Let me describe what I like to call the "skirt trick".
An author named Ami Polonsky wrote a Young Adults book titled Gracefully Grayson about a tween-aged boy who, in essence, is one of the girls. To illustrate and convey to us, the readers, that Grayson is like this, she describes how the character wears an overly-long nightshirt and spins in it and imagines that it's a skirt or a dress and wishing for the opportunity to wear a real one.
Just this spring, Jacob Tobia came out with Sissy, a book that mine will probably be compared to quite a bit, since Sissy is the first real genderqueer coming-out / coming-of-age story. Jacob, too, presents the fact that despite being male they were "one of the girls" by recounting how they would dress in their mom's clothes and put on her makeup in secret and wish they could go forth into the world adorned that way.
The problem with using the skirt trick is that whatever the heck it may mean to "be a girl" or to "be feminine", it doesn't mean your brain is somehow hardwired to make you want to wear a skirt (or high heels or put on makeup, etc). Trust me, there is no shortage of cisgender women who have never had the faintest interest in adorning themselves in ankle-torturing high-heeled devices, Revlon and Avon gels and creams and powders, or nylon hosiery, and considerably more who don’t necessary hate the stuff but resent having it imposed on them as part of gender-specific “office standards”. Skirts and dresses blow up in the breeze and threaten to show your underpants to the world, often lack sufficient pockets for your keys and wallet and lip balm, and catch on the velvet ropes when you try to step over them at the bank instead of zigzagging your way back and forth down empty lanes during non-busy banking hours – and many women recall, unfondly, having them imposed at a young age and finding them a hindrance to riding bikes and climbing trees *.
But if you try to write a book where you're introducing a character and stating "this person is male but how he is, who he is, the way he is, is more like one of the girls than it's like the other boys", you’re expected to show, not tell, your reading audience that this is true; but no matter what specific behavior you describe, no matter what thinking processes you reveal your character engaging in, you run the significant risk of people saying “Aww, c’mon, that doesn’t make this fellow a girl, I’m not like that, my daughter is not like that” or “How does that make this dude any different from me and a million other guys, lots of boys have feelings like that”.
There is no single behavior that all the girls engage in and none of the other boys do; and if there was, then our main character could not be engaging in it, by definition, unless he was absolutely the only one like that, in which case his story would be the story of an anomaly, not a representative story that explains what it's like to be one of those boys who is essentially a girl despite being male. To complicate matters, the female population has among them some gender-variant individuals too, whose existence dilutes the universality of what girls do and what girls are like. So on the one hand the author needs to show the reader that this character is basically a girl, but on the other, there's no obvious and compelling way to do that.
The difficulty of navigating that complexity and still bringing the reader along, accepting and not contradicting my premise, is a challenge that makes me grudgingly appreciate the skirt trick. But my tale is a memoir, a work of nonfiction, and I did not, in fact, spend my childhood and teenage years donning dresses and skirts and stockings and lace, or applying cosmetics to my face.
There is no single vegetable, meat, or spice that all by itself makes a dish a part of Italian cuisine or Mexican or German or Indian. But I still know the difference between them. I recognize it when I taste it, when I smell it. There’s no single note, chord, or chord progression that is unique to Baroque music, but it sounds a certain way, has a certain feel to it. I think gender is like that, too – we grew up in a social backdrop and absorbed the component notions of it. To borrow the famous aphorism of Justice Potter Stewart, we know it when we see it. People also know when they don’t see what they expect to encounter, which is why outliers, gender-variant exceptions, are so often noticeable to other people and not just aware of it themselves. I didn’t have to wear a sign that said I was a sissy femme in order for the kids in eighth grade to start calling me out for it.
In my book, I’m trying to put a feast of samples in front of the reader, little vignettes and selected events, some mental processes and interior dialogs that I recall, some choices that I made, some behaviors and whatnot. The book has a blatant title and it has an explicit three-page flyover of my early childhood, both of which promise the reader that this book is going to feature a genderqueer person, specifically a boy who is basically one of the girls. But once the book gets started, I’m depending on the reader to react to the samples provided and to reach their own realizations without me pointing to each occurrence and saying “See? See? A conventional boy would not have done that. See? Just like a girl would have!” None of the individual scenes or events is definitive in and of itself, and I don’t lay down any definitions to start with (to the annoyance of at least a couple potential publishers, who insisted that readers are as dumb as a box of rocks and need that).
Ultimately, to make this work, I have to rely on the readers’ independent perception. I’m not going to be able to argue them into seeing it. The experiences are going to have to speak for themselves.
But I’m confident that I’m a pretty damn good cook and that I've prepared some evocative morsels.
* Skirts are so much more comfortable than pants on a humid or hot day, there's something fun about the way they swish around when you move, and you can find them with usable pockets and with belt loops as well. And they take up less room in your suitcase than pants. And unlike pants they don't chafe or bind on you when you're sitting down. Also, they're great if you have nice legs and consider them among your best features and don't want to keep them covered up all the time.
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