This is a message to all of my followers and the Social Justice Warriors of Tumblr. I can take the misery of hiding my true identity no longer, I am officially coming out as soccerballgendered.
Before you dismiss me as another run-of-the-mill troll, let me explain how I discovered that I am truly meant to be a soccer ball.
It all started when I was seven years old, before I knew there was more to the gender spectrum than male and female (thank my ignorant twats of parents for that one). I had been identifying as a male for my whole life, even though deep down I knew something wasn’t right.
Due to my surprising lack of friends, my mother took the liberty of signing me up for my local YMCA’s recreational soccer team to try to get me to socialize with other children. I wasn’t much of an athlete, but I decided to go with it anyway.
It was the first day of practice, I was a little nervous to be around so many strangers due to my self-diagnosed social anxiety disorder, but I so bravely endured the experience. My coach asked me if I had played soccer before. I confessed I had not, and that I honestly didn’t know how to play. My coach gladly explained, “It’s very simple, just try to kick the ball into the opposite goal.”
"Really, is that it?" I questioned.
"Yep!" My coach replied. "The most important characteristic a soccer player must have is control. Keep your eyes on the ball. Control the ball. Feel the ball’s power race through your veins. Be the ball."
These words reverberated through my mind like a bald eagle’s screech through the Grand Canyon. My whole life was beginning to make sense. I was not a boy deep down. I was a soccer ball, and now I knew: I had to be that soccer ball.
I immediately ran home and grabbed my soccer ball from my closet. A little old and beat up, but perfect nonetheless. I removed the shoelace from my Nike Light-Up Sneakers and fastened the ball to the top of my misidentifying cranium.
"Mommy look, I’m a soccer ball!"
"No you aren’t Jason. Now take that dirty old thing off your head and go to your room!"
That was it. That was the event that caused my PTSD and depression, both of which I still have to this day. I couldn’t believe my mom could be so ignorant and transphobic.
Humiliated, I complied with my mother’s ludicrous demand. I spent the next several years of my life in desolation and solitude. I masqueraded as the white cis scum I knew I wasn’t, just to please my mother.
Well no longer. I am taking a stand.
Now that I am officially the first ever member soccerballgendered community, let me set the ground rules (ha ha, soccer pun).
My preferred, nay, my MANDATORY pronouns are either soccerball/soccerball/soccerballself or fútbol/fútbols/fútbolself. if you identify my as anything other, you are directly oppressing me and proving that you are a bigot.
My triggers are as follows:
Parents (especially mothers and fathers)
If we are mutual, please tag these as it may activate my PTSD uwu
I hope y’all understand that this is truly who I am. I didn’t choose the soccer ball life, the soccer ball life chose me.
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
pixelskylines
romaincrisis
