More on that gender train. All aboooooard! Read yesterday’s post for more context. Here’s the thing. In my ideal world, gender would be as important as the person wanted it to be. In other words, if someone deeply feels their gender, then that would be respected. If someone didn’t care about gender, that would be respected as well. I’m someone in the latter category, and I would be happy just to float by in life and never have my gender be commented on.
It’s not about ignoring my gender, exactly. Well, I guess it is. But it’s because in most cases, my gender is not important to what is going on. It’s hard to explain the difference. I was not ashamed of who I was when I defined myself as a woman. I just was startled when someone felt the need to point it out. Either as a ‘hey ladies’ kind of thing orjust wanting to talk about ‘us women’. The latter wasn’t so startling when I identified as a woman, but the former always annoyed me. It’s an in-group versus out-group mentality. The former is inclusive whereas the latter is othering.
It’s interesting. On Ask A Manager, there are a bunch of women who prefer to be genderless at work because they are in male-dominated industries. That’s why they balk at adding their pronouns to their email signature. Some also use their intitials rather than their names, and while it makes me sad, I understand why they do it, and I agree with it to a certain extent, but if there wasn’t sexism or gender-based expectations…well, then it wouldn’t be this world, would it?
That’s such the issue, and it’s with everything. My idealistic side says, “Why can’t we just treat people as they are? Why do we have to treat them differently because they’re ____ or _____ or ____?” Which is ridiclously naive. Of course we are going to treat people differently based on our perception of the categories in which we slot them.
I talk about heuristics a lot. In part, it’s beacuse I love the word. But in another part, it’s because what are we if we don’t have them? We cannot take each instance that occurs as separate and without context because, well, ain’t nobody got time for that. In addition, it’s useful to make connections where there are some. Plus, groups are stronger than individuals, which is why it’s good to have labels in general. But, personally, there just aren’t any that really feel true to who I am.
It’s always a question of ‘good enough’. I remember when I first realized I was attracted to men and women (thirty years ago, it was just those two categories), I thought long and hard about what I wanted to call myself. I didn’t like any of the options, so I reluctantly defausted to ‘bisexual’.
This is my life. I have a mania for precision and truth because my parents have always been fast and furious with reality. My father just saw things through his lens which never lined up with reality. My mother retconned everything so that if she didn’t like the way it made her look. She would forget it ever happened, which drove me crazy. I started questioning myself because she would blatantly refute something I knew happened.I used to think she was lying or in denial, but recently, I saw this happen in real time. My father chased her into the living room, shouting at her. She was crying, and it just got uglier from there. I stepped in, raised my voice at him, and pretty much shut it down.
Later, like two days later, my mother reprimanded me for raising my voice in response to him shouting. I looked at her shaprly and asked if she remembered why I had been yelling at him in the first place. When she shook her head, I reminded her that he had chased her into the room and was yelling at her. Her face fell, and she said she didn’t remember that. She wasn’t lying. she had taught herself to forget anything unpleasant, probably as a coping mechanism for the abuse my father dished out to her.
My brother has told me that he doesn’t remember negative things, either. Such as, when he told my parents (and me) that he was engaged, my mother freaked out. she questioned him, said he was too young, and told him he should just live with his fiancee. She would not shut the fuck up. It got so bad, my brother stormed out and spent the night at his fiancee’s. I asked if he had told her what my mother had said, and he said of course. Oh, and it turned out that my father had offered him a sports car if he married a Taiwanese woman. Sigh.
I mentioned this to my brother a few months ago, and he had no recollection. He told me he didn’t remember the negative things, which was fascinating to me. As a result, I am very careful to note things down because I don’t need anyone gaslighting me. Funnily, since I died twice and came back twice, my memory is shit. I forget little things all the time. But not the big things. Or the bad things.
I want things to accurately define me, but I don’t know if that’s even possible.The thing is that heuristics are just that–estimates. Same with pronouns and any other shorthand. There just is no way to be your authentic self at every moment of the day. Nor is it really desirable. Not to mention that we aren’t the same all the time because different asppects of your personality matter come out in different situations. This is all normal, and I have no problem adapting to my circumstances.
I just wish I could fit in better than I do. I know there are other people like me in various aspects of my personality, but I just can’t seem to find them. It’s probably on me to do better.