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Just a note of explanation. While I found the recent conversation about the word Gurl interesting, I was nudged into a personal reflection triggered by the very real frustration many of us feel regarding our identity. Without thought, I was immediately transported back to my teens, in a way, where I was so conflicted about my gender. The song was running through me before I even thought about a response to the conversation, per se.
For several years, much of my work with my therapist has been in integrating myself while recognizing that for me, as with so many of us, my female self would remain closeted in nearly every way save for my writing and my late wife's and my son and his wife's tentative but willing support.
BUT the song itself grabbed me because I immediately thought of the nameless teen girl who was so confused and scared and even abandoned. One of my exercises is to talk to my past selves. But until today I came to grips with how guilty I felt for abandoning her for decades. I had never talked to her from my adult perspective. The promises I made to myself...to her that were never kept...the promises I mentioned in my lyrics, reflect that.
As I was listening to the music before I even began to write, I visited a Reddit site devoted to Trans folks. Today, like every day I drop by, there were a few entries asking questions about families and transition issues. The vast majority of the entries today, however, were before and after pics; various stages of transition mostly reflecting their HRT progress. For nearly everyone, the difference between pre- and post- HRT was the look of relief on the faces of each of them post-HRT. But there also were pics of girls and young ladies whose faces almost pleaded for acceptance. AM I GOOD ENOUGH? Will this BE enough?
I'm quite fine now; my therapy tools work quite well. But I wept freely when I listened to the song. I don't even know if I could even remotely opine what Lennon's intent for the song was, but to me, my words are a lament. I spent the time while I was writing talking with the 14-year-old, friendless, new school, and hopeless 'drea.
She understood...understands. And we're all good, as the saying goes.
Thanks for reading, y'all!
