When I was in second grade we learned what the word "Occupation" was. My teacher, Miss Hart, went around the classroom and asked each of us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Everyone before me gave the typical 2nd grade answers, teacher, doctor, laywer, etc. When it was my turn, I said I wanted to be a boy. Miss Hart called me into the hallway after class and told me I couldn't be a boy when I grew up. I shrugged it off pretending I was joking and made up another occupation that I "really" wanted to be.
In the film, Petra is sent away to a camp to change who she is. I was never "sent away" physically, but in a lot of ways I experienced an emotional equivalent to her experience.
When I was little, I loved Boy George and told my aunt I was going to marry him someday. She made a face. Then I said I'll wear the tux and he can wear the dress.
For most of my early child hood, I dressed like a boy--and often didn't wear a shirt, like boys do. One of these times, my aunt pulled me aside and gave me a lecture about how girls should dress. She said I'm a girl and I have to start wearing a shirt, what would I think if she or my mom didn't wear shirts. The idea seemed really disturbing to me, but I didn't think of myself like them so it seemed irrelevant.
My older sister and I would constantly fight when we were growing up. She'd tried to continually force me to wear girl clothes, to style my hair, to wear make-up... anything. She'd even on occasion tackle me down and force the girly products on me.
On one such occasion, our cousin was visiting, my sister had convinced me to play a game when I pretend to be one of my sister's friends. I liked playing games, so I went along with it. My sister dressed me in her clothes, styled my hair, and caked me with make-up. When my cousin arrived, she played along. But I knew after a few minutes, that she wasn't fooled. But I played along as they did. Once the game seemed to wear off, I was stuck dressed looking like my sister... and I started to physically feel sick. I didn't want to wear this mask, I needed to be in my own clothes, to be myself. So I changed back into me, taking off my sister's clothes and make-up. I could tell my sister was disappointed that her "experiment" didn't seem to work permenantly on me. I would never be the sister she'd want me to be.
As I got older, her prompts and pushiness, seemed to have its toll on me. I was going through puberty and could no longer be the boy I wanted to be... not with the bras and other "wonderful" things that go along with being a teenage girl. By the end of 4th grade, I had to quit playing football because catching the ball hurt too much.. plus at school the other kids started noticing I was changing. I was an early developer. The boys in my class seemed to think I was their personal petting toy. They'd grab at me--pinch my butt, grab my breasts. I started fighting back by 6th grade. When a classmate pretended to be reaching for a pencil he dropped, he would "accidently" reach over and grab my breast. I grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him against the wall and told him never to touch me again.
Through all of this my mom seemed the most understanding. I never felt she wanted me to be anyone other than who I was. She'd tell me no one had a right to touch me if I didn't want them too and encouraged me to "fight" back if need be.
My dad also seemed to enjoy having a tomboy for a daughter. I have three brothers, but somehow I always felt like my dad's favorite son. He and I would do chores together, he'd buy me ice cream cones, GI Joes, and comic books. None of my other siblings got this special dad time. I think its because I was the most like my dad. My brothers didn't like to do chores, they didn't play with action figures, they weren't typical rough and rowdy boys. But I was. My dad even told me years ago that I was the best son he ever had.
At some point in junior high, I seemed to give in to fate. My body was betraying me. I really wasn't the boy I always felt I was. I started to grow my hair long and wore my sister's hand-me-downs. I would even on occasion wear make-up. This continued into High School, I tried being the girl everyone wanted me to be...
The brainwashing worked.
In college I went through a long difficult struggle of coming out. I was in deep catholic-guilt denial and had loads of depression and anxiety. I was confused, I didn't want to be a boy anymore, I liked being a woman, but why was I attracted to girls? It didn't make sense to me. I tried to make myself like boys... but by my junior year in college, I realized that just isn't who I am. I'm not the girl everyone wants me to be. I'm not going to marry the perfect guy and start popping out babies. I'm just me. I started to accept myself... I knew who I was... and I felt like the kid in me--the Tomboy--had come back after being hidden for years...
And so while the story of Petra and Camp Conformity isn't a literal retelling of my childhood, it is an emotional/psychological one.
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