Growing up in a Catholic household in southern Sydney during the 1960s and 1970s, my childhood looked ordinary. Family albums capture a shy, butter-blonde child, happily playing with dolls and cats, crafting with her grandmother, and wearing beautifully sewn frocks made by her mother. On the surface, it was the idyllic childhood. But behind that seemingly typical childhood, another narrative was unfolding—one I couldn’t voice. As a young girl, I was drawn into experiences that took years to understand and name. While the world saw a shy, creative child, there was something deeper and more complicated happening inside. During my teenage years, awkwardness became a constant companion, especially around boys.…