Gender has been a big topic in my life–much against my will. If it were up to me, I’d not think about it at all. Sadly, that is not a choice, especially the way things are going in America right now. I have often thought that if I were just left alone, I would be fine with the label ‘woman’. Meaning, if no one ever talked about it, it would be fine by default.
However. Given that people are way too consumed by the gender of people they don’t even know, I reluctantly have to think about it. To recap: I am AFAB, and for the first fifty years of my life, I begrugdingly accepted that I was a woman (especially in the eyes of others). I didn’t feel a kinship to the word, but I was fine with it. Fine.
I was not elated. I was not even happy. I did not embrace the word or really consiber it mine. It was just shorthand for being physically coded as female whilst being inner coded as ‘who the fuck knows’?
I just left it as I was a woman even if I did not feel like one. That was, however, because I didn’t truly know what a woman was supposed to be like. I’m saying this with no snark. I did not fit within the traditional/stereotypical description/definition of a woman, and I haven’t since I was a kid. I don’t like cooking, cleaning, sewing, any kind of crafting, pink, makeup, fashion, clothes (both the styling thereof and actually wearing them), etc. I did not like dolls when I was a kid; I much preferred stuffed animals.
I did not dream of my wedding or play mother and baby with my (nonexistent) dolls. The dolls I did have, I just made them have sex with each other–regardless of gender. That should have been a sign that my sexuality was YES PLEASE, but I was too repressed to recognize it at the time.
I think the only traditional female markers I have are my boobs, my hip-length hair, and my love of sappy ballads. I mean, I guess plushies are still coded female, but not quite as strongly as it was when I was a kid.
My hobbies are considered more male as well. Video games and martial arts, both with a heavy emphasis on weapons. I used to watch sports (football, baseball, and basketball, specifically), but I stopped for political reasons. Plus, I just lost interest at some point.
when I crush out on someone, I don’t want to say I don’t see gender, but it’s just not that important to me. I have mentioned several times before that K has marveled at how easily I can switch someone’s gender, and I truly think it’s because I don’t see gender as rigid–and most definitely not as a binary. In addition, I only see it as a part of someone’s whole, so I don’t get hung up on how someone should be in accordance to their gender.
In fact, one of my biggest gripes is when people want to make the definition of woman and man so narrow and rigid. Why put people in boxes/cages that can’t be expanded? It’s also a part of another pet peeve–the idea that men and women can’t be friends. There is so much wrong with that statement, I almost don’t know where to begin.
I’m not arguing that people should be friends with anyone of any gender. It’s the same with dating–people can be as discriminatory in their dating lives as they want to be (and I mean that in the broader term of discriminatory, not in the legal sense). But, it irks me when people make a definitive declaration about how Men And Women Can’t Be Friends.
Side note: I read The Rules back in the day just because I was curious. It was such a big hit, I decided to leaf through it. I knew it was going to be trash, but I didn’t realize how utter shit it wast going to be. Like, 1950 shit. The whole book was about making yourself as bland and small as possible. You are not to disagree with anything your man says. You are not to have any opinions. You are to do whatever he wants to do. You are not to demur about anything. You are not to be sarcastic or angry or anything even slightly negative. You must have a smile on your face all the time. Never raise your voice. Always have dinner on the table when your man comes home from work.
As for sex, yes, you must grit your teeth and bear it for your man. Think of England if you must, but you have to do your wifely duty whenever he’s in the mood. What, you say you’re not? That doesn’t matter. You say you want it when he doesn’t? Oh, no, no, no. That won’t do. You never want what he doesn’t or when he doesn’t. You might make him feel insecure! And that would be the end of the world.
I read the whole thing with my jaw dropped. I was sure it was satire because no one could be that retro, could they? Sadly, it was not parody. The whole thing was awful, and the last line chilled me to the bone. See, the authors wrote the book to get women to the marriage line, and then they end the book by saying that the work was not done once you got married.
By the way, one of the authors divorced while writing the book/after it got published. Which made me snicker for several minutes. Oh, the delicious irony!
This was how I was raised, by the way. And even though I resoundly rejected it, there are still remnants in my soul. Tucked down deeply, but still flaring out from time to time. I’m doing much better now than I was two decades ago, but the scars will last forever.
I just don’t fucking get gender. I have tried so hard for so long. I have filed off the rough edges and constantly bled while doing it. Because, you see, it’s never enough. Never. No matter how much I tried to tamp myself down, the real me refused to shut the fuck up.
Everything about me is wrong from a female point of view. I’m too loud, too uncouth. I’m not polished at all. If you want to be kind, you would say I’m down to earth. If you want to be cruel, you would say I’m not fit for polite society. Both of these things are true, by the way. I have spent my life keenly aware that I am not nor have ever been a good girl. And I’m fine with taht. Mostly.