they/them used as a anonymouszation.
i don’t even know where to start. coming out? figuring myself out? like is that even possible? i’ve been dancing around this for years, hiding behind a bunch of labels i thought would make it easier to understand myself, but it never worked. it’s like walking around with a fogged-up mirror and trying to see something you can’t even describe.
so, here we are. femboy. that’s what i’ve been calling myself lately. or what others have been calling me, depending on the day. i don't really know if it fits all the way, but it’s the closest thing that doesn’t feel like i’m suffocating under everything else.
people have a lot of opinions about it. about me. about what it *means* to be a femboy, or anything that isn’t just… “normal,” whatever that is. it’s exhausting. i feel like i’m constantly navigating this tightrope between what *i* feel comfortable with and what others think is okay for me. one wrong move, and i’ll fall into their judgment, which always feels like it’s waiting just below the surface.
like, i get it. it’s confusing. people expect me to either be all manly or all feminine, and here i am, existing somewhere in between, and nobody knows how to handle that. not even me. i still can’t figure out if i’m supposed to be “more” of one or the other, or if that even matters.
sometimes, it feels like the more i lean into this “femboy” label, the more i’m stuck in this weird in-between space that no one really gets. people on one side call me “too feminine” for their tastes, and the other side just sees me as some “try-hard” who’s barely scratching the surface of what they think a real man is. i’m not *trying* to be anything, though. i’m just… here. i’m just *me*.
i think it’s easier to put on a face. like, if i act a certain way, maybe people will finally get it. or maybe i’ll get it myself. but every time i feel like i’m inching closer to understanding, it slips away. some days i feel like i’m just *pretending* to be okay with it, like it’s a costume that’s too tight but i’m stuck wearing it anyway.
i don’t even know what to say about sexuality anymore. it’s all so *fluid*—or at least, it feels like it should be. some days i think i like women, some days i think i don’t care, some days i think i’m somewhere in between. i guess i’m just figuring it out, but that doesn’t make the discomfort of feeling like i’m always *not enough* go away.
it’s strange because sexuality feels like a path i’m supposed to walk down, but it’s always shifting beneath me. i used to think there were only two roads: straight or gay. but now i’m in this messy intersection where neither feels right, but both feel like part of me. i don’t know if that makes sense to anyone else, but i think it’s the best way to describe it.
i hate how much space people take up when they talk about it, too. the unsolicited advice. the lectures about how i “should” be living my truth. as if *they* know anything about it. like i didn’t already hear every single possible version of what i’m supposed to be from a hundred different voices.
and, the worst part? i’m afraid i’ll never be *enough* for myself either. like, okay, so i’ve given this label to myself, but does that mean i’ve finally figured it out? does that mean i’m right? do i even know what "right" feels like? some days, i’m scared i’m just making it up as i go along, and that scares me more than anything.
i’m still figuring out what it means to be “a femboy.” does it mean wearing certain clothes? acting a certain way? or is it just about how i feel in my own skin? i’ve spent so much time looking outside of myself for answers, trying to find the right words, the right actions, the right label that will make sense of all of this. but the more i look, the more i realize it’s never going to make sense to anyone else as much as it makes sense to me.
i’ve tried to talk about it with people. i’ve tried to explain myself. but it always feels like i’m talking to a wall. like, yeah, i’ll say the words, but no one really *gets it.* i’ll say i’m a femboy, or bisexual, or whatever it is, and the response i get is always… a little off. like people are hearing the words but not really listening. i guess i’m still not sure if i’m even *listening* to myself.
sometimes, i think maybe i’m the one who’s not getting it. maybe i’m just confused. maybe i’m forcing this label on myself to feel like i belong somewhere, but i don’t think that’s it. i think i’m just trying to feel *right*. i’m just trying to feel like i’m being *me*.
i know people will try to tell me it’s okay to be confused. it’s okay to take time. but what if that just means i’ll be *stuck* in this confusion forever? what if there’s no answer at all?
but i think maybe that’s the point. maybe there’s no clear answer, and maybe i don’t have to know right now. i’ve spent so much of my life trying to be what other people want, trying to fit into boxes i never belonged in. but maybe, just maybe, the way i feel is enough. maybe i don’t need anyone else’s approval, especially when i don’t even fully approve of myself half the time.
maybe that’s the hardest part of all this: learning to be okay with not having it figured out. i’m always expected to have the answers, always expected to know who i am, what i want, and where i fit into the world. but the truth is, i don’t know. and maybe that’s fine. maybe figuring it out, piece by piece, day by day, is the only way it’s ever going to make sense.
i’ve spent a lot of time trying to get validation from others, hoping they’ll tell me it’s okay to be the way i am. but it’s never enough. the outside world is full of so many conflicting opinions, and no matter what i choose, there’s always someone who’s going to say it’s wrong. i think i’ve been afraid of that for too long. but now? i’m starting to think that maybe *my* truth is the only one that matters.
sometimes it’s lonely. like, really lonely. when i think about it, most of the world doesn’t understand what it’s like to be neither one nor the other. to float in this messy space between expectations, between genders, between labels that don’t fit right. but it’s a weird kind of solitude. one that feels like it’s mine to hold, not necessarily bad or good, just *mine.*
i think part of me is scared that one day, i’ll stop being “a femboy,” or that label will feel too small, or too big, or just not enough. but for now, it’s the word that holds all the things i can’t say. for now, it feels like the one thing that feels *right* even when nothing else does.
i’m trying to learn to be kind to myself through all this. to let go of the shame i’ve carried around, the shame that says i’m too much, or not enough, or just too *complicated* to be understood. maybe i’ll never fully understand myself, and maybe that’s okay too.
this is all a process, right? maybe i’ll get there eventually. maybe i won’t. i just want to be okay with *this*. with whatever *this* is.
anyway, if you’re still reading, thanks for listening. even if it’s just to an anonymous page on a screen. it means something.
i don’t have answers. i just know i’m here. still trying to figure it out.