when I wore dresses
I recently wrote a piece for Febulous February, a writers' blog celebrating Gay History Month; the theme was Letter to my Childhood Self: it took a few liberties with timelines, but
Dear Wednesday,
Good name! Don’t worry, it’s OK to style yourself after a
loveable freak; yes, you can choose what sort of weird you want to be. Own it.
Control it. Rejoice in it.
Don’t let anyone else choose your label. Choose your own, but remember you can
always change it. One day you’ll find more interesting labels, and people
attached to them who will become your friends.
Don’t worry about friends. They will come and go but the really good ones will stay and make your life more, better, in so many ways, and forever. There may be troubles ahead, but honestly you won’t ever be alone.
Don’t worry what people think, and Relax – you don’t need to try so hard not to fit in. You don’t fit in, because you are fabulously yourself. You don’t have to act it out. (But you can if you like, it’s fun)
Don’t worry about the mirror. No, you aren’t pretty. But you’re not ugly...and one day quite a few people will come to think of you as foxy, enigmatic, attractive, interesting and one glorious day, you’ll be singing in a band and discoing in your bra and...um...Don’t worry about s.e.x. It isn’t compulsory and you’ll figure it out and even (according to one or two instances of unsolicited feedback) be really quite good at it. Don’t worry about boys. They aren’t compulsory either.
Don’t worry about the family legends, they love you really, or the stupid people who mistake you for a boy; or maybe just pretend to, to be mean...you are an excellent girl. Never mind the mean girls who don’t understand you, it’s ok to be a bit brainy and interested in everything and refuse to choose a side, because all the sides are interesting. And one day people – including you - will be really proud of your brainy...
Don’t worry about God, or the Devil. They’re kind of like Santa, and you don’t have to keep believing in them. Some people do, but trust me, you’re going to find they get eclipsed by feminism, art and general curiosity. Just be kind...not because your inner nun is watching, but because it’s the right thing.
And don’t worry about dying. That funny lump was just glandular fever, and look, we’re still here, being weird, arty, fabulous...and happy.
With love, always, Fin x
Like most people (who do not have to worry about living in a warzone or in an unsafe abusive home, for example), I worried about all sorts of lesser things from spiders to periods, school dinners to the possibility of Hell. But, interestingly, the one thing I never seemed to worry about was my own future...I had no idea what it might hold but I knew I was going to be an artist. Whatever that means... although being the right sort of weird is definitely a factor. I think a life well lived includes the continous search to be better, more...not richer or importanter or included in more books about modern art...but better at art, at ideas, at finding solutions, and never quite satisfied with what you produce, because you can always see how it might develop next...