Are You a Boy or a Girl?

I'd be willing to bet that every single one of you can empathize with the following statement (and those of you who say you don't probably aren't telling the truth) ... for as far back as I can remember, there was at least one thing I didn't like about my body. Quite possibly one of those universally true statements, right? I could list so many things about my body I haven't liked down through the years ... but there's this one in particular, one that I truly hated and despised and was extremely self-conscious about. My neck used to be covered in dangly, ugly mole things called skin tags. No, really ... once the doctor removed 76 of them during one visit ... ummm, yep, that wasn't much fun. For years, I would go to the doctor and endure the pain of her snipping off the gross little pieces of skin, but they would always return and in even greater numbers than were there before. At least they did until I was diagnosed with diabetes a few years ago and got my blood sugar under control. I guess those pesky, ugly skin tags had a lot to do with the high levels of sugar in my body. The last time I had them removed was ... well ... it was the last time I had to have them removed because they never returned.

Now I'm sure you're wondering why in the world I would begin a post talking about the plethora of moles that used to be on my neck ... that's sort of a gross way to open an entry to my blog. Well, here's the thing ... people used to stare at the moles on my neck when they talked to me because they were ugly ... people used to tell me I needed to have them removed because they were ugly ... little kids used to say, "What are those things all over your neck?" And every single time someone stared or said something or questioned me about the skin tags, it hurt my feelings and made me even more self-conscious about them ... every single time. I remember one little boy on Matt's baseball team who was obsessed with the fact that my neck didn't look like other necks and if I had a nickel for every time that kid asked me if I had a disease or what was wrong with my neck, I'd be mega rich today.

There's been a video circulating on Facebook and other media channels for the last few days ... a video that a whole lot of people have forwarded to me along with a note telling me I needed to watch it. The clip is from a TED Talks presentation, and the speaker, Ash Beckham, is gay. She's got a great message about how we all have closets of some sort we hide in (it's not just gay folks who try to hide parts of who they are ... imagine that, eh?) and how living in any kind of closet is no way to live. But the part of the video that people seem to have latched onto is when she talks about how many times little kids ask her if she's a boy or a girl. She relates how angry that used to make her ... until one day she really saw the 4-year-old little girl who asked, "Are you a boy or a girl?" When she was able to see the child as just a kid ... a kid like every other kid ... her anger was replaced with patience and kindness and understanding.

To say that I can relate to so many things Ms. Beckham says in her speech would be an enormous understatement. I can relate to what she says about having hard conversations ... I've had more than a few of those over the last year or so of my life. I can relate to what she says about how some of those hard conversations ended up not being so hard after all. I can relate to what she says about being angry and remaining silent while I am really seething inside. I can relate to what she says about feeling safe in whatever closet you live in and how terrifyingly hard it is to open the door and take those first tentative steps out. I can relate to what she says about how keeping the truth about yourself a secret ... whether that truth is that you are bankrupt or you have cancer or you are divorcing your child's father or mother or that you are gay ... affects every part of both your mind and your body. And I can completely relate to the following poignant words from Ms. Beckham's speech ... "I was frozen by fear, curled up in the corner of my pitch-black closet clutching my gay grenade ... and moving one muscle was the scariest thing I've ever done."

I'm sure it wasn't random coincidence that the very next day after I watched Ms. Beckham's speech, something happened that made me acknowledge the hurt and anger I feel when the "boy or girl?" question is asked of me. Ollie and I had been for a long walk, and we were almost to my driveway when a little boy across the street hollered and asked if he and his friend could pet my dog. I saw his dad was working in their yard so I said, "Sure, but don't get in the street ... we'll come over there." I lifted my tired panting wiener dog into my arms and walked over and knelt down in front of the two little boys and told them Ollie's name. Without missing a beat, one of the boys said, "I thought you were a boy. You always wear a ball cap when you cut your grass and walk this Ollie and you have short hair. Are you a boy or a girl?" I took off my sunglasses and looked into the innocent blue eyes of the little boy and said, "I'm a girl, buddy ... I'm a girl who likes to wear ball caps." Again without missing a beat, the cute little guy with the curly blonde hair and pretty blue eyes said, "Oh. Is Ollie a wiener dog?" And in that moment I knew why all those people had sent me the video of Ms. Beckham's speech. They sent me the video because I needed to hear the truth contained within her words ... "We all have our own closets, and a closet is no place for anyone to live."

So to all the people who mistake me for a boy when I'm in line at Walmart wearing a ball cap and a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big ... or the lady who thought she was in the wrong restroom when she walked in and I was straightening my suspenders ... or the little kids who watch me mow my yard and walk my dog ... or all the other folks I've encountered over the years ... I'm a girl ... a girl who likes ball caps and Converse shoes and suspenders and button-down collared shirts and overalls and flannel shirts and cowboy boots. I love my short, spiky hair and I'd rather eat dog poop than wear a dress. But so much more ... so very much more ... I'm a girl who loves God and who knows that He loves me back. I'm a girl who loves her children and her granddaughter and her family and her friends and her dogs more than any of them will ever fully understand. I'm a girl who is loyal and dedicated and trustworthy and kind and compassionate and forgiving and gentle ... at least that's the girl I hope I am anyway. And that's the girl I hope I will always be.