As early as six, I began to emulate the essance of a boy trying to mimick my brother standing to pee; failing miserably. At twelve, an older neighborhood boy tried to rape me; all I knew, at this point, was no man would ever control me. Continuing in my tom-boy ways, my mother was appalled. The year that followed, puberty struck, remaining to be the most tragic day of my life. However, my athletic ability was revealed that summer during a softball game when I heard, “You should be playing on the other field with the boys!” My naked reflection in the mirror became problematic. My male alter-ego emerged. I bound my chest, changed my name, and headed to Southern California. I didn’t hate life or who I was, only what I was. This was just the begining, so hold on tight.