Tomboy Then, Tomboy Now: Why Being Myself Never Meant I Wasn’t a Girl
On pink, dresses, figure skating but wanting to play hockey, and why not fitting the mold of a typical little girl never meant I was in the wrong body.
I’ve always considered myself a tomboy. Funny thing is, whenever I use that word around younger people today, I usually get a blank stare followed by, “What’s a tomboy?” Excuse me!?
For me, it was never complicated. A tomboy was just a girl who didn’t fit the “girly” mold. I didn’t like wearing dresses, I didn’t like the color pink (still don’t, to this day), and I’d much rather be outside roughhousing with the boys than sitting inside playing with dolls. Sports, climbing trees, playing in the dirt, playing catch — that was me. Maybe I don’t look like it to everyone now, but that’s how I grew up, and in a lot of ways, it’s still who I am.
And oh, my poor mom — she was so upset that I didn’t like pink. Honestly, she’s still upset about it. The best example? Halloween one year. I wanted to be Sleeping Beauty, and I was excited about it — but the dress? Not a chance. I remember hiding behind the chalkboard where our cubbies were, refusing to come out because I didn’t want to spend the whole day in a dress. Which was funny, really, because every girl in my school already wore jumpers — basically dresses. But a Halloween dress, and a Sleeping Beauty one that drew attention? That felt different. That was the line for me.
To make matters worse, my mom had told me that morning we weren’t actually staying at school — we were just stopping by so she could pay my tuition. What I didn’t realize until later was that she had gone inside, walked all the way around the building, and came out the front door so I wouldn’t know she had left me there. And when I finally caught on that she was gone? I was so upset. I hid behind the cubbies and refused to move. At the time, I felt betrayed. Now? I laugh every time I think about it — because honestly, I’d fight harder against wearing that dress for a day than I ever did against anyone on the playground.
I saw a clip recently of Jeff Dye talking about tomboys, which is why I am writing about this. His bigger point was about how labels can sometimes be used to isolate or influence people — and I get that. It’s a polarizing topic for sure. But honestly, the part that stuck with me wasn’t the politics of it. It was just the reminder that so many younger people today don’t even know what a tomboy is.
When I was little, it was simple. At recess, I wasn’t sitting on the swings in a skirt talking about dolls — I was out on the field playing football with the boys. Not only was I picked, but sometimes I was the one doing the picking. I’ll never forget in 3rd grade when some of the guys tried to help me convince the teacher to let me be quarterback. I had an arm, and they knew it.
But I went to a private Catholic elementary school in the early ’90s, and they weren’t about to let a little girl “get hurt” playing tackle football. So instead of handing me the ball, they handed me pom-poms. I was made to be a cheerleader. And while I went along with it, I knew deep down I belonged on the field, not cheering from the sidelines.
The same thing happened with hockey. I begged to play, but my mom didn’t want her little “princess” getting hurt. So, I got signed up for figure skating instead. And here’s the kicker — I was actually excelling at it within just a few weeks. But because it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I quit. That’s how stubborn I was as a kid. If it wasn’t going to be chasing pucks and taking shots, I wasn’t interested. Looking back now, I realize I could’ve transitioned into hockey anyway — especially since so many hockey players actually work with figure skating coaches to sharpen their skating. But back then? Forget it. I’d rather throw away something I was good at than spend another minute doing something that didn’t feel like me. I’d fight harder against a pair of sequined skates than I ever did against the boys on the ice.
And that’s another thing — even today, when I say I’m a Tomboy, the people who know what that is will respond with, “Well, you don’t look like a tomboy.” Or, “You look like a girly-girl.” As if appearances cancel out everything else. Just because I can throw on a dress or some makeup when I feel like it doesn’t mean I stopped being the kid who would rather be tossing a football or watching a hockey game than painting my nails.
That’s what being a tomboy was. It wasn’t about making some statement or rejecting anything — it was just about being yourself, even if that didn’t fit neatly into what people thought girls were “supposed” to like.
And yeah, I’m still stubborn in a lot of ways. I don’t settle if it’s not something I really want. But I’ve also grown. I’m way more open to seeing things from another perspective now, even if I don’t agree with it right away. I think that balance — hanging on to the grit of that stubborn little tomboy, while also learning to listen and grow — is what’s shaped me into who I am today.
Looking back, I’m so happy I grew up when I did. Because if I were the same kind of tomboy today that I was back then — in a world where the word itself isn’t even used anymore — chances are I’d be getting pushed into thinking I should’ve been a little boy. And that’s not what it was.
Being a tomboy never took away from me being a girl, even if I didn’t fit the typical little-girl mold. I am proud to be a girl, proud to think the way I do, and proud that I never lost that. I was allowed to be myself without being pushed into becoming something I am not.
And the truth is — I’m still that same tomboy today. I just also happen to like dresses and enjoy looking like a girly girl at times. Back then, I could be a tomboy and still be a little girl — and eventually grow into the woman I am now. I don’t think growing up in today’s society would’ve allowed me that same freedom.
That’s what a tomboy was — and that’s what a tomboy will always be.
