As a Gen-Z kid, I grew up watching Disney princess films, and what I saw were princesses with tiny waists that could fit between their eyes, and beautiful voices, and princes to love. So I thought that’s how I’d have to live one day. I would have to have a tiny waist, a beautiful voice, and a man—otherwise my life would be meaningless. I wouldn’t have a happy ending like other girls.
I wanted to be a princess, but more than that I wanted to be a mom. If I didn’t get to be a mom, I wouldn’t get to have my “ending.” The confusing part about this was that I had never met any boys who were worthy.
In middle school, I would watch other girls tie up their hair in ponytails, gazing for minutes on end until they finished, wondering how they made themselves so perfect, wondering how they were so beautiful. I thought this must have been “natural” (it never occurred to me I wasn’t straight), because women were supposed to care for each other.