If you have ever talked to me in person, you know that I go to camp. It’s a big part of my identity. It will be mentioned within five minutes of meeting me and I will probably tell you a camp story. I’ve decided that adding a camp story section to my blog would be fun. It might also have to do with the fact that if I run out of post ideas I can just talk about camp things. So here is my first campfire chat. I was going to use this for a publication and then got stuck, but I’m glad it can find a home here.
I have grown up at a Girl Scout camp in northern New Jersey. I was a camper for seven years. If this year’s programs were not cancelled due to COVID-19, it would have been my eighth summer on staff. I worked my way up from camper, to kitchen staff, up the unit staff chain, to the administrative team. As the years passed I started to pay more attention to how the kids and staff interact with each other, their surroundings, and themselves. It not only taught me that camp is a place where people learn new skills and make new friends, but there is also something very freeing about being given the chance to create an authentic version of yourself, even if it is just for a week.
Almost every meal is eaten in the dining hall. Kids get a chance to find a table with their friends from different units, their favorite unit counselors, or a table close to the front for the chance at getting their French fries a minute and a half before the other tables. One morning, as I was sitting at my table waiting for the kids to come in for breakfast. A typical morning. I was too tired to notice who was around me or that I hadn’t even grabbed my mug so that I could grab my morning tea with 9 packets of sugar to wake me up. What did wake me up that morning was a group of kids barreling towards my table yelling “MAKE SURE WE CAN ALL GET SEATS!” I looked up to find a group of children I didn’t know all rushing the chairs at my table. I go through my normal routine during a meal. “Good morning everyone! What’s everybody’s name and what program are you doing this week?” The kid sitting directly to my right looked at me and said “my name is Liam*. I used he/him pronouns, and I’m doing ‘grand tour’.” I don’t think I heard any of the other children introduce themselves. This is a Girl Scout camp. Why hadn’t I thought that little trans kids would come to Girl Scout camp. The meal continued like any normal breakfast would until I asked “Why did you all come to my table this morning? You all raced to my table and I have never met any of you before this meal.” The kids looked at each other waiting for one to reveal a secret that only they knew. Finally, Liam spoke, “My counselor told us to come sit with you because you’re… cool.” Cool. I looked around the table at children with very gender non conforming looks. I looked at myself. Oh. Now I know why I’m “cool.”
The meal continued like any other meal in the dining hall. Seconds and take backs moved as normal. As we were cleaning up Liam looked at me and said “If you see my parents when they come pick me up can you not use my name and pronouns?” The chance of me seeing this kid getting picked up was slim to none. I was a unit leader at the time, there were things to clean during parent pick up. I hadn’t actually watched parents pick up since I was 16 and on lost and found duty. Finally, I looked at him and said “of course. Are you coming anymore weeks this summer?” “Nope! Just this one, but I had a lot of fun. Hopefully I’ll be back next summer!” He was grinning ear to ear. Looking at him I realized that this was one week that he got to be himself.
The next summer I was on the admin team. I am almost positive that I didn’t see Liam. Every week I went through every single child’s information sheet. I realized I didn’t know Liams given name. The parents of the child fill out the information sheet so I could have seen it and just moved right past it. During meals I would sit with the other admin and also be running around the dining hall looking for specific people. He only sat with me for that one meal so if you asked me to pick him out of a line up I probably couldn’t do it. But I hope he did come back. Or if he didn’t that he found a camp for trans kids where he could be himself. I hope he is out there, living his best life.
*Name changed for personal privacy