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Genderqueer Chicago: Flashback
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By: M
Flashback.
I'm in my second grade classroom. I can remember the exact room, lit with an orange glow of midday from windows directly across from me.
The playground is visible on a hill outside.
I'm sitting at a round table with several girls who were in my class.
We're about eight, I'd say.
Perhaps less.
We're talking about something, I can't recall what.
I make some kind of stupid comment about my gender.
I remember the embarrassment flushing my face,
the shadow of the coat closet directly behind me seeming more inviting than the table of girls before me.
I'm almost close enough to the closet to be inside of it already.
One of them asks something.
I remember the reply I gave clearer than the question.
I squirm in the red plastic chair I'm seated in as she asks, accusingly.
"What, you want to be a girl? Are you gay?"
"No... I just... think it would be... easier...."
I trail off and look down at my hands, trying to change the subject.
That's all I now remember from second grade.
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