![]() I could hit the ball harder than the boys, anyway, so why would I want to be one?” “I didn’t really know if I wanted to be a boy,” Scholinski writes, “but I wanted to go shirtless outside in summer and play rough. The painting is reproduced as the cover of Scholinski’s new memoir, “The Last Time I Wore a Dress” (Riverhead Books, written with Jane Meredith Adams), an affecting chronicle of an adolescence spent in mental hospitals, where doctors attributed her rebellious behavior and tomboy look and preferences to gender identity disorder-her failure to act like a girl. “I’m not crazy,” Scholinski has scrawled underneath. In the corner stands an image of an agonized figure straight out of Rodin’s Burghers of Calais, large, meaty hands gripping his head, his feet bleeding into antiseptic tiles. A large canvas hangs in the hallway outside her small studio in a collective art space in a warehouse in San Francisco’s Potrero Hill neighborhood. ![]() In the daytime, Daphne Scholinski tries to paint away her nightmares. She wakes, startled and exhausted, and runs to the bathroom, where she throws up. She whimpers, her girlfriend tells her later, then stops breathing altogether. She is being chased by something or someone unidentifiable, swallowed bodily by this great force, her personality dissolving like salt thrown into boiling water. ![]() ![]() ![]() Even now, 13 years later, the dreams come almost every week. ![]()
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