The boy was in third grade, writing in his notebook. And his hands wrote, for the first time, Katrina. Why did he write this? Where had that name come from? No one noticed. The other boys were whispering shit about the teacher. The girls were giggling and passing notes. The boy grabbed his eraser. For some reason, he knew this was wrong, that nobody could ever know. “Katrina? Is that your girlfriend’s name?” a girl said. Her name was Danielle, and her eyes were brown. He did not know how to respond. “That’s a pretty name.”
Misgendered memory again -- why?
