On Identity: Gender
I've been trying to find a neat way of presenting this post, but I don't know if there is one. So, I've kind of imposed order on my rambling. Here's hoping it makes sense...
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I came out as genderqueer on social media last week. I didn't tell anyone in my life face-to-face until afterwards. I'm 32 and my relationship with gender has never been straightforward. I had to untangle a lot of competing narratives and internalized misogyny to reach this place of self-acceptance. While it is far from the case for everyone, I had to come to terms with femininity being valid before I could fully realized my identity as a genderqueer person.
I have never been femme. As a child, I was oft described as a tomboy and many family members lamented my resistance to dresses, skirts, and ladylike behavior. Unfortunately, this quickly evolved into being "different from other girls." I'm a geek, one of the guys. I spent a lot of time trying to hide my body under baggy clothes, though it didn't go well. As I type this, I wonder if I'm retroactively "fixing" my narrative, but I'm sure I'd see the same things in my journals from the past 25+ years.
The point is, I didn't want to be a pretty girl. I wanted to be recognized for my intelligence and personality over my appearance, which led me to project disdain onto girls and women who wanted to be pretty. It was as if their preferred presentation delegitimized me, as if we were on opposite teams in a zero-sum game. This type of imagined competition wasn't uncommon in my life - I spent most of my childhood being pit against others for a variety of reasons and my worth was directly related to how I compared. Life was built on winners and losers, and I'm a competitive person.
I have also been a very political person for as long as I can remember. Feminism has been my battle cry (though it was embedded in white liberalism for far too long...it's something I'm working on) and has fundamentally shaped my perspective on gender identity. I have been bucking traditional (white, middle-class, abled) gender roles for as long as I can remember, while shouting against double standards and stigma. I didn't know how much I had internalized these double standards until I was well into my 20s. It wasn't until the 2010s, when Tumblr posts and webcomics exposed the fallacies in proclaiming one is "not like other girls" that I saw how damaging my perspective was to...well, everyone. To be frank, and anyone who has known me can attest, I was a pedantic elitist. I didn't allow myself to experience my own femininity and I loathed women who could appreciate that side of themselves.
I also never felt at home in my body. Throughout my life, I have felt like my body was this cramped, alien cage. It's a trap, a horror, wrong in pretty much every way. I have become more comfortable with it over time, as I've come to terms with my trauma and how my body was so often used as a tool against me.
All of this culminated in my personal battle with gender. In my early 20s, I settled on "masculine woman" and it was suitable for a long time. I kept finding myself returning to it, though - especially after spending more time interacting with non-binary and trans people. I was worried that my dysphoria was "just" my trauma or that I was rejecting the expectations and stigmatization of women. I was scared that I would be taking away from other people, that I was somehow "stealing" their stories. Basically, I was allowing my imposter syndrome and my fear of being "wrong" to keep me from identifying the way that felt most comfortable for me.
There are a few things I would like you to take from my experience.
***
I came out as genderqueer on social media last week. I didn't tell anyone in my life face-to-face until afterwards. I'm 32 and my relationship with gender has never been straightforward. I had to untangle a lot of competing narratives and internalized misogyny to reach this place of self-acceptance. While it is far from the case for everyone, I had to come to terms with femininity being valid before I could fully realized my identity as a genderqueer person.
I have never been femme. As a child, I was oft described as a tomboy and many family members lamented my resistance to dresses, skirts, and ladylike behavior. Unfortunately, this quickly evolved into being "different from other girls." I'm a geek, one of the guys. I spent a lot of time trying to hide my body under baggy clothes, though it didn't go well. As I type this, I wonder if I'm retroactively "fixing" my narrative, but I'm sure I'd see the same things in my journals from the past 25+ years.
The point is, I didn't want to be a pretty girl. I wanted to be recognized for my intelligence and personality over my appearance, which led me to project disdain onto girls and women who wanted to be pretty. It was as if their preferred presentation delegitimized me, as if we were on opposite teams in a zero-sum game. This type of imagined competition wasn't uncommon in my life - I spent most of my childhood being pit against others for a variety of reasons and my worth was directly related to how I compared. Life was built on winners and losers, and I'm a competitive person.
I have also been a very political person for as long as I can remember. Feminism has been my battle cry (though it was embedded in white liberalism for far too long...it's something I'm working on) and has fundamentally shaped my perspective on gender identity. I have been bucking traditional (white, middle-class, abled) gender roles for as long as I can remember, while shouting against double standards and stigma. I didn't know how much I had internalized these double standards until I was well into my 20s. It wasn't until the 2010s, when Tumblr posts and webcomics exposed the fallacies in proclaiming one is "not like other girls" that I saw how damaging my perspective was to...well, everyone. To be frank, and anyone who has known me can attest, I was a pedantic elitist. I didn't allow myself to experience my own femininity and I loathed women who could appreciate that side of themselves.
I also never felt at home in my body. Throughout my life, I have felt like my body was this cramped, alien cage. It's a trap, a horror, wrong in pretty much every way. I have become more comfortable with it over time, as I've come to terms with my trauma and how my body was so often used as a tool against me.
All of this culminated in my personal battle with gender. In my early 20s, I settled on "masculine woman" and it was suitable for a long time. I kept finding myself returning to it, though - especially after spending more time interacting with non-binary and trans people. I was worried that my dysphoria was "just" my trauma or that I was rejecting the expectations and stigmatization of women. I was scared that I would be taking away from other people, that I was somehow "stealing" their stories. Basically, I was allowing my imposter syndrome and my fear of being "wrong" to keep me from identifying the way that felt most comfortable for me.
There are a few things I would like you to take from my experience.
- You get to determine your experience. I chose genderqueer because I love playing with gender and gender expectations. I enjoy challenging what femininity and masculinity look like. I feel like the masculine and feminine are in a complex dance, switching lead and movement. There are many people of all genders who take such a playful stance, and that doesn't make my identity (or theirs) any less valid.
- Gender is complicated. You may not understand what you're feeling or where it comes from. Your gender identity is valid and you may recognize it later in life. Everyone's story is different and everyone comes to recognize who they are over time.
- Sometimes, you need language for what you're experiencing. You might not have found the words for it, yet, and that's ok.
- Talk with people. The insights they can offer may help you understand yourself. If nothing else, it may help you better understand other people.
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