Bodies are Awesome. All the bodies. All the sizes. All the shapes. All the abilities.

Sometimes when I’m teaching Awesomely Awkward, my puberty education series, a young person will say that there’s something wrong with their/someone’s body. It’s too fat/thin/tall/busty/flat/short… all the things young people have been taught (already!) about what society says bodies are supposed to be like.  I thank them for saying that, because “oh my gosh, people say stuff like that all the time, right!? And now that someone’s said it, we can talk about this! Yay!  I love this part!” And I whip out these photos of Olympic and Paralympic athletes. In class, I have many versions of them both on projector and printed on card stock they can hold in their hands and look at. When I pass them out, they know that I really do love this part.

image credit Howard Schatz. Click for larger image. Learn more about his work and buy the amazing book here https://howardschatz.com/books/athlete/
This image is of eight paralympians. They are posed in a way that is confident and strong.
credit: http://disabilityhorizons.com/2012/08/paralympic-games-2012-disability-horizons-definitive-guide/

I tell the young people to “find a body that might have been similar in some ways to yours when they were your age. Don’t tell us which one you’re thinking of. Imagine what that person’s body was like when they were your age. Remember, puberty is only maybe starting to happen.” I tell them, “just think quietly inside your head right now.”  [If there is someone in the class with low-vision or who is blind, I ask the children to describe the photos in detail, and I supplement their descriptions to fully demonstrate the entire spectrum of bodies displayed and substitute accurate and appropriate language when needed.]

Then I ask these questions:

  • Now think about all of these bodies when they were your age. What do you think people said to them?  About them?
  • What do you imagine that felt like? Why do you think that’s what it feels like?
  • What would it take for them to decide to be strong in their body, maybe even to be an athlete?  What kind of thinking would they need to do?
  • What kind of friends would they need around them when they were 11 and they wanted to do something strong with their body?  What would those friends say?  How would those friends behave?
  • Would what the friends said and how they acted be any different if these people, when they were 11 or 12, had bodies that weren’t ever going to be world class athletes, but they still wanted to do something strong and brave with their bodies?  What would be the same? What would be different?
  • What kind of friend are you?  How can you be that kind of friend for each other, the kind that says encouraging things about bravery and strength, and doesn’t talk about whether a body is good or not?

Bodies are awesome. Everyone should get one.  Oh, wait.

That’s my favorite line I ever made up ever.

All bodies can’t do all the things. Some bodies move easily, some bodies move slowly or with discomfort and pain or in directions that weren’t intended, but all bodies can experience pleasure and can do something strong and brave.  Our job as good grownups is to support young people to find out the ways their body is strong and brave. 

Perhaps your child is not in my class. You can do this with children in your life. Look through these pictures and talk about all the different types of bodies that athletes have, how different they are, what people might have told them about their bodies when they were your child’s age, how powerful they all are. All of them. Give your children an image of something different from what the media gives them. These are real people with really strong bodies that all appear and move differently.  Obviously we aren’t all world-class athletes. Almost all of us are not world-class athletes, I’m certainly not. But we all have bodies, and we all live in a world that assesses our worth by what our bodies look like based on a bogus standard of body that doesn’t actually exist. (I’ll talk about body image and air brushing photos in another blog post another time.)

And when your child is 5 or 8 or 13 and says their body is wrong because it’s too skinny/too fat/too tall/too short/too disabled, haul these photos out and remember with them that bodies are awesome.  All the bodies are all the awesome, and we don’t know when we’re 5 or 8 or 13 what amazing things our bodies will learn to do as we grow.

Welcome to my blog

I thought about giving this post a witty title, but decided to go old school.

This is a test of the emergency omg I have to write a blog now system.

If this were a true emergency, I would likely be saying things like, “pump your brakes” or “fill your tub with water just in case,” or “take a couple of things out of the freezer then shut it tight till the electricity comes back on.”

But it isn’t.  It’s a test.

The most fun so far (by which I mean not fun at all) is that I can’t find this page when I look for it.  I mean, I see it here right now as I type “A New Post” but when I hit publish, I can’t find it.  Kind of like sex education, if you think about it.  What we learn in a nice linear fashion, with bells, whistles, jokes, asides, pictures, graphs, and demonstration materials becomes just so much blahblahblah when we get up close and personal with someone for the first time.  We can’t find the page.  We can’t remember where we put the protection.  We struggle to remember that consent is ongoing, and that means being able to find the page again and again and again and make sure our partner is on the same one.

Weak metaphor or no?

It’s what I’ve got.

Welcome to my blog, welcome to my brain.

Back in the Day

Remember back in the day when I used a whole lot of words to try to describe my gender?

“I’m a masculine-of-center womanish type person,” or “I’m a tomboy farm girl.”
Or “When I was a kid, if tomboy were a gender, it would’ve been mine.”

Finally, “I’m a butch queer tomboyfarmgirl masculine-of-center womanish-type person.”
It took an awful lot of words to describe my sense of self.

When I was a kid on our stony farm in the Adirondacks, I only knew about two genders, girl, and boy.
And I had two choices within girl—girl or failed girl, just as with boy there was boy or failed boy.

Where I lived, they called a failed girl a tomboy, and they called a failed boy a sissy.

In the 40 years since, we have developed better understanding, knowledge, and language, and I am empowered to choose the language that works for me and decide what it means.

I’m genderqueer.
It’s one of many words that mean a non-binary gender, a gender that does not fall into the Western cultural idea of man and woman as opposites.

It’s trans, meaning across the gender people expect me to have as a person in a body called female.

Sometimes I use non-binary, sometimes trans.
Language is not something that is fixed and solid like a rock. Language grows and flows with branches and leaves interacting with wind and rain, moving and turning toward the light.

This isn’t new, that language changes.
We don’t say “thee” anymore or call women fizgigs or damsels, maids, or strumpets.
It is simply that this particular change is new to many of us.

Maybe in a few years, there will be another word for my gender that is even better. I look forward to finding out.

People get to grow and change; we believe in the power of naming ourselves, claiming our identity.
You do, I do, everyone does.

Sometimes how society defines “the norm” fits, and you can claim it — not imposed but chosen.
You then can use language to better name yourself.

We all have the right to self-definition.

You also decide how to articulate your identity.

You can be a cisgender feminine-of-center woman, or a cisgender masculine-of-center woman, and understand yourself as woman.
You can be a cisgender man who is feminine-of-center, or a masculine of center cisgender man moving through your life as different types of men.

There are lots of types of men and women, and many ways to express masculinity and femininity in men and women.

And you have every right to decide what word describes your gender.
You can use man or woman, or, like others of us, decide that just specifying what kind of man or woman still isn’t quite right. It’s not accurate enough.

We are something else, something in a different place on that binary of man and woman, or outside that binary entirely, or we move around fluidly and dance with a constellation of genders.

We all have the right to be whoever we are, and we have the right to find and create language to describe ourselves. Language is created to describe something that we experienced.

The experience comes first; then, we cast about for words to name ourselves, to translate our experience to others, to invite them to authentic connection.

I invite you to recognize that this isn’t simply a story about me. It’s an invitation to you. You do not have to be defined by who you used to be, not by who others thought you were, nor who you thought you were.

You are free.

This concept of gender as something that isn’t fixed and absolute may seem strange and new to you, especially if your experience of your gender is consistent with what society suggests it should be.

Gender is not the same as things that are fixed and measurable.
It’s not the same as sex, rooted in biology and bits of bodies, and x’s and y’s in a dozen combinations, despite what we were taught.

Gender is our individual understanding of who we are.

Welcome to this new world and new language, my people. We all get to be specific about who we are. Tell me who you are so I can greet and bear witness to you properly.

Welcome to all the possibilities.

My name is CB. My pronouns are they, them, and theirs.

If you say “she” while you are learning, simply notice, apologize, correct yourself, and move on.
Then maybe practice a little at home. You’ll get better.

[This is adapted from the text of a small video project, c. CB 2017, and uploaded on request and for ease of access today, 10/28/26.]