I was born female shaped. Clothed in painstakingly sewn matching dresses and knickers. Brought up to be clean and tidy at all times; quiet too.
No room for questions about why this must be so. My younger brother had the freedom to get dirty, and to play with knives and candles - which is how our house burned down on my thirteenth birthday…
I was born female shaped. Clothed in painstakingly sewn matching dresses and knickers. Brought up to be clean and tidy at all times; quiet too.
No room for questions about why this must be so. My younger brother had the freedom to get dirty, and to play with knives and candles - which is how our house burned down on my thirteenth birthday.
At family gatherings I was withdrawn. Not because I was trying to be feminine, but through being overwhelmed by the noise and expectation to be sociable. Girls love to chatter, you know. Or so I was told.
Usually far too inquisitive and boisterous for my parents’ liking, I was suddenly too silent. I was simultaneously too loud and too quiet. Taking up too much space and not enough.
“Stand up straight, dear!” they exclaimed. “You’ve a lovely figure, you should show it off.”
As I stood, round-shouldered, trying to hide my developing breasts.
Pretending to be grateful for presents of slippery lace underwear from my grandmother and her sister for my fourteenth birthday.
“We saw it, dear, and thought it was so *you*,” they cried in delight.
And I buried my shame and disappointment deep, deep down. I’d have loved a pump for my long-saved-up-for racing bike.
How invisible I felt.
Decades later, having spent (wasted?) too many years squeezing and squashing myself into deformed shapes demanded by family, jobs, husbands and their families, I have finally called time on the whole ridiculous charade.
I am non-binary; I am neither female nor male.
We all need the freedom to take up our own uniquely shaped space. Gently guiding and encouraging less certain souls to claim theirs too.
We are all worthy of being valued, whatever shape and size we are.
Rowan, this from you is so moving and written with such quiet certainty - that knowledge of your own reality and needs that were constantly being undercut by family/society in your growing. How much it spoke to me, and I will be reading it to my teenage daughter when she returns from school: we are trying so hard to use as little language as possible around her, other than to tell her we love her and to show interest in what interests her. So much language is poured over girls from the moment of birth until our last days: much of it nonsense at best, dangerous at worst. I'm so glad to know you've arrived - as I have - at a sense of self that is wholly your own. Thank you for sharing this piece. Tanya xx
Thank you so much for your support, Tanya. Raising awareness of differences and encouraging acceptance is a monumental task. Exhausting often, but always necessary. Your children are very lucky so have such wonderful parents.
I was born female shaped. Clothed in painstakingly sewn matching dresses and knickers. Brought up to be clean and tidy at all times; quiet too.
No room for questions about why this must be so. My younger brother had the freedom to get dirty, and to play with knives and candles - which is how our house burned down on my thirteenth birthday.
At family gatherings I was withdrawn. Not because I was trying to be feminine, but through being overwhelmed by the noise and expectation to be sociable. Girls love to chatter, you know. Or so I was told.
Usually far too inquisitive and boisterous for my parents’ liking, I was suddenly too silent. I was simultaneously too loud and too quiet. Taking up too much space and not enough.
“Stand up straight, dear!” they exclaimed. “You’ve a lovely figure, you should show it off.”
As I stood, round-shouldered, trying to hide my developing breasts.
Pretending to be grateful for presents of slippery lace underwear from my grandmother and her sister for my fourteenth birthday.
“We saw it, dear, and thought it was so *you*,” they cried in delight.
And I buried my shame and disappointment deep, deep down. I’d have loved a pump for my long-saved-up-for racing bike.
How invisible I felt.
Decades later, having spent (wasted?) too many years squeezing and squashing myself into deformed shapes demanded by family, jobs, husbands and their families, I have finally called time on the whole ridiculous charade.
I am non-binary; I am neither female nor male.
We all need the freedom to take up our own uniquely shaped space. Gently guiding and encouraging less certain souls to claim theirs too.
We are all worthy of being valued, whatever shape and size we are.
Rowan, this from you is so moving and written with such quiet certainty - that knowledge of your own reality and needs that were constantly being undercut by family/society in your growing. How much it spoke to me, and I will be reading it to my teenage daughter when she returns from school: we are trying so hard to use as little language as possible around her, other than to tell her we love her and to show interest in what interests her. So much language is poured over girls from the moment of birth until our last days: much of it nonsense at best, dangerous at worst. I'm so glad to know you've arrived - as I have - at a sense of self that is wholly your own. Thank you for sharing this piece. Tanya xx
Here is your link:
https://thecureforsleep.com/august-issue-sizeshape/#RowanAmbrose
Thank you so much for your support, Tanya. Raising awareness of differences and encouraging acceptance is a monumental task. Exhausting often, but always necessary. Your children are very lucky so have such wonderful parents.