“One Time, One Daybetween Davie and Roberta ,I asked my mom why she persisted,kept on having baby after baby, She lookedat me, at a spot between my eyes,blinking like I had suddenly fallencrazy. She paused before answering as ifto confide would legitimize my fears.She drew a deep breath, leaned againstthe chair. I touched her hand and I thought she mightcry. Instead she put baby Davie in my armsPattyn, she said, it's a woman's role.I decided if it was my role, I'd rather disappear.”

“I take four or five heavy steps beyond the front door and Mom comes rushing down the hallway. "Shane! What in the hell-" Now she sees me, in all my dignified glory. I tell her I'm fine. Swear I stuck up for my sister, not an alien but an angel. By the time I get to, "I think I might need stitches," Mom is my mommy. She may have forgotten my birthday. But today she remembers me.”

“I do have friends, but they don't know me, only someone I've created to take my place. Someone sculpted from ice. I keep the melted me bottled up inside. Where no one can touch her, until, unbidden, she comes pouring out.”

“I told her about the man, not my daddy, she said, He was only making you into a real girl. I didn’t understand. But I made myself believe her. I was a real girl now. But what was I before?”

“I can see why she feels left behind. Maybe even discarded. Is that why she refuses to accept my love and return it? Afraid that love doesn't last? Doesn't really exist? Afraid if her own father can withdraw his love (or at least the manifestation of his love), that maybe she somehow isn't worthy of the emotion?”

“I felt angry,frustrated.I felt I didn't belong, not in mychurch, not in my home, notin my skin.Amidst the chaos, i feltalone,in need of a friend instead ofa sister, someone detached frommy world.The "woman's role" theorydisgusted me.I would soon be a woman, and Iknew I could never perform asexpected.I was tired of my mom's submissionto her religion, to her husband'ssick quest for an heir,to his abuse.I was sick of my dad, ofreaching forhim as he fell farther awayfrom us and into the arms ofJohnnie WB.”

“My mother said she already knew how I was. She could tell I was like that since I was a baby. She told me a story about when I was a toddler. She said that one day, she heard an alarm clock ringing in her room and when she went inside, she saw me bent over it. When she got closer, she could she me shaking baby powder on it!“What are you doing, Joey?” She asked me.“Baby crying,” was my reply.”