In the end, we cut our camping holiday short, after a day of beatles, insects and cold hands. And whilst I only ended up staying one night after the tent proved to fail the “waterproof guarantee” that it had declared of itself on the label, (and consequently, ended up in a luxury spa hotel) I did meet a very sweet child, called Freddie. He entered the caravan that we sat in with friends, dressed in a white frilly t-shirt with leggings on, and smiled at everyone sweetly. As it turned out, Freddie wanted to be a girl. However, I discovered later on that most of Freddie’s friends and family spoke about him as a boy, as does he for the time being, at this stage in his short, six year old life. So for the purpose of this article, I will refer to him with male pronouns.
As he talked to me about his two dogs as we walked around the site, I could see that he was very much the center of attention among his friendship group-in a positive way. And whilst it was nice to see Freddie living in the way that he desired, seemingly content in his own little world, I also worried, like his parents, about what life for him had in store. More specifically, how other people would treat him as he started to grow as a person.
Most of me feels it is unnecessary to even write this article. Because, after all, why would I need to? I couldn’t care less about what gender he was, or if his desire to become a girl got stronger. It’s neither here nor there to me. But, having said that, there are many people that don’t share my outlook on, as I call it, live and let live. I don’t believe there is a definition to the word “weird”. As far as my understanding of human psychology goes, we’re all weird. It would be weird not to be weird. And whilst I’m accepting, I can’t help but think about the little bastards that are children, who seem to make it their mission to target anyone who is “different”, especially during the turbulence of high school.
When I was thirteen years old, my so called friends disowned me because I’d fallen head over heals in love with one of the older girls at my school. They’d whine “But what if you start having feelings for us?” and “it’s not natural”. One friend, who I’d known all my life, wouldn’t let me get changed in the same room as her anymore and became uncomfortable at sleepovers. Which, if examined closely, is actually very arrogant. I turned around, remarking “get lost, as if I’d fancy you”, which she took offence at and then refused to talk to me for the rest of the evening. But there you go. People. Strange.
And I guess, as well, that’s another thing that has contributed towards me being so aware of the hurt that stigmas, preconceptions, cause. So much so, that I could never imagine inflicting that pain on anyone else.
Because it’s okay to laugh, to find sex hilarious, to have a good sense of toilet humour. That’s not hurting anyone. Life is an uphill battle, lighten it up. I just don’t want my jokes to end up contributing towards the death of others.
Ideally, I’d choose to live in a wholly peaceful world, but I’m aware that I have to face up to the reality of the current state of humanity.
But there are people in the world who are intelligent, understanding and intellectual.
And I guess, on an ending note, my final hope is that he finds them.