Nick, by all accounts is just another teenager. Unfortunately, Nick lives in a small town, a very small town where people who are different are seen as different, and often unacceptable. Nick is a girl who dresses like a Tomboy. People have decided that a girl shouldn't look like her nor should they dress like her. It is because there is a lack of understanding and acceptance that Nick finds herself constantly trying to explain to other people the decisions that she has made to dress the way that she believes she should dress. Her teachers and classmates don’t support her, and she often feels isolated while at the same time feeling empowered. She is living in her truth and living in her comfort and that should be enough for everyone. Sharing the story of telling her mother that she was a lesbian and asking her for permission to start her senior year as the woman that she had always known herself to be was a challenge but one of her happiest moments. With her mother’s support she knew she could do anything. Dresses and skirts made her uncomfortable, made her want to crawl out of her skin. Once she realized that her mother loved her regardless of who she was Nick had the courage and support that she needed to do exactly what she had always wanted to do, be honest about who she was. Originally her name was Nikki but on the first day of her senior year of high school she decided she would prefer to be called Nick. Nick the Tomboy with short hair, baggy jeans and a button up shirt. This is a story that is not unlike so many other stories about teenagers having the comfort to live in their truth. It is because of the people around them that they feel like their truth is a lie. But Nick is strong, determined, and will never allow herself to be anything other the Nick.
I Prefer Nick
I feel like I'm no different than anyone else. I wake up in the morning either to my alarm or my mother yelling at me to tell me that I am late for school, again. Jump out of bed, take a shower, come back to my room, open my closet, and for me that's when things start to shift a bit. I have my clothes organized by type and color because I guess this is one of those things that makes me a little obsessive compulsive. My pants are here next to them are the slacks all organized from color dark to light and that's normal for me. It's organized, color coded and it should make picking out my clothes for the day really simple. I think I tend to focus on the three trash bags of clothes in the bottom of my closet that I have tried to hide. That kind of out of sight out of mind, I just didn’t want to see them anymore, just focus on what's hanging. The clothes in the trash bags are clothes that I used to wear. Things I wish I could have burned but the compromise I came to with my mom was that I would keep them, “Just in case” my mom would say. My mother always told me, “I really love some of those clothes. You look super cute in them.” Since the age of four skirts made me feel uncomfortable, so much so that when I had to wear one I would avoid looking into mirrors. It just felt like I was lying to myself. Dresses made me feel like spiders were crawling all over my body and I just couldn't get them off. Mom thought I might be allergic to the fabric softener. No mom, allergic to wearing these clothes that don’t want to wear. And I hated pink. Because, you see, I don't dress like a boy, I dressed like me, Nick. It used to be Nicky, but I prefer nick.