This Is How It Always Is: Part I: Maybe Summary & Analysis

“So, gender dysphoria,” Mr. Tongo says excitedly. “Congratulations to you both! Mazel tov! How exciting!” Penn looks across the room at Mr. Tongo, who is some sort of “multi-degreed social-working therapist-magician” Rosie knows from the hospital. “Uh…thanks,” Penn says, not sure how to respond to such a strange and enthusiastic man. They should be proud, Mr. Tongo says, that Claude feels comfortable expressing his true feelings to them. It is proof, Mr. Tongo says, they are doing a good job as parents. Rosie is glad, but she wants to make sure Claude is happy, too.  

Gender dysphoria, Mr. Tongo explains, is when one’s assigned sex, or anatomy, is at odds with one’s internal gender identity. Claude might grow out of it, Mr. Tongo says, or he might be transgender, or something else. Labels aren’t important, he says. What is important, is not making a big deal out of it. Penn says they never make a big deal out of what Claude wears, and Mr. Tongo is happy to hear it, but home is only half the problem. Claude spends most of the day at school. But Claude doesn’t dress like a girl at school, Penn says. Maybe not, Mr. Tongo replies, but he may do other things, like play with dolls instead of dinosaurs and sit with the girls in the cafeteria.

Mr. Tongo continues. Children learn all sorts of things in kindergarten, and one of the things they learn is socially accepted gender roles. Rosie says they should homeschool, but Mr. Tongo says that isn’t necessary. Claude needs to learn and struggle a bit; it is good for him. Penn asks how they are supposed to teach Claude that, but Mr. Tongo says it isn’t a matter of learning as much as it is “unlearning.” They must help Claude to see that disappearing from the world is too high a price to pay for not fitting in. “Exciting!” Mr. Tongo says again. The best part about gender dysphoria, he says, is that there is nothing wrong with Claude. “Claude’s not sick!” he cries. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Mr. Tongo sends Rosie and Penn home and tells them to write all of Claude’s behavior into a journal and label it either male behavior or female behavior. As a writer, Penn thinks it will be a relatively easy exercise, but he is wrong. Many things don’t fit neatly into categories. Some things, like Claude’s dresses, are easy, but Penn isn’t sure where to put LEGOs, since they don’t seem either traditionally male or traditionally female. Penn makes a third column, but he can’t decide what to call it. “Other,” “Both,” and “Unclear” seem wrong, so he settles on “Maybe.” After the first day of journaling, Rosie and Penn split a bottle of wine and compare lists.

Rosie’s list is much different than Penn’s, and at first glance, neither one understands the other. Rosie’s list only has two columns, and almost everything falls in the girl category—even LEGOs, which Rosie noted Claude builds homes and mamas and babies with, while his brothers smash Batman into police stations. No, Penn says, she is looking at it the wrong way. Penn explains, using Rosie as an example. She is a scientist, and since women aren’t scientists, it goes into the boy column. And since her specialty is emergency medicine, which is masculine compared to pediatrics or gynecology, it goes into the boy column, too. Penn, on the other hand, is an artist, and he spends all his time cooking and cleaning, so that goes in the girl column.  

Penn thinks the whole exercise is nonsense. It is impossible to decide what traditional gender roles are when even they don’t embody them. Penn says they probably aren’t the best people for such an exercise, but Rosie disagrees. They are perfect for the exercise, she says. The next day, Claude comes home and tells Penn and Rosie that he doesn’t have any friends. They can’t believe such a thing is possible, but Claude promises them it is true. Kids at school think he is “weird,” Claude says. Rosie looks at Claude and asks him very seriously if he wants to be a girl, and Penn asks if Claude thinks he is a girl. “I don’t know,” Claude says, crying.