childhood memories

The Wires

“In the Darkness — Lack of Electricity” Series pt.2, plus a discussion on gender roles and expectations

A game I often played Was how much current could be relayed Across an old board with ceramic fuses That works only when it chooses

Watching my father with his tools He taught me all about electricity’s rules Initially I only had to hold the flashlight steady Until he deemed that I was ready

I learned how to fix the wires How to be skillful with the pliers In the moments that my gender didn’t matter And all my insecurities would scatter

The fuse board Continuing my series on how lack of electricity has given me some beautiful memories (part 1: “In the Darkness”), I chose to write about our old fuse board.

The fuse board had not been renovated for many years, and the constant malfunctions of the island’s electricity grid would often blow out the fuses. Another reason for the fuses to be blown was having many appliances on at the same time.

Since our house was (and still is) a rental, the owners didn’t care much about upgrading the fuse board. I think it’s been 15 years since they finally agreed to upgrade it.

How it started As a child, I was always very curious about wires and electricity. Sometimes I would pretend to be a mechanic. I had destroyed many radios because I would take them apart and then pretend to fix them. Eventually I learned how to actually fix them.

I also liked helping my father fix our old car. I enjoyed it a lot, because he was explaining every step and made sure I understand it. He did the same while repairing the fuse box and I was grateful for it.

My father worked many hours everyday, weekends included. I think connecting with him through fixing stuff was my only way of being close to him and having his undivided attention since no one else in the house cared enough about such things.

I often wonder what came first. Did I like these things anyway, or did I lead myself to believe that I like them in order to be closer to my father? I guess we’ll never know.

Gender roles What I know for certain though is that it was a way out of the strict gender roles I was expected to adhere to. Our old fuse board, and our old electrical appliances which would constantly need some fixing were giving me a safe way to navigate through my gender dysphoria without drawing too much attention on myself.

Eventually, in my early teens, my father stopped being so encouraging. I suspect my mother had something to do with it, because out of the blue he would tell me how it is “inappropriate” for me to be interested in something men do.

Both my parents went ballistic when I told them that I would like to become a mechanic, either for cars or a ship mechanic. My mother blamed my father, who would tell me many stories about his time as a mechanic.

The truth was that I was fascinated by that. I wanted to travel the world as a ship mechanic, like he did. I also wanted to have my own repair shop for cars. They made it clear that this would never happen.

Gratitude & a confession Sometimes I wonder how my life would look like now if I hadn’t become a therapist. Maybe I would have found my way to psychotherapy through another path because I feel a clear calling for it.

Regardless of that, I am grateful for all the wonderful times our old fuse box gave me. I may not be a mechanic but I cherish all the knowledge I got. Most of all though, I am grateful for the old ceramic fuses and the outdated wiring that gave me many outlets throughout my childhood and adolescence to go beyond the gender binary, even if it was for 10–15 minutes each time.

Instead of an epilogue, I have a confession to make.

I may or may not have been causing the fuse board to overload from time to time, just to have an excuse to put on my overalls, hide my hair up in a bun and under a cap, and pretend to be the island’s best genderless mechanic.