Baby Bryson

Once upon a time, there was a little boy, with a mess of curly hair and a gappy grin. He loved his Bananas in Pyjamas PJs, Postman Pat, and his family.

Everyone called him a different name, and no one saw him. It got so that he couldn’t even see himself.

Things were really tough. The boy felt so different from other kids. He was filled with anxiety and shame. He hated his disability, and worried people would hate him if they found out about it. He couldn’t see himself.

As he grew, he would find refuge in books and stories. His favourite was Harry Potter. He loved the world, and the characters. The boy would sit in the playground alone, and read. There were days when he was so anxious he couldn’t go to school, and the only thing that helped was books.

His favourite characters were Lupin and Harry. Both had such hard lives, but they were good, and kind, and brave anyway. They fought for what was right even when it was hard. They didn’t give up, even when it was hard.

The boy saw himself in them even before he knew who he was.

He never really preferred girl characters, even though, based on who others thought he was, that might’ve been expected. Even when the girls were strong and powerful. 

He longed to be like the boys in stories; strong, and brave, and good. He longed to be a king, or a prince, or a cabin boy. He longed to have the freedom to be a boy.

But he didn’t know that’s what it was. He didn’t have the words. 

Now he does.