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Robin never had to worry about if she was a girl. She thought she was, when she was a kid, but then she wanted to kiss a girl, so she knew that wasn't it. She never had to question her gender because it always seemed simple. She was always she, though, the same way she was a girl, and the same way she liked boys.
The kids in middle school called Robin a lesbian, because she couldn't hide well enough. Her friend was a dyke, because he didn't hide at all. He told his teachers he was a boy and his girlfriends that he was a girl. Robin watched and wished she was almost a dyke like him.
Robin the boy who liked girls and Robin the girl who pretended to like boys decided to just be Robin who liked girls. It was easier to just stop thinking about it, and the constant deaths were distraction enough. A girl fell off a cliff, and Robin was gay. The grocery windows shattered, and Robin was gay.
There was a Soviet lab under the mall, and Robin was gay.
When Steve told Robin that he was a boy and a girl, she smiled at him. "Me, too," she said, "sort of."
"I'm bisexual," Steve said. "That's my gender."
"I'm a lesbian," Robin responded. "That's my gender, too."