid, as God intended,
Puppy fat fell in awe, slim curves took shape,
Moulded to fine bone, thrive like white swan.
Red curse descended like blanket of rage,
Breasts bound tight, flattened in shame,
Arched shoulders became round, like mountains,
Disguising beautiful woman child,
Who cried silently inside, at the injustice of that
Thing nestled between her legs.

Spawned, scorned, ripped and roared,
Screaming lyrics blasted every room,
Cutting skin, picking, destroying layers,
Bucking, kicking, rebelling, resisting,
Stared at reflection disgusted, spitting
Fought and fought, until silently imprisoned
Torn, forlorn, shunned, simply slept,
To finally outcast of school, alone she stood,
Defending her thoughts, to merge as one,
Never having a choice, wanting to belong
To the voice living in her soul.
She held firm, staunch, cemented in deep,
Entrenched with need, no flutter, stutter,
Or mutter, but shouted for all to hear
I AM A BOY!