My mother wanted a girl since her firstborn was a boy and then...she had me. I was born in nineteen seventy-nine, you do the math, in Uruguay or as I would pronounce it "YOU'RE A GAY", when a doctor pulled me from my mother's womb and gave me to the nurse to clean me up without telling my mother if I was a boy or a girl. The family anxiously waited outside in the waiting room for one of the lights to light up labeling my sex; blue for boy and red for girl. That was the system back then. The nurse was taking forever in my mother's eyes and so my mother grew inpatient and demanded to know from the doctor if she've just had the daughter she always dreamed of. Obligated the doctor broke the news to her; "it's a boy." She took me in her arms and held me close and even though I wasn't what she truely wanted I was still her offspring and worthy of her love.
She raised me and my brother alike giving me everything he had and more, I would even wear the same clothes as he when he had out grown them. Sometimes she would get us matching ensembles even though we are three years apart, but somehow I always looked more fragile and delicate than he in them. My brother was into sports especially soccer, and me well, I was into Barbies and She-Ra. Mom would tell the story of my birth to family and friends and also about her desire to have a beautiful girl but how even though she hadn't gotten what she wanted she'd explain that I filled her life with joy.
Full essay in Trans-cending Zine Vol #1 Boy/Girl