The Butterfly Manifesto

“Turn it down? You can’t turn it down, Maya,” Catherine implored as we sat at our table in the cafeteria.

“Yeah, don’t be crazy,” echoed Carla in the seat in front of us. “It’s going to be fun!”

“You’ll be the only one of us who wouldn’t be on the squad,” added Danielle next to her.

I stared at my meatloaf, awkwardly poking at it with my fork. “I’m not really cut out to be a cheerleader. You know I only tried out to support you, Cat.”

“Maya,” Carla said incredulously, “that’s exactly what a cheerleader is supposed to do!”

Catherine looked at me very seriously. “Is it because you don’t think you’ll be any good? Maya, you were great at the audition, and you really helped me out a lot to prepare.”

“No, it’s not that,” I mumbled, “I’m just…busy is all.”

It was true. After all, I was going to cash in on my April Commodore short. In addition, there would be the historical Microsoft stock-split, which would happen around my thirteenth birthday in May. This would easily double my equity, putting my account well over twenty grand. At only thirteen years old.

“Maya, just give it a chance. You know I’ll be with you,” assured Catherine.

“We all will,” encouraged the others with earnest nods.

Sensing the inevitable social suicide of my refusal, I grudgingly conceded. And so, twice a week fifteen girls who were destined to be the cheerleading clique when high school began, met after school to learn basic routines and chants. It ended up overlapping with my dance class, which I was surprisingly disappointed about. My photo shoots continued uninterrupted, since I still needed to bank up capital. I still had a portfolio to fund.

In the first few weeks we just learned tumbling and chant coordinations before moving on to extensions, preps, and thigh stands. It was dreadfully easy, and we spent most of our time goofing around. I wasn’t particularly full of spirit when we did the chants, but it turns out I had the loudest voice of the entire squad, to the surprise of almost everyone. I might have always been soft-spoken, yet when I did the chants I boomed. As a result, I was the one assigned to call out the cheers with the megaphone.

It wasn’t until June, a week before school let out for the summer, that our uniforms arrived. They were all secondhand from the school district, and everyone was excited when we got to skip the last period to dig through the boxes. I was the only one who wasn’t enthusiastic. I had been tense and feeling a little flushed for several days, and by the time the final bell rang I was feeling faint.

I got permission to skip practice and carried the box with my uniform home on the bus. Mom and Dad both worked until five, and it wasn't unusual for me to be home alone, especially in the nineties. As I started up the hill from the bus stop, I started feeling like my stomach was churning, even though I hadn’t eaten much that day. I had to stop and hunch over a couple of times, and by the time I arrived at the foot of my driveway I was sweating.

I practically burst through the front door and into the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet, doubled over, I looked down and saw a telltale spot of red. My heart stopped, and in the span of seven seconds I went from shock to anger to terror to sobbing like a baby. While Mom had had “the talk” with me and I knew full well the biology of what was happening, experiencing it firsthand shattered me into a panic. All of my adult rationale, all of my future knowledge was for nothing, and I felt a crushing sense of unpreparedness as I cried and cried, not knowing what to do besides sit in the bathroom and stare at my feet.

“I can’t deal with this,” I whimpered. “This can’t be happening to me.”

You know it had to happen eventually.

For once, the voice in my head didn’t sound like Matthew. It was small, brisk, and unmistakably mine.

“I wasn’t supposed to be this way,” I mumbled into my knees, bitterly.

Of course not. But here we are.

“It’s humiliating. It’s disgusting.”

It could be worse. At least it happened at home, and not in public. Do you remember what you’re supposed to do? Recite the list.

I sniffled. “Clean up. Change my clothes. Put in that goddamned pad. Take an ibuprofen. Repeat for the next three decades.”

Now do it.

I took a breath, shaking my head to clear myself. I sat up—slowly, since my insides were still in flux—and got to work. Holding a bunched wad of toilet paper to myself, I shuffled over to the bathroom cabinet and tore open the box of pads Mom had prepared months ago. I stripped down to my bra, and raced down to my room half-naked grabbing my school things along the way. In a flash, I changed my underwear, popped a couple of pills, and applied the pad like the package said. It felt sticky against me, reminding me that this wasn’t going away.

Turning off the lights, I lay on my bed in the dark waiting for the medicine to kick in. I wanted to feel angry, but couldn’t summon the energy. I refused to feel vulnerable or weak; half of the world had to deal with what I had to, and now it was my turn. I rolled over on my side, glancing over at the hidden nook that I kept the Butterfly Manifesto in. I scoffed, thinking that with all of the profound global events I had recorded, I hadn’t even considered writing menstruation down.

Eventually the pain started to ebb, and I glanced at the box containing my new uniform which I hadn’t even opened. I sat up, the discomfort mostly abated, and reached out to undo the tape. The blue and white uniform spilled out, and I moved my hand across the polyester threading and the school lettering. I sighed to myself.

For better or for worse, this is our life now.

I stood up and slipped into the skirt and pulled the top over my head. I felt oddly exposed; I had worn skirts hundreds of times, but there was something about this uniform that was more revealing than usual. Like it had a secret stitched into it and I couldn’t decide if I wanted someone to discover it when they looked at me, or to keep it hidden.

I went to the mirror to look at myself out of sheer curiosity. I gasped a little; I looked nearly identical to how Jane had when she was in her uniform, especially when I gathered my hair up into a ponytail. I smiled sadly.

I realized that despite my queasiness, I really needed to eat something. As I walked upstairs, I pranced around a bit, making my pleated skirt twirl, while I dug into the cabinets to get some crackers. It was while I was cutting squares of cheese that Tim came home from school, which I didn’t really register until he came into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks.

“Hey Tim,” I said as I turned to look at him, and he stood there with an odd look on his face. I felt uncomfortable, and reflexively adjusted my top. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

Tim frowned. “Why are you wearing that?” he asked, with a tinge of anger in his voice.

I looked down at myself. “We got our uniforms today, so I was just—”

“Why are you being such a girl!?” Tim interjected. “You never did girly stuff before, and now all you do is wear dresses and stuff!”

“Tim, what do you—”

“You used to be my brother!” he shouted, with tears suddenly forming in his eyes. “We used to have fun together, but now that you’re a girl you don’t want to do anything fun! And I’m just by myself now! And Mom and Dad always let you do whatever you want, but all you want is stupid girl stuff that you never did before!”

I was a little stunned. Words didn’t really form as I stood there, toying with my skirt and rubbing my ankle with the other foot awkwardly. My emotions went in six different directions, and I couldn’t decide between screaming at him or crumpling on the floor in tears.

Tim frowned aggressively, with little tears running down his cheeks. “I miss when you were my brother,” he said finally, and stomped over to the couch to sit down, hunched over.

Setting down the cheese slicer, I walked into the living room and sat next to him. His head was hung low and I set my hands in my lap. I twisted my lips, trying to think of what to say before I finally opened my mouth.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” I started. “One day I woke up, and everything changed. Before I knew it, that horrible summer happened. I was angry at first, and was sad for a long time. I still am, sometimes.”

Tim nodded, still staring at the floor. “Yeah, it was kind of weird. You were my brother and then you weren’t.”

I leaned back, pursing my lips in a sort of frown. “I guess I’m just not fighting it so much. I acted like a girl at first to get away from those doctors, but after a while it just felt comfortable. Normal.” I tilted my head towards him. “I thought you liked being the only boy.”

Tim shrugged. “You still get everything you want, and I don’t get anything. Mom and Dad still like you more than me, especially now that you’re a girl.”

I exhaled loudly. “Tim, they don’t ‘like me more’ or anything like that. And I definitely don’t get everything that I want. They had to force me to change, or else they were told something bad would happen.” I studied my feet for a few moments. “I hated being a girl for a long time, but for whatever reason…maybe I’m thinking there could be something fun about it.”

Tim snorted. “I don’t know how you find all that stuff fun. You never wanted to do dance or make-up and stuff before.”

I laughed. “Maybe I like being a little girly after all.”

“I don’t get it at all,” Tim asserted. “I would never like doing girl stuff.”

“Well, that’s why you’re not a girl.”

“I guess.” Tim paused for a moment. “I do miss having you as my brother, though.”

I nodded. “Hey, I’m still me. Matthew didn’t die, he’s still up here,” I said, poking my forehead. “Maybe I’m not your brother, but at least I’m still your sister.”

“I hope you’re not going to say you still love me or something dumb like that.”

I stuck out my tongue and shoved him. “Heck no. I may be a girl, but I can still take you out!”

Tim chuckled and shoved me back, with me slightly grimacing in pain when he did, but trying not to show it. A few minutes later, we decided to go downstairs and fire up a video game. It was like we always had done, each of us with a controller and trash talking the other like we did when we were brothers. That’s how Mom and Dad found us when they got home, and Mom swooned when she saw me in my uniform.

Privately, I told her what had happened, and she pointedly made lasagna for dinner since it was my favorite. Even Dad was overly gentle with me once Mom informed him what had occurred. The ibuprofen was starting to wear off after dinner, so I decided to go to bed early. I passed by Tim, still playing his game and blissfully unaware that anything was amiss. I turned to enter my room when I heard him pause his game.

“Maya, I think you’ll be good at cheerleading. But if you’re not, just keep doing it anyway, if you like it.”

I didn’t expect a pep talk from my little brother, and just like that he went right back to his game. I changed once again for bed after gently folding my uniform on a chair, trying not to move too much as I stared at my ceiling.

God, I am a girl. And I’m going to be a woman. It was an alien thought, but for once it didn’t terrify me. I wasn’t just Matthew puppeting a little girl’s body.

I was Maya Brown. And I had things to do.

If I could just push through these damn cramps.