Reflecting on my Reflection
I honestly felt jealous of all the changelings who attacked Canterlot. Their abilities....to be able to change themselves, and assume any form they wanted, male or female....I’d give everything I have to have the same ability.
Not that their life is all that great, they feed on love, and their mentality is tied to one hive mind. That would be problematic for me, at least, I think so.
I really tend to keep this a secret, and having everyone able to hear my thoughts....well that would bring out many questions, questions that I’m not sure I could answer. Like, for example, why do I refer to myself as a “he”, if I was born a “she”?
I’m really not too sure when the thought that I wasn’t exactly what my outer body showed, started to come trough to me. If I had to be honest, I guess I’ve always felt that way. Kind of. I knew what I was supposed to do, and what I was supposed to be like, and I did my best to accommodate what was expected of me, that is, be a typical damsel, a mare, a girl, with what I felt inside me....which wasn’t all to feminine to begin with.
I felt guilty. Purely guilty. I was afraid that if someone, anyone, discovered how I felt, I’d be mocked. And the sad fact is, at the time, I would even have laughed along, because, what I was inside was not what I was on the outside, and that was freakish, strange, not normal, isn’t that right? I didn’t feel like I deserved to walk around all those other “Common” ponies.
That was bogus. I know, it was a dumb thing I told myself, because I felt that I wasn’t normal. And maybe I still ain’t normal, and I will never be. It depends on the definition of normal that I want to follow. I guess that if I take normal to mean, a cisgender , straight, pony, I’m not normal.
I mean, not that that should affect me all too much, I think. I’ve heard the most awful and hurtful things directed at people who are non conformant with what society expects of them. It doesn’t matter if their sexuality, gender, or mental health is different, they get pushed around, and bullied into at least pretending they are normal. It took me longer than I hoped it would to start deflecting those things around, instead of thinking that they all applied to me, and that I was an abomination that would end up in Tartarus. I think I developed a thick skin, after a while. Nowadays I can hear all those things, and they barely affect me. I no longer have to hide my tears, or pretend they are there because I got something in my eye. Those words? They just buzz in my ears, and slightly prick at my brain.
It saddens me that it was from my own family that some of those hateful words were spewing, I mean, I love them and everything. And I wouldn’t pick anyone else, even if I could. Which I can’t. But it seems all the stereotypes about us folks are true.
I thought for a long time that It was a happy thing that my father and mother were dead, that way, if anyone ever discovered what I was, they wouldn’t get disappointed. That was the extent of how inadequate I felt with the true me.
But every bubble has to pop, and I can’t hide who I am, truly, anymore. I hear those awful, sad, terrifying statistics about how people like me, people who don’t identify with the sex they were born with, have several more suicides , and murders, a year. And that scares me, it really does, but I am an adult now. And long has gone since the times I, as a little colt....or filly, for anyone else, would avoid something I wanted to do because I was scared. And this isn’t just something I want to do....I think it’s something I really need to do.
I am an awful liar; I am really bad at pretending. That is probably why I am so honest. But In actuality I was never honest, even if it seemed like I was. Because there was this one thing I never revealed to the world.
And as I ponder how to break it up to everyone, should I just go on with it, and announce it, should I tell them one by one? Should I be going slow by surveying the field, even If I do have an idea of how my family will react? I try to guess what everyone will say, and how long it will take for them to do the mental switch, that is required. I imagine that, if they agree, they might still slip and call me a “her” once or twice.
The thing was, I hope this explains to them, even if slightly, some of my quirks, the reason I so strongly dislike Rarity and her feminine traits? Not because I am in love with her, and her feminine ways reminds me of my stature as a lesbian, but because , well, I guess I imprinted my hatred of all things feminine about me, on her. How dare she act like a true to life vapid Canterlot lady?
It was pettiness, and I will admit that, but, still, I hope she will see me in a whole new way, and everyone else too.
Because throughout my whole life I’ve been rejecting myself, and, when I finally did accept myself, I was much too afraid to act on what I am, and switch. This has been a long time coming. And I will never pass for the perfect mare my family wants to be, but in all honesty, I am glad that is the case. I don’t enjoy hurting my family, by breaking what they expect for me, but the time for hiding who I am, inside, and hopefully outside, has passed.
It’s time for, the very first time, me being able to stare myself in a mirror, and say to myself, that I am, finally, the true me.
Author's Note
Written while listening to "Reflection" of the Disney movie "Mulan"
I hope you enjoyed it!
