ONE OF THE BOYS

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 Student of the Week was the highest honour any eight-year-old kid could be bestowed in Room 8 at Elmwood Normal School. Deep down, I knew it was a just very simple discipline tactic, rewarding any random child whose turn happened to be next. But I wasn’t going to let my glass half empty outlook deter me from relishing my moment as my class sat around me on the mat and all gave out compliments – which were then written down by the teacher on a large colour piece of poster board with a photo of me on it. 

“Chris has good gender balance; he plays with boys and girls” – the whole class agreed. It was the only genuine compliment I got. Deep down, I knew the jig was up. My class finally knew I wasn’t like the other boys. Despite my best efforts to pretend I liked bullrush, even my eight-year-old counterparts could see I was at my most comfortable while playing ‘witches’ with the girls. 

The social pressure to hang exclusively with ‘the lads’ has been a life-long battle. I have flashbacks of a failed attempt for my tenth birthday party. At that age, to invite a girl to your birthday party meant you were most definitely in love with her and wanted to marry her and kiss her… if only they knew. So, I begrudgingly threw a boy’s trip away. The goal was to create a day so masculine even a current Crusader would feel emasculated in the environment. 

I opted for a relaxing trip to Hanmer Springs to soak in hot water while having deep, personal conversations, followed by a gorgeous bushwalk and picnic over the sunset. I actually inadvertently planned a weekend away for new young mums who are having their first weekend away with the kids. 

But over time, I’ve found the confidence to speak up when I feel a gender split on the cards. It happens the most now when preparing for a wedding.

“Ladies, you stay inside and set the tables and do the floral arrangements, and boys, you go outside and set up the fairy lights and marquee.” 

It’s at this point I confidently put up my hand and say as a proudly gay man, I think my talents are best suited inside with the flowers. More often than not, changing place with the only lesbian in the bridal party who is more than happy to show the boys how to put up the marquee.

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