Color Wheel (or How I Figured Out I Was Genderfluid)

Aug 3, 2016 | 2016 Summer - Labels, Articles, Poetry

By Stella

I am in second grade
I have the biggest crush on my teacher
He is kind and nice
In my seven-year-old eyes he is the smartest person
When he asks us to color in a picture with our favorite color
My page is covered in greens and blue and reds and I use every crayon in the box
My teacher comes over
He frowns and asks me to pick one color I tell him I like all the colors
He tells me every color can’t be my favorite
He is the smartest person I know
He must be right
My little teddy bear heart breaks

I am in sixth grade
We have to interview each other
One of the questions asked
What is your favorite color I happily answer all of them
My partner frowns at me
You have to pick one I tell him I like all the colors the same
On the paper he writes down blue
Says I can borrow his favorite color
It is kind
But still feels like I am lying
Good intentions
It still feels like something is being stolen from me

I am in eighth grade
We have to write an essay about who we are
They ask us to include our favorite things
Including our favorite color
My paper is perfect
At least to me
It is twice as long as asked to be
I’m sure my teacher will love it
When she reads it she frowns
Hands it back
Tells me I did it incorrectly
I have to pick one favorite
I grow tired of people frowning at me I sigh and write down blue
I guess I’ll share that color after all

I start telling people my favorite color is blue
Less explaining that way
Less fighting to validate myself that way
Less people frowning at me that way

Fast forward to college
It is pride week
Rainbows litter my vision
I already know who I am sexuality wise
Here I am allowed to like all the colors
We fill out a form
To introduce ourselves
Under favorite color I write color wheel
They smile
Ask me if I meant rainbow
Without meaning to they are still asking me to pick

The rainbow doesn’t have all the colors
Seafoam green
Golden brown
It doesn’t hold the color of sunlight reflecting on grass
Doesn’t have the color of clouds against the moon
I try to find the words to explain this I can’t find them
So I cross out my answer and write rainbow

I was taught to pick
From an early age
I was taught only certain shades mattered
I was taught that people who could pick were better
Pick a color
You can’t like them all
Pick a label
You have too many
Pick a gender
Stop being selfish

I’ve been trained to pick
I’ve picked until I lost myself
Not anymore
My favorite color is the color wheel
My sexuality is my own
As is my gender
I will not pick
I will not give away parts of myself
Because not only do I like all the colors
I am all the colors

Stella, 23, enjoys tea, coffee and pretending to be an author. There was a small notebook full of quotes and book recommendations that they carried everywhere which got damaged in a flood, summing up their life so far pretty well. Stella can be found at

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