transformative teenage rebellion

My mom dropped me off at the restaurant, convinced I was just meeting with a study group. They were somewhat correct, just not the type of studying nor group my mom would approve of. My backpack did not contain books, but rather clothes, clothes my mom would scream at me if she knew I would be wearing in public, but this was not just anywhere in public. 

No, I knew this restaurant, this event, was safe, so I undressed in the single stall bathroom, taking care to zipper my skirt and button my blouse, applying makeup the way I had taught myself during those many lonely afternoons, and exited.

I had entered an ordinary-looking teenage boy and exited as a human in an outfit resembling pretty. Whether I was a pretty boy or girl, I was unsure, but I wrote out the name I wanted to try and she/her on the name tag just as an experiment. This entire evening was an experiment, a massive risk if mom showed up early to pick me up, but she was so often late that I was willing to take on that risk.

“Hey, uh, is this the rainbow dinner event?”

“Yes it is, Charity, welcome!” The short haired nonbinary adult at the long table in the corner motioned for me to sit, so I did. The name didn’t feel normal yet, a frisson of excitement running through me. “I’m Jay, they/them pronouns,” They continued. “I helped organize the event with Lily, who should be here shortly. Feel free to pour yourself some water, once more people show up we can order appetizers.” Appetizers sounded like a great idea, but first I poured myself some water and waited.

I was not the only teen who entered the bathroom one gender and exited appearing like another, although as far as I could tell, I was the only transgender feminine person. I wasn’t sure if I was a girl or some flavor of nonbinary, but every time she/her was used in reference to me I had the urge to grin. I usually gave into said urge, and soon I was joking and laughing with strangers like I had known them for years rather than hours.

“But, and you’ll never guess this, it worked! My dad actually believed a teenage girl might ask her boyfriend to buy her a bra for Valentine’s Day!”

“That’s a new level of clueless!”

“Nah, a new level of clueless was the fact my mom dropped me off here tonight! She thinks this dinner is the precursor to mock trial rehearsal.”

“Are you actually in mock trial?”

“Yeah, but we lost in the round of sixteen so practices are over for the year. Which is great because my parents are unaware of that little fact.”

“Be careful, Charity. I have makeup wipes in my wallet if you need any,” one teen, who was the type of nonbinary wherein they drew a fake goatee on themself in eyeliner pencil, offered me.

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. What time is it?”

“Almost eight!”

“Okay, in half an hour I’ll take you up on that offer, okay… what’s your name again?”

“Tyler.”

“Tyler. Sorry, I’m shit with names.”

“No problem.” I felt slightly embarrassed, although I knew I’d probably forget everyone’s names by the end of the night anyway, except maybe if any of my new friends put themselves in my phone like I suggested they do when that half hour passed and I had to change back to boymode.

 My mom asked me how it went, and I was able to gush about the new people, fobbing everyone off as "new freshman hopefuls for next year's team" and changing people's pronouns before creating an elaborate lie about the case book for next year. Luckily, next year I will be at university (or at least not in high school any longer) so none of the made up case will likely ever be mentioned again.

Still, after the car ride home, I text my new friends the lies I told mom in case they ever meet her. I assigned binary pronouns opposite the ones I could guess were the sex assigned at birth for the nonbinary friends I made, which made said friends happy. Or as happy as one can be while still being misgendered.

The time between meetings felt like it dragged on forever (pun intended). Indeed, the more often I was able to wear women's clothing, the more my typical teenage boy clothes felt like they were drag, like I was lying to everyone around me about who I was, but I had to. I told myself it was like I was a spy behind enemy lines, which made dealing with the usual locker room talk and other misogyny more bearable.

But, while my parents didn't notice a change, my school friends did. And one afternoon, my English teacher pulled me aside after class and wanted to know if everything was alright at home, or socially, since she had noticed I was participating less often. I was able to get away with saying that my parents had been watching the news late and it had been keeping me awake, so I'm somewhat sleep deprived, which was actually true, it just wasn't why I was speaking up less in class. Hearing my own voice reminded me of just how wrong everything felt.

Eventually another rainbow alliance event finally came around, this time a games night that occurred on a week night, which meant I could take the bus there and didn't have to lie, just tell my parents I was hanging out with friends, and would let them know if I ended up sleeping over.

Realistically, these rainbow alliance events were dangerous. The adult advisors were facilitating the education of minors against parents' knowledge, and not even through the school system the way my parents had wrongly assumed I had learned about transgenderism. No, if the wrong adults learned about this teenage group of misfits hanging out in a rented synagogue basement this time, we would be shut down entirely. Even teens whose parents were completely supportive kept their mouths shut about if someone else from school was attending here. In fact, in an unanticipated turn of events, one "girl" from my high school was new in attendance, and possibly not a girl (pronouns said they/them). They also appeared surprised to see me, and avoided addressing me by name, likely in an effort to avoid saying the wrong name, which I appreciated. They still went by their birth name here, so that wasn't a problem for me.