When I Wa Girl/1 966
I always wanted to grow up and be a guy with a white undershirt and large sweat stains under the armpits. To not care how I looked, have greasy hair, a powerful chest with bulging arms. To scratch my crotch absentmindedly. I wasn’t meant to be a girl. But a major reassignment sent everything that was outwards inside. Now at fourteen, nothing was spontaneous and I became self-conscious, self-hating. “Hypocrisy” became my favorite vocabulary word as I tried valiantly to fit in, yet deplored the conformist I had become.