Laurie Penny: Poor Little Rich Girl

When I was at school in Brighton, nobody spoke about feminism or gay rights, even though just beyond the playground walls was Kemptown, arguably one of the gayest square miles of the British Isles, stuffed with special-interest sex shops and scattered with drag queens glittering up the pavements as we waited for the school bus in our stupid posh-kid uniforms.*

Back then I didn’t have words like “genderqueer” or “non-binary” to describe my spiky tangle of teenage feelings; I only knew that I didn’t feel quite like a boy or a girl, and that I longed to wear a blazer and trousers like the boys, to cut my hair and call myself a different name. When I turned up in a suit and tie at a function to show off the scholarship kids to the governing board, I was told off by my teachers...

The Guardian.

Silly moo.

*I lived near Brighton College for many years and can not ever recall seeing 'drag queens glittering up the pavements'.