I get a ton of trolls on here shouting at me that I look like a boy. Firstly, it’s sad that they think that that’s an insult, because most of them are men, and they definitely look like boys, and nobody should have to feel uncomfortable in their own skin.

> But also: I know I ‘look like a boy’. I like it. I do it on purpose. It accurately reflects my gender, and it looks damn good on me.
When I was younger, I tried and failed to look more femme, because I thought that I was supposed to do to fit in and be liked and accepted. >

But it just made me feel miserable. It felt wrong and fake and, besides, I don’t have the figure for it. I’m straight-up-and-down with coat-hanger shoulders. Nature designed me to die in childbirth. This also means that I look hot in a suit, when I can ever find one to fit >

In my early 20s, I realised that no matter how hard I tried, I was never going to fit in, and some people would never like and accept me no matter how nice I was. This was scary. It was also liberating, and it’s still liberating. It meant I could stop trying. So I did.

Instead of trying to conform and fit in with other people’s standards of gender and social hierarchy, I decided to focus on being kind and interesting, on having integrity, and on trying to be a good friend. I don’t always get it right, but I’m still glad I made that choice. >

And choosing not to attempt to conform to those social standards does have a cost. It unsettles people around you. I don’t actually enjoy unsettling people. But my life is better when I am happier in my own skin- and it frees me up to be a better person and a better writer.

The word I use for all this is ‘genderqueer’, and I answer equally to ‘she’ and ‘they’ pronouns right now, but it’s not just about gender. It’s also about being neuroatypical. Which I am. I’m not ready to write about that yet, but someday soon.