Katie Rain Hill - Rethinking Normal. A Memoir in Transition

Ted E. Lane

KATIE RAIN HILL is a student at the University of Tulsa majoring in anthropology and sociology. She wrote this memoir while studying for exams, writing term papers, working part-time as a pharmaceutical technician, and advocating for LGBTQA rights. Rethinking Normal is her first book.

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This work is a memoir. It reflects the authors present recollections of her experiences over a period of years. Certain names, locations, and identifying characteristics have been changed, and certain individuals are composites. Dialogue and events have been recreated from memory and, in some cases, have been compressed to convey the substance of what was said or what occurred.

Text copyright 2014 by Katie Rain Hill

Jacket design by Laurent Linn

Jacket illustration and title lettering by Lauren Simkin Berke

Jacket illustration copyright 2014 by Lauren Simkin Berke

Photographs on copyright 2013 by Anissa Denise Richter. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.

Photographs on copyright 2011 by Jazzlyn Hill.

All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.

Photograph on copyright 2012 by Daryl Fiset.

All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.

Photograph on copyright 2014 by Robbie Murdoch.

All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.

Photograph on copyright 2014 by Arin Andrews.

All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission.

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Book design by Laurent Linn

The text for this book is set in Arrus.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hill, Katie Rain.

Rethinking normal : a memoir in transition / by Katie Rain Hill. 1st edition.

pages cm

Summary: In this Young Adult memoir, a transgender girl shares her personal journey of growing up as a boy and then undergoing gender reassignment during her teens Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-1-4814-1823-2 (hardback) ISBN 978-1-4814-1825-6 (e-book) 1. Hill, Katie RainJuvenile literature. 2. Transsexual youthUnited StatesBiographyJuvenile literature. 3. Transgender youthUnited StatesBiographyJuvenile literature. 4. Male-to-female transsexualsUnited StatesBiographyJuvenile literature. 5. TranssexualsIdentityJuvenile literature. 6. Transgender peopleIdentityJuvenile literature. I. Title.

HQ77.8.H55A3 2014

306.76808350973dc23

2014013051

For my wonderful mom

I really, really hate flies. Is there anything worse than when youre trying to concentrate and some fly is buzzing around your head going, Bzzz bzzz bzzz ? I mean, yes, there are things that are worse. But right now, sitting here, attempting to begin this memoir, there is nothing I would love more than to have this fly obliterated.

So thats the first fun fact about me: I hate flies. What else?

When this book is published, Ill be twenty years old and a junior at the University of Tulsa.

I lived in five different cities by the time I was twelve, including Okinawa, Japan, and Okay, Oklahomapopulation: six hundred twenty.

One of the most romantic nights of my life was making out with a guy until the sun came up while the DVD of Final Destination featuring a gory death every five minutesplayed on repeat in the background.

When I was fifteen, I transitioned from being Luke (a boy) to Katie (a girl).

Okay. I just killed the fly. Im pretty proud of myself, to tell you the truth. It paused on the cafeteria table and didnt see my hand before it was too late. Of course, now that I finally have silence, Ive got to get to class. In five minutes I have Philosophy 1003: Socrates to Sartre: Ideas That Shaped Our World. After that Im meeting up with Todd. Ill tell you more about him later. For now just this one quick detail: Todd gave me a dog tag thats hanging off my backpack that reads, Property of Katie Motherfucking HillStudent at PigFartsMajoring in Being a Bitch. I love it. I love it so much.

I was born on May 12, 1994, in New Bern, North Carolina, with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck. As soon as I came out, the doctors flew into a frenzy, grabbed me, pushed my dadwho had been waiting to cut the cord of his firstborn sonout of the way, cut the cord themselves, and rushed me to a table to try to revive me. My mom caught a glimpse as they whisked me awaymy face blueberry blue from lack of airflowand she started screaming and crying.

Wheres my baby? Wheres my baby?

She kicked and thrust, trying to get out of the stirrups and out of the bed, while doctors held her down.

I could have died, almost did die. The doctors pinked me back up and brought me to my mom.

Are you sure hes okay? my mother asked.

According to my mom, I was completely silenteerily so for a newbornfast asleep in her arms. My mom was terrified that Id somehow been damaged from the asphyxiation, that I might be mentally handicapped like her second son from a previous marriage, Josh, was. The doctors reassured her that everything was fine. They brought my dad back in, and he and my mom stared down at me. Soft, full lips. Long eyelashes. And when I slowly opened them, deep blue eyes just like my dads.

Look at him, my mom whispered. Hes an angel.

The very first question people ask when theres a baby involved is, Is it a boy or a girl? And the instant that question is answered, people begin to place prejudgments and expectations onto that baby. If its a boy, they imagine the clothes he will be dressed in, what toys he will be given, what sports he will play, the woman he will fall in love with and marry. If its a girl, they envision party dresses, a bride walking down the aisle, a mom-to-be giving birth herself.

And so it was with me. My parents knew beforehand that they were having a boy, and planned accordingly. After I was born, they wrapped me in my blue-and-white blankie and took me home from the hospital to my blue-painted bedroom. The first couple of years of my life, I barely made a peep. I was the quietest baby you could possibly imagine. I never cried. I never whined. My mom wouldnt even know when to feed me or change my diaper. I would just lie there with that stupid happy baby face, with a diaper full of poop, smiling at everyone. My mom says I was the happiest baby shes ever seen. It was a happiness that would not last long.