just because you perhaps feel confident in your gender doesn't mean everyone is
Gender Identity is a made-up concept.
If a doctor told me a biopsy showed I had a "ladybrain" I would not - under any circumstances - chop my cock off. Nor would I go around trying to tell women I was a lesbian.
But if my teenage youth was lived out today, I would undoubtedly be "transed" by society - because I didn't identify "with" the boys (I thought they were thuggish dickheads) and I had no interest in "boys sports" and fighting.
The New Romantic movement was heaven for people like me. It gave me permission to - in a way that felt "legitimate" - reject my peers and freak them out enough to leave me alone. I was sometimes called "gay" but I didn't really care because I didn't need the approval of those people anyway.
I would spend many nights in places like Camden Palace etc. rubbing shoulders with the likes of Boy George, Steve Strange, Marilyn, Philip Salon, bopping away with my vanilla-blonde hair*, thick black eyeliner and purple lipstick.
(* I say "vanilla blonde" but after a month it would be more accurate to say "custard")
Anyway, over time the whole New Romantic thing that gave me safe passage out of my home town into the anonymous bedsit land of London finally burnt itself out and eventually I no longer needed a fashionable crutch to justify my existence. I just wore whatever I needed to in order to create the right impression at the right time without agonising about it. Rejecting maleness ceased to be necessary.
Today - as those of you who've met me will testify - I'm visually a stonking great beast of a bloke who has to take special measures at night so as not to appear intimidating to lone women at night.
I'm glad no-one persuaded me to chop my tackle off back then, because if they had, I would not have become a dad to my wonderful daughters.
My job now is to shepherd them through school and into teenagers and beyond whilst keeping pills and the surgeon's knife away from them so that, should they choose to, they can suffer that beautiful and magical burden of commitment that we call parenthood.