Genderbendy

Mom smiled at Sister Veronica. “St. Anthony of Padua.” I have to believe that she smirked. Now this was Ireland, 1963. It was still six years before Johnny Cash's hit “A Boy Named Sue.” Anything genderbendy was unheard of at the best of times, let alone in the parish church of a Catholic village with a population of 900, including surrounding farmlands. Taking a male saint's name—Mom says it was on a dare—was unheard of and, as far as I know, unreplicated since.

We can make you a dupe of the stuff you were wearing, or you can pick something out of the catalog. Or you can run home wearing a towel. Entirely up to you.” “You copied her clothes?” the sarcastic one said. “Why, you want a set? They were unisex. We could mod 'em for you, or you could rock something genderbendy. I think it'd suit you.” Now that she said it, she realized it was true. She liked the other one, Etcetera, more as a person, but this Herr von Picklepants was pretty in a way [...]