Congratulations on being born! Are you a boy or a girl? [[Yes]] [[No]] [[Maybe]] [[Boy]] [[Neither; I'm like two seconds old. Gender doesn't develop until you're at least, like, 2, right?]] GirlAh, you've got something dangling 'tween your legs then, right? [[What?]] [[No.]] [[Yeah.]]Oh so you're one of THEM, are you? Let's just take a look... Yup, I see some dangly bits. Gross, that. [[Boy]] it is.Oh so you're one of THEM, are you? Well you've gotta choose. Let's just take a look... Yup, I see some dangly bits. Gross, that. [[Boy]] it is.Oh so you're one of THEM, are you? Well you've gotta choose. Actually, no you don't. I'll choose for you. [[Boy]] it is!Cute. Well behavioral science suggests that our INTERNAL sense of gender begins somewhere around 2 years old or later, but we ALL know that it's assigned to us based on what's between our legs. I'm just gonna write down [[Boy]].What don't you understand? [[Yeah.]] or [[No]]. Ok, let me take a look. Maybe you're confused. [[Yeah.]] I see some dangly bits. Gross, that. Boy it is.Lucky. Welcome to [[life as a boy]].You are born! Congratulations on that. Your parents are super happy. They were expecting a boy, so had everything ready for you; blue swaddling clothes, blue crib, blue onsies, blue bibs. The first few years of your life are gonna have a lot of blue. You better get used to it. They even got you [[Blue Diapers]].Hello, and Welcome to Gender:AssignedMaleAtBirth, a game that takes you through the process of being born, experiencing gender policing, and ultimately ends on a question-mark regardless of your choices. Players will be able to choose from one or more links in the text of each "card" to further the story. This story is depicted through vignettes with massive time skips. It is up to the player to create the in-between narrative of a character that fits their past and present choices. This game is inspired by and for the #JamForLeelah. Because of this, the path all options take generally follows the same route. I may make a longer, more detailed and in-depth version of this game in the future; the original intention of this was a game that would allow the player to explore as cisgender, transgender, woman, man, and non-binary. As it is I only had the time and energy to devote to one real path, that of a trans-feminine (unspecified) character from birth through middle school (about age 13/14). Perhaps in the future I'll expand upon this small seed. Please be aware: this game will misgender the main character, this game will police the character's gender, this game will reference genitalia, this game will allude to but not graphically describe abuse and abusive behaviors. This game has heavy trigger warnings for transphobia, misogyny, and suicidal ideation, (but does not depict suicide). Final note: the author of this game is @FluffyEclectic on twitter, a transgender non-binary/tumtum who was assigned male at birth. Fluffy is also white, bipolar, and has "invisible" physical disabilities. Please know that the game is not, and can not be, completely representative of all transgender people, especially those on intersections that differs from Fluffy's. Many thanks to Yosef Mayaan for creating the CSS sheet for the game as well. With that said, let's start at the [[beginning]].Life is pretty boring for the first few years. People coo and fuss over you. You forget a lot. You learn a lot (mostly by putting things in your mouth). People call you "champ." Your mom calls you "my hero" a lot (what's that about? You're only a baby...) and dad constantly refers to you as "son" or some other masculine endearment. Your first word is "dada" (if you can call that a word), and your dad cried happily saying you're a chip off the old block and "just like his old man!" Your first few birthday parties were filled with people pinching your cheeks, asking to hold you (or you asking to be held), and a lot of presents that weren't ACTUALLY for you. Not this birthday, though. For your [[3rd birthday]] not only can you understand what's going on, you can finally speak!About two weeks before your birthday your mom sits down with you in her lap "Ok, honey," she says, "it's time to decide what you want to be for your birthday!" "[[A Princess!]]" "[[BATMAN]]" "[[Can I just have a clown instead?]]" "I... what?" As you repeat that you want to be a princess for your party you mom sighs. "Honey, you're a boy. Boys can't be princesses. Why not... [[BATMAN]]? That's the type of thing boys can be." You throw a temper tantrum, but your mom doesn't let up. Eventually you get a time out and no cookies after dinner.Something tells me that mom was going to force you to be Batman no matter what you did; after all she DID get those Batman and Robin napkins last week. Eventually the day of your party arrives and mom dresses you up in a Batman costume. A few other kids come but it's still mostly your family and adult friends of your parents. The other kids aren't outright ignoring you, but they don't really seem to care too much either. So what are you gonna do? [[Have a good time]] [[Sulk]] [[Be Princess Batman]] [[Be Batgirl-dressed-as-Batman]] "A clown? Don't you think that would scare the other children? No, how about... [[BATMAN]]? Yes, I think that'll do good for you." You beg mommy for a clown but she's adamant that you can't get one. Batman it is.This party's kinda fun! All of the new and old adults are fawning all over you. The kids kind of ignore you, but that's ok. Most of them are just kids of your parents' friends and not regular playmates. When it comes time to do the cake your parents have trouble finding you; it seems you and the other kids had started playing hide and seek, but the other kids forgot or never thought to tell you they stopped. In either case, a swat on the butt for leaving your party brings you right back and ready for the cake. Everyone gathers around the large cake with three candles in it. After they sing a song to you, you're told to blow them out and make a wish. [[What do you wish for]]?For whatever reason you're angry at your parents. Maybe you wanted a clown. Maybe you wanted to be a princess. In either case you continuously hide from the party until one of your parents finds you and forces you back outside to "play" with the other children, none of whom are interested in even talking to you. The third such time you disappear it's your dad who finds you, playing Batgirl in your room by jumping off your bed and swooping into Gotham. "Hey sport, what's going on?" Daddy sounds mad, but it's that kind of mad where he doesn't want you to know he's mad yet. "Your party's downstairs. There's gonna be cake soon." "I'm playing batgirl!" A few seconds later you're being cradled in your dad's arms while he rocks you and you cry. Your face hurts. It was all a blur. "Daddy's sorry, son. Daddy's sorry. But you can't say that. You're not a girl. Boys play Batman or Robin." Eventually he soothes you down enough that your crying turns into the occasional hiccup. Your face still hurts but it's going away. Daddy looks at your cheek closely. "You'll be ok, son. Come on, it's time for the cake. Mom will be angry if you don't hurry up. Downstairs everyone gathers around the large cake with three candles in it. After they sing a song to you, you're told to blow them out and make a wish. [[What do you wish for]]?Not content to let your love of princesses go unmarked you top your costume off with a tiara from an old playset in your room. Your mom is really angry when she sees you wearing it. "I thought I told you..." she has the angry voice. You weren't allowed to come down for the party until the very end, and then only if you left the tiara in your room. Since you didn't get breakfast or lunch because of the tiara, cake sounded like just what you needed and your jaw didn't hurt anymore, either. The adults murmur when you came down and your mom says something about how clumsy you are. You don't understand why. Regardless, everyone gathers around the large cake with three candles in it. After they sing a song to you, you're told to blow them out and make a wish. [[What do you wish for]]?Sometimes you've gotta send a girl to do a man's job! You spend the whole party pretending to be Batgirl who is pretending to be Batman. You find it's pretty effective, too; everyone believes you're Batman and they all compliment you. Eventually everyone gathers around the large cake with three candles in it. After they sing a song to you, you're told to blow them out and make a wish. [[What do you wish for]]?You take a long, hard look at the cake before breathing in as much as you can and blowing out all three in one breath while thinking: [[I want to be a girl]] [[I want to be Batman]] [[I want to be a princess]] [[I wish for more pink]] [[I wish my parents would let me be who I am]][[Sorry about that...]] I thought we had this covered already? You're a boy. You can't change that. Stop being so dense. You've got a penis so you're going to be a man and there's NOTHING you can do to change that.[[You'll never be Batman]]; he's smart, mean, strong, and has a lot of money.[[Sorry about that...]] as mommy said before, boys can't be princesses. [[Sorry about that...]] but pink is a girly color anyway. You're much better off with blue. Or maybe green. Yeah, green is manly enough.[[Your parents love you as you are... even if it doesn't seem like it.]]Your wish goes unanswered and unheard, really. Life stays the same with you getting in trouble and not understanding why, your parents getting angry and losing control. Eventually they become so ashamed of you they don't let you play with other kids. Mommy gets a baby sitter when she can, even though she's still around the house, because she just can't stand looking at you. The baby sitter still yells at you for playing dress up, but it doesn't matter as much. Eventually you grow up enough that it's time for kindergarten. [[First day at school]].Sometimes they just don't know how to show it. And, anyways, it's not like you're the easiest child. It's kind of your fault it's all so hard. You learn not to ask for things unless you really need them, but even then mommy and daddy get really angry and can't believe that you need something else. Sometimes you wear clothes that have holes and leave you cold because you don't want to make them mad. Eventually it's time for you to start kindergarten. [[First day at school]].So just give up on that dream. The next couple years make you feel powerless. Your parents continue to get angry at you for every little thing, and it actually gets worse. They start taking you to see this man every week who asks you questions. He asks you if mommy and daddy hurt you but you say no because daddy told you what would happen if you told him yes. You didn't want to be locked up in jail, and you loved mommy and daddy too much to want them killed. This one time police show up to your house with a really nice lady, but nothing comes of it. You got in a lot of trouble for that. Eventually it's time for you to start kindergarten [[First day at school]].So, what do you want to wear? It's one of those few times YOU get to decide! [[Suit and bowtie]] [[Batman costume!]] [[Jeans and a t-shirt]] [[Something else]]How cuuuuuuuuuuute! Who's the little lady-killer? Now that you're dressed, [[it's time for the day.]]When you come out of your bedroom in your Halloween costume, complete with cape, your mother's face goes very red. Scared, you run back into your room, desperate for a different ensemble that won't make her angry. You're not fast enough, though. She still comes into "help" you pick. [[Suit and bowtie]] [[Jeans and a t-shirt]] [[Something else]]Pleased that you're able to take minimal care of yourself without intervention, your parents smile, and give you some cereal for breakfast. Now that you're dressed, [[it's time for the day.]]Who are you kidding? The last time you pulled out the tiara or wore your Batman cape as a dress daddy made sure you couldn't sit for a week. Mommy wouldn't be any better. Better choose from: [[Suit and bowtie]] [[Jeans and a t-shirt]]A few years later you're on the playground one day; recess has never been your favorite time of the day. At first you got to play in structured ways, the teacher or aide in charge would have you all play games. But lately they take you outside and let you loose. Sometimes there was a game of tag played between the boys and the girls, where boys chase the girls or vice versa to get them "out." Lately you're all old enough now that the boys have started to split off to play basketball or kickball, while most of the girls sit on the equipment and talk. A bit away from the equipment and the field there's a picnic table. That's become your spot. You beeline for it right when recess starts every day, book or gameboy in hand. Sometimes you even bring a notebook to draw or write in. Unlike your classmates you never really made good friends at school. No one really acknowledges that you fit in. You have some great friends online, though. [["Hey faggot!"]]"Hey faggot!" It was the voice of Jimmy Calhoun, one of the meanest boys in your class. He had the football the boys were playing with in his hand, ostensibly having retrieved it after it flew too far. "CATCH." You: [[flinch]] [[catch the ball]] [[protect your notebook]] [[cry out for a teacher]]You raise your hands to your face and manage to deflect the football... ...directly onto your notebook. "You... you... JERK!" you scream at Jimmy. In the blink of an eye he's suddenly very close to you, your shirt collar in his hand. "What'd you call me, fairy-boy?" You couldn't help but tremble. "Faggots like you should just die." Suddenly there are people surrounding you, including one very annoyed aide. How did you end up on your back in the grass? "What the heck happened here!?" Mrs. Groatke asks, then shakes her head. "Nevermind. Calhoun, [[take him to the nurse.]]"No you don't. If you were able to do that you'd be playing with the rest of the boys. You: [[flinch]] [[protect your notebook]] [[cry out for a teacher]]You manage to dive over your notebook in time to save the manga-style drawing from the muddy football. But not your nose. Suddenly there are people surrounding you, including one very annoyed aide. "What the heck happened here!?" Mrs. Groatke asks, then shakes her head. "Nevermind. Calhoun, [[take him to the nurse.]]"This effectively does nothing as Mrs. Groatke completely ignores you and not only are you hit, very hard, by the ball, your drawing is ruined. You look down with tears in your eyes to see red drips on the page, and feel your nose to discover it's bleeding. Suddenly there are people surrounding you, including one very annoyed aide. "What the heck happened here!?" Mrs. Groatke asks, then shakes her head. "Nevermind. Calhoun, [[take him to the nurse.]]"Thank you for playing Gender:AssignedMaleAtBirth. Written and designed by: <html><a href="https://twitter.com/fluffyeclectic">Michael "Fluffy" James Robinson</a></html> CSS Designed by: Yosef Mayaan (to be included in future update) Playtesting and Copyediting by: <html><a href="https://twitter.com/EmilyAviva">Rabbi Emily Aviva</a></html> This game is an incredibly shortened version of the original intent, Gender:Assignment; between things happening in my life and time slipping away, I decided it was more important for me to *finish* than to not put out anything. "Perfect is the enemy of finished" as they say. I hope that this has been a thought-provoking experience. In the original conception I'd planned to have this include many more branching paths, to display some of the nuances of non-binary vs binary experiences, to touch on cultures of masculinity and misogyny for cisgender directions. Unfortunately there just wasn't time. The aim of the game as is focuses on giving you, the "player" a chance to embody one story of youth, with an especial focus on how gender assignment, policing, and "socialization" harms us all. If you'd like, you can go back to the [[Welcome]] screen now and try playing the game again. You can also [[Read More]] about some of the choices I made in the story. Be kind to one another, ~FluffyYou've made it. Somehow. Just barely. With a bit of luck and the support of your friends online, you might be able to make it through high school. One thing's for sure, though: you know you're not "normal." You'll never be normal. [[Were you expecting a victory screen?]]Transgender youth experience bullying at an overwhelming rate compared to their cisgender peers, and over half of transgender people will attempt or commit suicide within their youth. We live in a culture that systemically and systematically wants transgender people of all stripes to be dead, whether that means killing us themselves or murdering us through suicide. Leelah Alcorn's death was a tragedy, but it was one of many. These tragic deaths are preventable, and it is cisnormativity that is to blame for them. [[The End.]]It's your eighth grade "graduation" and you're getting dressed. Middle school was terrible. Between your parents, always on your case for "not having real friends," and your classmates' constant bullying while your teachers looked the other way, you can't wait for high school. There's just one more choice. What will you wear under your robe? [[Suit and bowtie.]] [[Batman costume.]] [[Jeans and a t-shirt.]] [[Something else.]]Classic, stylish, and completely unassuming. The whole school should envy your style. Instead you just got laughed at by Jim Calhoun and his gang of meatheads backstage. While you were listening to the speeches someone sitting behind you put their gum in your hair and you didn't notice until later. Your parents had to take you to get your hair completely buzzed off before summer break, and would insist that you keep that style at least until you started [[High School.]]You can't be a child in high school. Bullying has taught you one thing for sure: comics are only sort of cool; dressing as a superhero? Definitely not. [[Suit and bowtie.]] [[Jeans and a t-shirt.]] [[Something else.]]Who cares what you look like? You're wearing a robe, right? Mrs. Johnston, apparently, cared what you look like. Instead of being allowed to take part in the ceremony she forces you to sit backstage. When your name should have been called they skipped on to Angie Kovach instead. Your parents were furious when you got home and promised you that you wouldn't ever get a chance to dress yourself again until after [[High School.]]You know the dangers of wearing that lipstick you took a five-finger-discount on from the pharmacy. You know what your parents would do to you if they found out you were wearing stockings again. You look in the mirror and sigh, doing your best to suppress tears. Doing your best to "be a man." [[Suit and bowtie.]] [[Jeans and a t-shirt.]] Ah, middle school! The domain of tweens. Your school district combines all of your elementary schools into one tiny building for sixth, seventh, and eighth grades. As such, it's your first time meeting a LOT of new people. When you report to school, you check your schedule. Unfortunately there's no real choice in where you go; that comes in high school. Your schedule looked a lot different from other kids' though and you weren't quite sure why. You know why when you get to your homeroom. A big sign over the top says "[[SPECIAL EDUCATION.]]"The room you're in has seven desks instead of the usual thirty. The teacher's name is written on the board in what appears to be decades old chalk that she's just never erased. Mrs. Patterson. She's nowhere to be found. You look at your schedule again. HOMEROOM: IS - Patterson 1st Period: IS MATH - Patterson 2nd Period: LANG. ARTS - Walton 3rd Period: IS SCIENCE - Patterson 4th Period: IS SPECIAL - [Various] 5th Period: LUNCH - Aide 6th Period: IS STUDY HALL - Patterson 7th Period: IS STUDY HALL - Patterson 8th Period: SOCIAL STUDIES - Waverly 9th Period: IS BACKUP - Patterson You're not 100% sure that your parents knew you were placed in special education. Then again, maybe they put you here. You've never had difficulty in math or science, or any subject, really. You've just had difficulty with the other kids. [[Mrs. Patterson walks into the room.]]"OH!" she says, obviously flustered. "You're here a bit early, aren't you? Well, go ahead, find your seat! I labeled them all for you." She has a flowery voice, almost like it was made out of crushed rose petals. She is treating you like you are two years old. What do you do? [[Find your seat]] [[Ask her why you're here]] [[Refuse and leave]] [[Ask to see the principal]]You find your seat, flustered and frustrated. You don't want to be here. You were looking forward to finally getting to learning some difficult math, to meeting new people. Instead you were going to be sequestered from everyone in the "IS" room. Eventually the other students file in and the homeroom bell rings. The other students are the ones who have always been in exclusion at your old elementary school. They must have kept them together in order to break the routine as little as possible. You resign yourself to your new life of [[dull misery]]. At least until your graduation. You cough once and look at the floor. "Excuse me Mrs. Patterson," you begin, "but I'm confused. Why am I in... what is IS anyway?" She smiles at you and shakes her head. "There's no need for you to worry about that. As for why you're here... well, I'd need to know your name first, wouldn't I?" She pulls out a folder from her desk after you tell her your name and spell it for her; she gives you what comes off as a very patronizing compliment on your ability to spell. "Ah, yes, you've been put here because your parents and the teachers at your old school were worried about your [[ability to socialize.]] Essentially, it's my job to help you get your act together by providing a safer environment for you to learn those skills." She smiles sweetly. It's saccharine and gross.You look at the teacher with disbelief and shake your head. "No thanks," but as you turn to leave her voice becomes ice cold. "You will stop right there, young man." It's like she enchanted you; you're unable to move an inch! "Let me guess, ah yes, you're the new-to-exclusion IEP student, right?" She opens a folder at her desk while you turn around. "Oppositional defiant; I thought so. Let me just tell you right now, mister, I won't accept any bad behavior in my classroom. You will sit when I tell you to. You will follow my directions. If you do not, we will simply have to take you out of all classes." Oppositional... what? You remembered that your parents had some meetings at the middle school during the summer. You thought it was odd at the time but didn't really care. That was time they spent away from you. "Excuse me Miss Patt..." "It is MRS. Patterson," she interrupts, "and there's no need for you to respond. [[Find your seat]] and then find something to do until homeroom bell." You don't see much choice."Miss Patter..." "It's MISSUS young man, I didn't get married for nothing!" "Right. Uhm. Mrs. Patterson. Could I go to the principal's office please?" She looks at you for a long moment and sighs. Looking at a clipboard on her desk she then calls out your name, "is that you?" "Yes?" you respond, confused. "Why, exactly, do you want to see the principal?" You resist the urge to scream at her. "Because, ma'am, I'm not completely sure why I'm here." She smiles so sweetly that you feel like tossing water on her just to see her melt. "I can tell you that, my dear. The principal is really too busy to deal with students, especially on the first day. Let's see, according to your chart you've been seeing a psychologist regularly back at your old school right?" "Yeah, my parents made me." "Well, it seems that he, and they, were worried about your [[ability to socialize.]] They decided to put you in here with me, at least for the time being, to help you learn those skills."You feel trapped and ambushed. Your issues with socializing centered around the fact that there was no one new to socialize with. You were bullied so much that literally *every* other student in your grade at that school was a bully. You'd been counting on your ability to meet and make new friends. Your friends online even *promised* it'd be easier in middle school with people you didn't know. "Do I not get a choice, ma'am?" you ask, dialing your politeness up to eleven. You know that every chance you have of having a "normal" middle school experience relies on you pleasing this woman enough to let you have what you want. "No." One word and she slams the gates shut. It's not just the word itself; it's how she stands there, fake smile plastered over a dead look of boredom. She's taken your measure, by her own measure, and decided that you really do belong here. There is no way out. You begin to reconcile the reality of what you are going to miss this year. "Now. [[Find your seat]]. Once the homeroom bell rings we'll begin. I know you'll just love your classmates."The nurse takes one look at you and sighs. "Thanks very much Jimmy. I know it was probably a hassle. You head back to recess." This wasn't your first time in the office with a Jimmy-related ailment. Unfortunately the nurse also patently refused to believe Jimmy ever acted unprovoked. Somehow YOU were always the problem, and if you just didn't provoke him he'd leave you alone. Never mind the fact that ignoring and avoiding him both seemed to escalate the behavior. "Tilt your head back, put this ice pack on it" she said, bored. "[[And I'll call your parents.]]"You knew what to expect at home now, at least. Lots of yelling. Since you were clearly hurt you were out of danger there, at least. Still. You knew that you could expect to not be allowed online for at least a week. Your friends were going to worry. You'd just started to create a group of friends on Tumblr and you took care of each other. Your parents, recognizing your increased use of the computer and Internet, did not hesitate to use this new fascination as leverage. You sat and cried on the bed in the nurse's office. "Oh come on," she said annoyed, "it doesn't hurt that much. it's not even broken. [[Stop being such a girl.]]"Your last year of elementary school saw you in a psychologist's office once a week in school. You didn't ask for this. Your parents required it. They'd told the principal that you refused to listen at home, and that you seemed disturbed. You'd told them you didn't think you wanted to be a boy anymore. The psychologist was a nice man. You couldn't really pronounce his name though. Mr. Rybaczuk​. He let you call him Mr. R. Not that you addressed him often. [["Tell me," he said one day, "it says here you got in a fight again..."]]He's talking about Melanie McKnight. She was a new girl to the school and your class, but found that it was easiest to fit in by picking on you. She'd poured her pudding on your head in the lunch room, and you'd kicked her in the shins. No one believed it was her fault. After all, boys shouldn't hit girls no matter what. What do you say? [["Melanie started it, sir."]] [[Stay silent]] [["I hate this school."]]"Melanie started it, sir," you started to explain but he stopped you mid-sentence. "What have I said? Use I-statements. They'll help you express how you *feel* about what happened. I don't need to know the events." Great. Even he didn't care to listen to you and that was his job. No one ever listened to you. "I think that I acted appropriately to the situation, sir." "Better. But I know you know better. Should little boys hit little girls?" "No sir." "So what do you have to say for yourself." "[[I guess I shouldn't have hit her, sir.]]" You said, defeated. "I shouldn't have hit her."The clock ticks seem to drag on. Mr. Rybaczuk​ technically only has you for thirty minutes but you know he won't let you leave until you talk. He knows that you know too. He's patient, but you're more patient. You have to be. It's the only way you can survive. Five minutes until the end of the session Mr. R finally speaks up. "You know, I'm really disappointed in..." "[[I guess I shouldn't have hit her, sir.]]" Whenever he said he was disappointed in you, that meant he was calling your mom. That meant you'd be alone for at least a week as your computer privileges were revoked. You didn't think you could handle that on top of all of the issues at school. "I mean, I shouldn't have."Mr. Rybaczuk waited for more. When more wasn't forthcoming from you he coughed. "While I understand you're frustrated by not being able to get along with..." "It's not that I don't get along with anyone! It's that they won't get along with me. Melanie and Jimmy hurt me and no one helps me. I just get in trouble instead." "But you hurt them too, right?" he asked. "Only in self-defense." "Is it ever right to hit another person?" You look at him. You can't hide the frustration on your face, especially in light of the fact that he's ignoring what you said. Did he really expect you to take the bullying and not take care of yourself? Yes. He did. "[[I guess I shouldn't have hit her, sir.]]" "Good, that's what I like to hear..."As you continued through fifth grade you became more and more sure you weren't like the other kids at your school. Your main teacher mentioned that in [[Middle School]], though, all of the elementary schools would be pooled together. That you'd be surrounded by new people and new faces. By new chances. You knew this was your only chance. You didn't have to hold out for long, just the rest of the year and the summer. And then you'd meet new people. You could have some friends "irl" to add to your support network of slightly older online friends. Later that night they confirmed that middle school was better. They gave you hints and tips for dealing with your bullies and the psychologist. Not everything worked, but thankfully you managed to survive, even though you didn't always want to.If only it were just misery. The few times you weren't in IS you found yourself in class with Jimmy Calhoun, now a star football player for the school team. In fact, all of your classes had almost all students from your old school. It seems the school had decided to make it that way to help transition everyone into middle school. The only period with new people was lunch... but Melanie McKnight made sure on that first day you were marked. She tripped you as you came out of the cafeteria line, then complained to the aide that you got tomato soup all over her dress. You got detention for a week and the eternal scorn of almost everyone at school. You withdrew into yourself and your only real friends... the ones at home and through a computer screen. Increasingly lonely, you're not sure what to do with yourself. You just feel... worthless. Eventually you make it through, somehow, to [[graduation.]]As you could tell, this story dealt with heavily dramatized gender policing through three angles: parents, peers, and teachers. The intent of this was to create a semi-holistic experience for the player while also giving them a look at how reinforcement can work from multiple sources, as well as how it "stacks." While there are very few well-meaning "policemen" in this piece (except, arguably, the parents and Mrs. Patterson), typically transgender people experience a lot of these behaviors by people who fully believe they are doing what's right and in the best interests of the child. **Abuse:** Clearly this story was meant to detail an abusive relationship with the protagonist's parents. It was difficult for me to choose whether or not to "go there" but in the end I chose to, as it's such a typical trans* experience. Often parents, so tied into the systems of cisnormativity, are abusive despite their best intentions. Often this is much less blatant than the physical abuse the main character received here, including years of gaslighting and tearing them down. Is this present in all transgender peoples' lives? No. However, it is persistent enough to be a common issue. **Suicide:** As this was part of a game jam in the name of someone who chose to end her life rather than continue to face the constant abuse and invalidation of her parents and society, I was very reluctant to include suicide as a topic I covered. Still, I felt it was very important to include, if only tangentially. While the undertones of suicidal ideation in this story are extremely subtle, I imagine that they strike a chord for most transgender folks who play. The truth is that more than 50% of transgender youth will attempt or commit suicide. That's worse odds than a coin-flip for each person. That's unacceptable. And it leads me to believe that even more struggle with suicidal ideation. If you are feeling suicidal there is help (from the game jam's info page): Trans Lifeline is a non-profit dedicated to the well being of transgender people. They run a hotline staffed by transgender people for transgender people. * US: (877) 565-8860 * Canada: (877) 330-6366 The Trevor Lifeline has trained counselors available 24/7 to help LGBTQ youth who are in crisis, feeling suicidal, or need a safe place to talk. * (866) 488-7386 The GLBT National Help Center provides telephone and email peer-counseling. * (888) 843-4564 The GLBT National Youth TALKLINE provides telephone and email peer-counseling specifically for younger people in crisis. * (800) 246-7743 **Length and Narrative:** This story is very short; as I mentioned in other cards, I ran out of time and had various personal issues during the writing of it. Originally this was intended to encompass six possible story arcs: transgender girl, transgender boy, amab transgender non-binary child, afab transgender non-binary child, cisgender girl, cisgender boy. Due to the crunch I simply has to collapse it into one story and I chose to use the outlines for the amab transgender non-binary child. Likewise, I took out the top half of the game and simply ended it at the character's entrance into High School, instead of their turning 18. This game would have had another four major scenes with two different outcomes depending on an otherwise innocuous choice. Despite these changes I'm still pleased with the product I came up with. The narrative is very narrow, however that serves as a metaphorical reinforcement of the game's message: gender policing is constant, consistent, and consistently applied to all people regardless of how we behave or follow direction. I like the vignette-style of storytelling here because it, too, is a metaphorical reification of the disassociation that many transgender people go through, losing a tremendous amount of time in order to protect themselves from the pain they've experienced. It forces the player to create a back story in much the same way that many of us are forced to about our own lives. **Educational Complicity:** As a teacher myself I struggled with writing the scenes with the protagonist's interactions with adults at school. Unfortunately I was able to base both of these instances on true experiences that I have seen happening to non-transgender youth who deal with bullying and interventions-as-punishment at public school. The complicity of adults in school bullying is terrifying. Indeed, it's extremely difficult as a teacher to not become complicit specifically because your job can often be what's at stake when you don't. Often it truly does happen in ways and places where a teacher cannot intervene or cannot notice; if your attention is already split into three places and a child chooses that moment to bully another child, chances are you'll miss it. It is often a balancing act of how much you intervene vs. how close your contract is to renewal, and the truth is it's easier for a school to "side" with a bully; contrary to common wisdom bullies tend to be charismatic, well-connected, and extremely intelligent children who know exactly what they're doing. Sometimes teachers have no clue they're a bully (or, as is the case with the nurse and Mrs. Groatke, refuse to believe it). Oftentimes bullied kids who seek help end up being failed by the system and are instead treated to punitive "interventions" that brand them as having intense social issues. This is the situation I was trying to illustrate with Mrs. Patterson. A school district forced to act in some way combined with parents punitively correcting their child's expressions of gender could quite easily create an alienating situation for children. While I certainly do believe that Oppositional Defiant Disorder (commonly called ODD) is a serious and real issue that some students face, I have seen it too often applied and used as a way to label a child so that a school doesn't have to worry about educating or taking care of them. ODD is often applied as a punishment or as a way of justifying harsh and unnecessary punishments for many children, especially in poor and urban districts; it also disproportionately is "diagnosed" in LGBT students, as well as in cishet students of color. Thank you, ~Fluffy [[Welcome]]