The Monsters Within

I’ve been fighting for independence as long as I can remember. There’s a story that I’ve heard many times, repeated over the years as evidence of my strong will and determination. It was sometime in the late 1980s and I sat inches from the TV, sound blaring. My dad came over, turned it down and told me it was too loud.

In my typical second child, batshit crazy way I looked him dead in the eyes and cranked the volume up once again. This went back and forth for a while, the reprimands and punishments slowly increasing in intensity. A stern tone turned into a slapped hand which turned into a spanked bottom, yet still I stared defiantly into the eyes of my father, who finally retreated to the kitchen to tell my mother he wasn’t sure what else to do.

Nothing was working, I just kept turning up the TV, louder and louder. Maybe I was possessed? I finally broke, but I made sure to push it as far as I could, as far as my tiny 3 year old mind and body could take me. That has always been me, whether to my benefit or downfall, I’ve always been a feisty little son of a bitch. 

This trend continued over the years in various forms. As a child I remember chugging more milk than I’d ever actually want to prove that I could, in fact, finish all of it. As a teen I rebelled against an irritating teacher and failed gym (apparently not changing into gym wear and hiding to eat cookies under the bleachers was frowned upon).

I played the part of spooky weirdo despite the fact that I was actually a straight A student (when I wanted to be). In my senior year I wore a wallet chain and got pulled aside by school security to remove it. She followed up with me later to tell me that she was shocked to see my grades. “Usually our problem students are failing.” I had a 4.2 grade point average.

Even in college I had multiple people doubt my ability to write papers, complete work and pass classes because I was one of those “artsy” types.

One of my favorite lines from a classmate was that I should probably have my husband look over my work to make corrections before I submit it. It took everything in me to not rip that girl’s face off in the middle of the student center parking lot.

Just last summer I shaved my head in spite of all of the warnings that I might end up looking “too butch”. 

I had a therapist once tell me that it was evident that I put my all into everything I did. When I wanted to pass an exam I would get a perfect score plus the extra credit and when I was determined to fail I did so with glorious fury. At the time I took this as a compliment, and I do think with the right motivation this could in fact be a superpower, but in my case there seemed to be a lack of direction or logical motivation for this passion.

When you’re raised in an environment with a complete lack of control these qualities tend to get out of control. In one breath I was being told that I’d be a “king maker and a king breaker” and in the next I was told that everything that I thought and felt was a sinful abomination, and I was taught in great depth about shame and hate.

Most of that shame revolved around being born a girl, the pressures of which I never knew would dominate every waking moment of my existence. 

In my life I’ve been told so many things, so many contradicting statements about who I am supposed to be. It started at home, expanded to the media, leached into my interactions with classmates, friends, family, coworkers and strangers, and has been forever perpetuated by my government.

• You could be prettier if you just tried harder.
• Why do you want to look like a lesbian?
• Did you know those pills can make you gain weight?
• Don’t tell anyone about this game we’re playing.
• I see you’ve developed into quite the young woman.
• I hope your ovaries rot. Body hair on girls is so dirty and gross.
• I can’t promise I won’t cheat on you if I’m out on the road.
• Let’s go into the fitting room and see who can change the fastest.
• Are you married?
• Is it serious?
• Can’t you see the chemistry we have.
• You shouldn’t be wearing that.
• What do you mean you want a C-Section?
• You haven’t tried nearly long enough.
• By using that birth control you’re having abortions every month.
• Women should be better behaved than men. 

I’ve learned that the worst things you can be in life are an unfeminine woman, fat, and queer. Well world, here I fucking am. I check all of those despicable boxes. Despite your best efforts I continue to exist and take up space, completely offensive in every way.

It never mattered if I got perfect grades, went on a hundred diets, wore long hair and makeup, dressed sexy, flirted, had that extra drink to loosen me up, it was never right and never enough.

It has taken me a lifetime but I’ve finally learned that living to make other people happy is the quickest way to become a prisoner.

Whether or not you ever actually get the independence you’re fighting for, never be anyone but you. Don’t hide, don’t apologize and don’t ask for permission to exist. I’ve tried that life and it has been nothing but a nightmare. 

Here I fucking am!

                                                                            

                                                    Leah

Leah is a shameless nerd. By trade she is a speech pathologist, but by passion she is a player of The Sims, a very amateur detective and a puzzle solver. (She is also Monica's niece and one of her best friends. Monica is proud as HELL of this human being!)