Tomboy for life here. So many stories of my tomboy girlhood. Climbing trees in the park. Playing football in the street with the neighborhood boys. They said I couldn’t play with them because I was a girl, then I could play if I could beat one of them, so I did and they had to let me play. The time a family friend gave some “steelies” (steel marbles, actually ball bearings. They were highly valued in my childhood) to my brothers and not me…I cried. I still want those steelies. Summer after third grade I said I was going to come back to school as a boy–but I didn’t. I thought boys had all the fun and adventures. Thing were basically o.k. till the horrible puberty, when I realized I was a freak. That was a rough time of just feeling that I wasn’t what I was supposed to be. It got much easier after I came out.
My stories of being a tomboy aren’t anything like the ones you have on here. I don’t ever recall being called nasty things for it, and I’ve been that way my whole life pretty much, for as long as I can remember. I love trucks and tractors and dinosaurs. The only bad thing about it, is that my mom says that I’m gay because things like trucks and hockey, and the things my grandparents let me do, and the things she let me enjoy. My mom says I wasn’t born this way, I was made this way by other people, and all the bad things people have done to me. I was born this way and I know it.