Zisin - Finding Nevo: how I confused everyone

Meet Nevo: girl, boy, he, she, him, her, they, them, daughter,
son, teacher, student, friend, gay, bi, lesbian, trans, homo,
Jew, dyke, masculine, feminine, androgynous, queer.
Nevo was not born in the wrong body. Nevo just wants
everyone to catch up with all that Nevo is.

Personal, political and passionate, Finding Nevo is an
autobiography about gender and everything that comes with it.

A gorgeous coming of age story about one persons journey
to discover themselves. Zisin is a compelling storyteller with
a delightful and exciting new voice. Clementine Ford

Nevo, dressed as a pirate for Purim, approximately four years old (2000)

Theres something quite ironic about writing a life story at my age. I am only twenty after all.

My story begins before I was born.

My mother had a life of travelling and fun interspersed with studying and working as a teacher. But at a certain age, she said, she felt that her biological clock was ringing, and she decided to settle down and take things slower (though most people who know her would say slowing down is not in my mothers vocabulary). At thirty, she met my father and they married. My dad already had three children from a previous marriage but it was important to my mum to have a child. They had some complications while trying to conceive so had to go through IVF treatment. In my mums words, Each menstruation brought grief and mourning. Eventually, on the third try, she conceived.

My mum was desperate to have a daughter. She knew due to the fertility issues they had, she would likely have only one child. She prayed for a girl. When asking people whether they would like their baby to be a boy or a girl the usual answer is, I dont mind as long as its healthy, but that was not my mums response. She had picked out only girls names and was certain of the fact. I often joke with her that her desperation to have a daughter resulted in my trans identity.

Apparently, the moment I was born, she anxiously asked her mother, Well, what is it? To which my grandmother replied, Its a boy! My mum was horrified, but the doctor quickly interjected and explained I was indeed a girl. My mum was relieved. I wish I could have spoken on behalf of myself then and there; I could have avoided a lot of issues down the track.

I was born into a Jewish family, consisting of a mother (thirty-eight), father (forty-two), half-brother (thirteen), other half-brother (twelve) and half-sister (ten). My dad is Israeli and my mum was born in Australia. Her parents were Holocaust survivors from Eastern Europe who immigrated to Australia during the war.

I was a confident and outspoken child. I would put on performances for my parents and their friends. A friend of my mothers once told her I would either end up as prime minister of Australia, or in jail the jurys still out on that one.

It is commonly thought that children are aware of their own gender from about the age of three. At age four I was set on the fact I was a boy. I refused to go to the girls section at department stores and would only wear clothing designated for boys. Whenever people referred to me as a girl, I would quickly correct them. This led to a few funny instances of strangers asking my gender and my father and me arguing about it. Once, when accused of being a drama queen, my retort was, Im a drama king.

My mum was upset about all of this, as she had desperately wanted a girl, and to her that involved a certain level of femininity. She wished I would wear dresses and she hated the clothing I insisted on wearing. I liked anything with dragons, skulls or fire. Mum tried to set boundaries as to how masculine I could be. She didnt allow me to cut my hair too short and when she left the room I would instruct the hairdresser to keep cutting. She was saddened by my choices to wear suits in preference to a dress. My dad thought it was entertaining and encouraged me to wear whatever I wanted.

People were not always comfortable with my free expression. At the age of about five, a family friend invited me to her mermaid-themed birthday party. I was not interested in wearing a blue bikini like the rest of the girls; I went as a pirate. I also remember going to synagogue occasionally with my grandma and wearing a suit and kippah (the traditional Jewish head covering historically worn by boys) and the rabbi was very uncomfortable with it.

At one stage, my mum was coming home from a holiday and I went to the airport wearing a dress. I knew that despite how miserable it would make me, she would be incredibly happy and surprised; and she was. Even at a very young age I learned to compromise my own happiness to fulfil my parents expectations. Later in life when I tried to conform to femininity to fit in, I could see how happy it made my mother, despite the fact that I was lying to myself.

When I was about seven or eight, my mum and I used to go to a family friends swimming pool. I wore board shorts and swam shirtless and spent a lot of time constructing games to play by myself. One day, our friend decided I was too old to swim with my shirt off, and my mum told me I would have to start wearing a shirt. I was devastated. I didnt understand why I couldnt continue to be topless like my male friends, or brothers, or my dad. They were older than me but they were still allowed to expose their chests. My mum explained I was growing breasts, something I hadnt been aware of until that moment. I was suddenly acutely aware of my chest in a way I hadnt been before and felt the need to hide it. I felt embarrassed, ashamed and self-conscious. I wore a shirt from then on.

I had a lot of struggles in my early childhood. I began my education at a private Jewish school where my mother was a teacher at the secondary campus. Boys dominated my year level (as is usually the case in broader society), and I found myself drawn to hanging out with them over the girls. I remember some boys were quite aggressive towards me. I was bullied a lot for being a tomboy and also for my weight. I was a chubby little kid and the other kids at school often reminded me of this. These kids already had such ingrained fatphobia and misogyny. In order to fit in, I bullied other kids and that led to a lot of social issues and total loneliness. I wasnt sure how to interact with others. I really struggled to make friends and I spent a lot of time on my own.

One time, my mum and dad went on a holiday for six weeks and left me with my grandma. My mum sent messages to the parents of the kids in my class, explaining the situation and encouraging them to make as many play dates with me as they could while my parents were away. Not one person arranged a thing. I remember the effect this had on me and I still feel the pain. I cant imagine I would have been the nicest person to hang out with anyway because I was so angry all the time, but I didnt know how else to be. I wasnt receiving the support I needed. I saw a psychologist because my parents were concerned about my social issues and the fact that I was presenting as male, but I dont remember getting comfort or support from it, rather feeling like there was something wrong with me. I felt incredibly lonely most of my childhood.