Sunday, December 2, 2012


There was an incident on the playground this week where one of the males I work with was referred to as “the queen.” He was more than ok with the remark. To the others that made me “the king.” I was not so impressed. I became incoherent upset and we stopped the jokes for a while.

I appreciate that I’m not your stereotypical woman. I played math and science games as a child, beat the boys at chess and still help the groups with the heavy lifting “Oh you can carry that generator.” Say the men who don’t know me. I have bought make up on and off in my life but always fail at using it and go to the national geographic magazines in the DR’s office “Chatelaine what?” But I am not a King.

I’ve worked damn hard to be a girl and survive as a girl and be a girl through all this world has thrown at me. I have a hard enough time, expressing my sexuality and I didn’t feel like I needed another strike against me with the boys calling me “King.”

This week of course led to a weekend of feminist literature and a greater understanding of who I am as a female. I’m sure there will be more discoveries to follow. As I become healthier I hear more comments from others about who I've become over the past 30 years.

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