"And I happen to be a woman."
"What", said the provost, "brought you to that conclusion?"
"I explained to him how, from childhood, I never felt nor could really identify as male. That I only identified with the other girls in school and in my neighbourhood growing up. That I had to struggle and fake being a boy, and of how difficult and unforgiving this was growing up in a small redneck town. Of what a farce marriage and fatherhood were, especially given that had I the option, I would have very happily carried each of my three sons to term nside my own body, given birth, and nursed them from my own breasts.
He asked me if I was homosexual and that was when I completely lost it. I roared in his wizened face that sexual orientation had nothing to do with my gender identity, and that otherwise not to expect me to dignify with a reply so ridiculous and puerile a question. Then he became particularly angry, his face turning such a deep shade of heirloom tomato red that I was afraid he might drop dead of a stroke right there in the office with me.
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