A while ago, I said that I had come to the conclusion that I was a woman. How foolish it seems to me now, but I will not delete the post; gender is a journey (especially my gender) and it seems wise to document its steps. A month or so ago I realized several things: first, that it was possible and acceptable to be agendered but to present as feminine. Second, that since I was perhaps ten years old I have been very uncomfortable being referred to with feminine pronouns.
Why present as feminine, Best Beloved? Well, feminine clothing looks better on me because of the shape of my body, which I rather like. If given the option, I would probably dress like an early 1900s train engineer, but, alas, nobody makes clothes like that for people shaped like me. In any case, most of the time I value looking good over looking gender-neutral. Of course, this probably makes it more difficult for other people to accept that I’m agendered–my family is having some problems with this, ranging from inability to use “they” as a singular pronoun to complete apathy. I hope that once I move to Massachusetts later this year I will be able to make a suitable first impression.
About my pronoun dysphoria: it makes me squirm even to imagine that someone is thinking of me as a woman. It makes me want to put on nitrile gloves and slap them gently about the face. Eugh. Horrid. I think I may also be afraid to be a woman–and can you blame me, Best Beloved? If one pays any attention at all in the right places, one hears horrors inflicted by the patriarchy on the majority gender. You know to what I’m referring. In the same way that men–individually and as a concept–terrify me, the idea of being a woman terrifies me. In the same way, most likely, as it terrifies men; in one tumblr-cited study teenaged boys said that if they woke up one morning as a girl they would kill themselves (and though I have no proper citation, it is too easy to imagine that this is true).
I wish I felt safe as a woman, but for now I shall stay firmly off to one side of the sliding scale. Perhaps in another world–ah, who knows? I’ll conclude, instead of on this rather sour note, by expressing my delight with and approval for the idea of gender as an evolving thing. I like to think of people trying out all the genders they can think of and, perhaps, settling on their favorite. Settling would of course not be remotely necessary. A nice dream, hm?