Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: gender identity

Let’s talk about gender, part three

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One issue with being agender is that there are times when gender does need to be noted. I was having a conversation in the Discord I’m in about guys and their heights. For whatever reason, there are several guys who are very tall–like 6’4″ tall and taller. I wanted to say that as a non-male person of 5’6″, anything over 6′ tall is very tall to me. Except, that sounded weird, even to me.

I don’t mind if other people call me ‘she’, but I don’t want to apply it to myself–or woman. I thought that I was a weirdo in that, but I discovered that it’s not uncommon for someone who is agender to feel that way. Which makes sense, really. Oh, this is the post from yesterday, by the way.

I struggle to explain what agender means to me because it’s a lack of something rather than a pro-anything. It’s the same with areligious–the word focuses on what isn’t there rather than what is. With agender, it really is the right word, though, because I don’t feel gender strongly. Or even mediumly. I would say I don’t feel it hardly at all, but that isn’t possible in a highly gender-focused society as ours.

I still call myself she once in a while despite my best efforts, which I am not fond of or proud of. K mentioned that I was really good at pronouns–and I am. When someone has pronouns, that is. As I mentioned before, since gender is a loose construct to me, I don’t have a problem adapting to new pronouns. Or to put it another way, since I have very little clue what gender actually is/feels like, I can accept when people change their genders.

Every time I try to drill down what gender is, I come up empty. In the old days, there was a slew of characteristics that were designed male or female, and never the twain shall meet. I was called a tomboy because I ilked to climb trees, run around, and laugh too loudly. Until I was five or six. Then, a slew of things happened to crush that out of me until I was nothing but a depressed lump of flesh.

Though I did not know it then, that was the beginning of my dissatisfaction with my gender, even if I didn’t have the vocabulary to talk about it. Except. It wasn’t my gender I had an issue with–it was how I was treated because of it. When I learned about sexism in college (along with racism, oh, and that I was bi and didn’t want kids. Yes, this was all within a year or two. It was a very rough time), it was like a light bulb went off in my head. Well, kind of.


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Let’s talk about gender

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In the last few posts, I’ve talked about how seemingly opposite ideas can be true at the same time. In the latest one, I wandered into the topic of gender, which is something I think about now and again. Why? Because it’s an anathema to me, yet it’s something many people take as a given. And, especially now, it’s being talked about, villified, and scrutinized under a very powerful lens.

I have checked in with myself from time to time to see how I feel about gender.

Oh! Before I get into that, I want to expand on something I mentioned in yesterday’s post–how identity is not static.

When I was in my twenties, I realized I was attracted to women as well as men (only two acknowledged gender identities thirty years ago). The emphasis back then was that sexual identity was not a lifestyle or a choice, but something you were born into. I didn’t agree with that entirely. I mean, I was born being attracted to people of various genders, but I could have chosen to go one way or the other.

Also, I didn’t like the narrative that we should be tolerated because we can’t help being non-straight. “It’s not a choice,” so the saying went. “I was born this way!” While I agree that this is true, I also hasten to add that I would have absolutely chosen to be this way. I love being bi because it means that I can romance/sex up anyone of any gender. Theoretically, that just opens up my possibilities, which I’m all for.

This leads me to my current tentative label of agender. I feel it’s the spiritual cousin to bisexual in that it’s about shedding gender labels or realizing they are just one of many different traits a person can have.

I want to be respectful of people whose genders are integral to who they are and who feel their gender in their very bones. I know that I have it easier than many others (trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer folk). It’s the same as being bi is easier than being gay, and being Asian is easier than being black.

But in both of the latter cases, there are ways in which it’s really hard precisely because of the lesser difficulty thing. What I mean is that racism against Asian is ignored, and biphobia is glossed over. Agender isn’t even a thing most people recognize. I would throw areligious in there, but that’s not a big deal at all. Mainly because I don’t ever have to mention it.

The few times I’ve talked about agender is mixed company, I’ve either gotten nothing in response (as in total silence) or a negative reaction. Like, a really outsized negative reaction. It shocked me, frankly, because to me, I was making a fairly tame comment and nothing to get upset about. But the reactions from these women (and, yes, it’s always been women) have been so over-the-top.


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It’s not easy being me

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I don’t want to be normal. I have gotten past that for the most part, and I know that I would be miserable trying to be a normie. I mean, I try to fit in as best as I can without making it uncomfortable for me, but at the heart of it and me, I would be so much happier if I could just let my freak flag fly.

But I know that I am too much for the gen pop. Even people who don’t consider themselves normies are, for the most part, more normal than I am. Except for the true freaks. I’m not enough on the  fringe for them. I’m a weirdo in so many ways, but I’m also straitlaced in that I don’t drink or do drugs. There are many reasons for that, but it makes it difficult for me to fit into the artistic scene.

Here’s the thing. Sometimes, when I’m really down,I wish I was normal. I wish I was not neurodivergent. I wish I was white, and one of the binary gender (cran’t go quite as far as to wish I were a man). I wish I wasn’t a night owl.

By the way, that is so hard to change. I remember being six or seven and stuffing a t-shirt or towel under my door so I could read until midnight. I taught myself to read around age four. I would read until around midnight and then fall asleep. It did not matter what time I went to bed–I just could not sleep until eleven or midnight.

I say this because I know that it’s hard on parents when their kids don’t want to go to bed at what is considered an appropriate time, but it’s no picnic for the kid, either. I will admit that I have shitty bedtime practices, but no matter what I do, I cannot go to bed before midnight. These days, it’s more like 4 or 5 a.m.

The only time I’ve been able to sleep on a normal schedule was after my medical crisis, and I was heavily drugged at the time. And recuperating from dying. When I went to bed a week after waking up, I was still extremely heavily drugged. And very tired. I had no problem going to bed at ten or so and getting up at six. This lasted until the drugs wore off and my parents went back to Taiwan.

Now, I’m back to an opposite-than-normal people sleep schedule, and I’m not happy about it. Mostly, though, because I’m very aware that it’s considered bad/deviant/lazy. Every time I manage to claw my sleep schedule to going to bed at one or so, I can’t keep it up.


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Even more about gender and martial arts

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Back again to talk more about gender and martial arts. I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I had to slow down the rate at which I was teaching myself because I was messing some things up. For example, I recently re-taught myself the Fan Form because I realized I had forgotten whole chunks of it. Now, I have found out there are a few places that I’m fudging things. In other words, I need to go watch the videos again.

There are two problems when it comes to me learning martial arts forms. One, my memory is shit since my medical crisis.so I forget that which I have already learn. Not all of it, obviously, but enough to make it disconcerting. Weirdly, though, I am not being hard on myself about it. In the old days, I would call myself names and silently (or not so silently) scold myself for being stupid. This is the pressure of being raised in a hypercritical family.

I feel free, light, and airy when I’m doing my weapon forms. Sometimes, though, I feel fierce, strong, and ready to beat the shit out of someone. Not in real life, but in my mind. I don’t want to get into a fight for real, but I want to be in fighting form.

Working on my weapon forms helps with my depression and anxiety. Both have spiked lately, in a large part because of the landscape of America right now. When I can focus my anixiety and anger on a specific target, even if it’s imaginary, it really helps.

I really groove with combining the karambit and the fan. They could not be more different as weapons.. The karambit is a fast, small dagger that is meant to be used in quick movements. It’s fast, and indeed, furious. It’s dangerous. It’s meant to kill quickly. Maximum damage in a minimal amount of time.

The fan, on the other hand, is languid, slow-moving, and stealthy. You’re not going to see it coming in part beacuse you’re not going to think to worry about a fan. That’s just something you use to cool yourself down when it’s too hot, isn’t it? It’s a weapon that will lower someone’s guard and then I can poke them in the throat with it while their attention is on the karambit.

It really is the yin and the yang of weapons. I picked them to go together because they were roughly the same size (very roughly), but that’s it. They just work well together. I can’t tell you why other than what I’ve already said and good vibes.


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Even more about gender and martial arts

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I’m still on that gender/martial arts tip. And on that mental health tip. Here is my post from yesterday about how I am smarter than most therapists. I know how that sounds, but it’s true. No, smarts aren’t everything, but they are something. And for me, I cannot respect someone I can manipulate. One of the best things about my last therapist was that she would call me out on my shit. She was a psychologist, which I vibe much better with than the social worker mindset.

Here’s my issue with finding a therapist. I need someone who understands being a person of East Asian descent living in Midwest America. Then, toss in grief and family dysfunction, and we are narrowing the field rapidly. If I dare say queer, well, we might as well shut this shit down now. I know that I can’t have everything I want in a therapist, but it’s really hard to pare it down to the essentials.

I am a firm believer in therapy. I think it can be so helpful, and I got a lot from my last thearpist. But I had to go through half-a-dozen mediocre therapists before that. They ranged from bad to blah. One was really bad, but it wasn’t completely her fault. Another was nice, but inept. Another I can’t remember at all. My last therapist was the best, but she had her blind spots as well. She was focused on mother issues, which meant at times she was  biased for mothers in a way that was not helpful to me.

But the one thing I appreciated the most about her was the she called me on my shit. As I said, I had the tendency to talk circles around my therapists, but she would not let me do that. She would listen to me talk for several minutes. Then, she would cut me of and say something pithy. Early in our relationship, after one of my long ramblings, she said, “Minna, thinking is what got you into your troubles; it’s not going to get you out of it.” I protested, but she was right. Or rather, she was not wrong. I had the tendency to talk myself in circles without actually getting anywhere. I could get deep in the weeds without even touching on the actual isue. Much like my writing, come to think of it.

My point is, while I believe in therapy, I have a hard time doing it myself. The last time I tried, I looked at a popular website that is pushed by content creators. I was horrified by how it was run, though, and when I did more research into it, I realized that it was not good. Not just for potential clients, but also for the therapists who were working for it.


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More about gender, martial arts, and life in general

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My brother stopped by today to drop off my Premium Elite 2 Xbox Controller or whatever it’s called. I’m being flippant, but it’s by far the best controller I’ve ever had. I was wavering because it’s not cheap, but Ian swayed me because he has it and loves it. Once I got my hands on it, I realized that it was truly several cuts above the rest. Now that I have it back, I’m so happy. I tried it out, and it just felt so right in my hands. My one gripe is the reason my brother had it for a month–the left bumper stopped working all the time. It worked maybe a third of the time, which was even more infuriating than if it didn’t happen at all.

I looked it up, and it was a known problem for this expensive controller. Apparently, they cheaped out on the bumper buttons, which means that people have issues with them. This is, frankly, unacceptable for the amount of money we’re paying for them. Well, I say it’s unacceptable, but clearly it’s not. Would I buy it again? Sadly, yes. Because it’s just that much better than any other controller (expect for that one issue). I will say that it’s somewhat on me because I’ve dropped it several times. Still. I’ve dropped all my controllers several times, and this is the first time I’ve broken a bumper.

The other thing my brother wanted to do was to natter on about his newest obsession–espresso-making. He was not a drinker of coffee for all of his life. Then, his GF inherited an espresso machine, and now my brother is hooked. True to his nature, he bought an expensive machine and an app that monitors it from his phone. Plus other accessories that added up to a prettty penny.

I joked that of course he went hard on it once he got interested because that was how he do. I was also laughing beacuse that’s how I do as well. For me, it’s the weapons. I am so obsessed by them. Right now, I am learning the Cane Form with my saber after watching my teacher’s teacher do it. I have learned three of the four rows, and as I’ve said before, doing the Cane Form with the saber made both forms really click for me.

Here’s yesterday’s post about gender, martial arts, and more.

Listening to my teacher’s teacher talk about the cane and the saber made something go off in my brain. Before, I was struggling with both. Not the forms per se, but with how I felt about them. This is where the arts part comes in for me. The weapons need precision, yes, and it’s definitely martial, but the arts part is all about the feel for me. I’ve talked about how I relate to each weapon–and about how I’m vibing with them.

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Talking more about gender and health

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In the last several posts, I have been musing about health. In general, yes, but also more specific aspects of it. I want to do better with my health, and I have been thinking of ways to do so without going overboard. In the last post, I was talking about how I would be OK with being called a woman if there wasn’t so much damn sexism that came with it. It’s everywhere, and while I don’t think I can escape it simply by quitting out of the gender assigned to me, I don’t want to engage with it, either.

I’m not going to get into anyone’s face about it because it’s not a hill I want to die on, but it’s just tiring to have to think about it at all. In an Ask A Manager thread I was reading, someone mentioned that it took longer for women to get ready because they had to do their makeup and dressing was more elaborate/difficult for men than women. I am not disputing that in general, but I didn’t relate to it, either. I haven’t worn makeup on a regular basis since I was in my twenties, and even then it was even more because I thought  I was supposed to than anything else.

I didn’t even try makeup until I was in my late teens. I hated it because I was allergic to everything and makeup was made of really bad shit at the time. This was nearly forty years ago. I would get rashes from it, and it would itch and make me want to take it off. when I gave it up, it was such a relief. I will fully admit that I was terrible at putting it on, too. Whatever girl gene (and yes that’s fully ironic) there was for putting on makeup, I did not get it at all. I looked like someone had punched me in the face whenever I tried to wear makeup, which is not a good look. Or it could just be me being self-conscious because it felt so fake.

I will say that now, knowing that my motor skills are not great, it makes a lot of sense that I had a hard time putting on makeup. You need a steady hand for that, which I did not have. I was always in fear of poking myself in the eye when putting on mascara, and I never could do it evenly.

I have read/heard so many women talk about why they feel a need to wear it, and I cannot relate to any of them. I can get them on a cognitive level, but not on a visceral one. Besides the sensation issue, I just don’t get why it would be a positive to wear makeup. Again, I’m not talking about in a social sense because I get why someone would do it for that reason, but on a personal level.

This is one of the reasosn I eschewed the ‘woman’ label. Along with wearing a bra. Which, much to my surprise, some women have very strong feelings about it being WRONG for a woman to go out in public without one. This was on a work blog, and the question was about can an AFAB person be considered professional at work if they didn’t wear a bra. They made sure to clarify that they were covering their nipples so the nipples were not poking through their shirt and they were double-covering (with blazers and such). They had taken the bra off for the pandemic (if I remember correctly) and did not want to put it back on again.

Naively, I thought that there would be a robust discussion, but that people would be ‘live and let live’ about it. These were progressive (mostly) women who declared themselves to be feminists. Yes, they may wear bras themselves, but they would probably support someone who didn’t want to wear one. Right?


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Gender identity, weapons, and femininity

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In talking about my health, I went way off the rails as is my wont. But, it’s related to my health in a way. Yesterday’s post was about gender identity and how I have been shunned by womanhood all my life. Here’s the reason I call myself agender for now. In an ideal world that did not care what a person did in regards to their gender, I would be fine with being labeled a woman. My issues with my body are solely societally-based and not anything to do with my body itself. I love my boobs and my ass (now that I have one!), and I’m fine with my pussy. I like having curves, and the mixture of hard and soft that is my body. I have no issues with the fact that I am not feminine at all (except for my long hair and the shape of my body, the latter which I have no control over). I have mostly masculine interests (weapons, video games, and I used to be very into sports), which bothers me not a whit. I don’t wear makeup or a bra, and I strride rather than walk.

I am more comfortable–let me put it this way. I have been mistaken on the phone for a man–well, all the time. I’m called sir, and I’m fine with that. It’s usually me calling customer service so it did not matter in the least. I have an exceptionally low voice–double alto–and I like it that way.

This is the thing. I like myself for the most part. At least the parts of me that are considered problematic for other people. I am perfectly fine with not wearing a bra, with not wearing makeup, and with being ‘masculine’. If I didn’t find the word androgynous to be stifling (basically, it’s like unisex–it means like a man. Why can’t androgynous include parts of the feminine? Fortunately, it seems to begoing more in that direction these days), I would embrace it.

Side note: This is one of my problems with the English language and the way I think. There really is juust no way for me to explain myself in the common vernacular without sounding precious/pretentious. There’s a group in America (don’t know if they’re still around) called ‘No Labels’. They tried to claim that they wanted to move away from the Republican/Democrat binary, but it was just billionaires who wanted to head an oligarchy.

I really don’t like labels, though, because none of them fit for me. Asian American? Sure, in the technical sense. My heritage is Taiwanese, and I was born in America. But I’m more American who looks Asian. Religion-wise, I’m areligious in that I just don’t give a shit. Sexuality? I would like to just say I’m queer, but that’s been coopted to mean gay. Same with BIPOC meaning black. I always preferred minority, anyway.


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Let’s talk about gender…again

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Let’s talk about gender, shall we? We shall because it’s my blog and I can do what I want. Also because gender is important–and yet, I wish it weren’t. Let me hastily add that I don’t want to take gender away from anyone for whom it’s important. My BFF, K, and I have discussed whether or not ‘they’ will take over gender proclamations in our lifetime (instead of he and/or she). This was before the election, by the way. All bets are off now.

We were both hopeful that we were moving towrds a society in which gender was not as emphasized as it is now. Or rather,, that the toxic, sexist ideas of gender would subside.

I can’t help but laugh bitterly at that idea now after said election. Never in my lifetime has equality seemed more like a dream. I have read about queers hastily marrying before the exchange of power because they fear that marriage equality would be repealed.

This should not even be on the menu. Civil rights should never be able to be voted away/legislated. And yet, here we are. Marriage equality became law in 2015. Almost a decade later, we are fearing that it will be whisked away again. Before it became the law of the land, I was talking about it with K. I did not think it would happen in our lifetime (I was the doubting Thom in our friendship) while she was convinced it would. I begrudgingly said maybe, but only when we were in our seventies or eighties. It was less than five years later when it became a reality. I was stunned, in a good way. It honestly happened faster than I could comprehend, but I willingly accepted it as a positive thing.

I did not care about marriage equality persosnally because I don’t believe in marriage (for me), but I cared about it from a social justice perspective because I firmly believe in equality. If straight people get to be miserably yoked together, then so should queers! I kid, but not exactly.

I honestly do not understand why straights are so against marriage equality when it has nothing to do with them. But wait. This post was not going to be about that–but it’s related. Those who have rigid ideas about gender are more likely to be anti-queer, too.

See how I tied it back to the point of this post?

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Gender on my mind redux

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Still thinking about gender. I wish I could quit it, but I just can’t. In the last post, I ended by saying that I didn’t know what feeling like a woman meant. I wasn’t being snarky because I really don’t know. I probed my insides quite thoroughly and came up with nothing. Again, I am not railing against being a woman because I don’t feel my body is wrong–at least not for the so-called lady bits. Yes, I hated it for other reasnos, but nothing to do with the perceived gender of it.

Or rather, not for the reason of gender itself. What I mean is that I got flack for being a woman. A lot of it. Very different from men than from women, but it was definitely based on me being perceived as a woman.

In tandem with this, I struggle with the ‘cool girl’ syndrome and if it’s always as toxic as people say it is. If the woman who is  saying, “I’m not like other women.” and “I just don’t get along with any women.” is also saying, “Women are so full of drama!” and “Women are the worst”, then, yes, it’s ‘cool girl’ syndrome.

However. There are women or AFAB (like me) who aren’t very feminine at all. Bull dykes are a thing (even if they no longer go by that. That’s what they called themselves in my heyday), which is not what I am. I just read up on stone butches and stone femmes, and I don’t fit into those categories, either.

Here’s the thing. I n general, I don’t care about categories. I do have a type when it comes to physical looks that I find attractive (kd lang, Alan Rickman (first as Snape and then as himself), and my new favorite, Erika Ishii). Dark hair, androgynous, and wicked smart/into social justice. I have not dated many people with that look, though.

I know how this is going to sound, but I’m going to say it, anyway. I really don’t understand…hm. I don’t know exactly how to say this. Let me muse it out. As I mentioned, I do have a type, but it’s not hard and fast. I am attracted to someone for many different reasons, some of them more healthy than the others. Looks are but one, though, and probably low on the list of traits that I really care about.

That’s not the controversial thing. That comes when we’re talking about sex. I know we weren’t, but I’m going to, anyway. When I was looking up stone butch, I was shocked to read that the definition definitely meant that they did not receive sexual pleasure on their genitalia from their partners. Ever. And a stone femme (which I didn’t know even was a term) does not give sexual pleasure.


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