More musings about gender. Yesterday, I was talking about my confusions as to the concept. And, how I got along better with guys when I was in my teens and twenties than I did with women. I mentioned how it was so much a cool girl thing. “I’m not like the other girls.” I would make fun of other women when the guys did, and it felt good to be in on the inner circle. It took me many years to realize that I was there on sufferance. As long as I laughed at the silly girls, I was accepted. If I stepped out of that narrow confines, then I would have been one of those silly girls, too.
Here’s where it gets more complicated. Most of my interests are coded as male. From a young age, I had have been told constistently that I am too loud, too boisterous, not feminine enough, etc. As I said in the last post, much of this came from my mother. I should not sit with my legs uncrossed. I should not run. I should not climb trees. I should not, should not, should not.
As a young girl, it seemed to me that there was so much I could not do as a girl. That’s why I wanted to be a boy. Not because I thought I was one, but because I envied the freedom they had. More accurately, that I thought they had, but it’s the same at that age.
I had no interest in makeup, clothes, dolls, cooking, or sewing. When I was a kid, i got picked on all the time. All I wanted to do was read. I read for hours so I could escape the world and my life.
In tandem, my mother was a firm believer in her kids learning things all the time. Very much a tiger mom in mentality, though she did not push it as far as other Asian moms. I took dance classes from the time I was two until I was twelve. I took piano lessons for a few years, and then played the cello from age eight until eighteen. I played t-ball and softball while a youth and teen; tennis and table tennis recreationally. We went to summer school every year as well.
I’m not saying all of this was bad, but I will say that it didn’t feel great not to have any choice in the matter. Same with things like going to the State Fair every year. I hated it. My brother loved it. We had competing issues, and she chose to placate him over me. I can understand it now, but it doesn’t make it better. To be clear, my brothe in probably autistic and I’m very sensitive to noise, crowds, etc. I hated going, but he loved it. Since he was a terror as a kid, she did whatever she could to get him to shut up and ignored my distress. She definitely treated us differently based on our gender, which did nothing for my depression issues and my non-existent self-esteem.