Immediately after reading this comic on Everyday Feminism, I didn't think I'd have such a strong opinion on it (I thought this was just going to be a Facebook post at first) but the more I wrote, the more I thought about it, the more it made no sense that only women can and should do the work of gender equality, that is, be feminists. Making a distinction between feminists and "pro-feminists" makes it sound like some of us get to just sit back and watch while only women can be in the movement doing the actual work. And then if you take a look at where to draw the line between feminists and pro-feminists from a non-binary perspective, it just gets messy.
The argument that men (or non-women) can't be feminists because they're allies and not part of the community is flawed because the community of women is different from the community of feminists. Being a woman does not always equate with being a feminist; it's a mode of thinking, not an innately arising state such as being gay or trans. Being a mode of thinking, and acting, which is not dependent on biology, it follows that anyone should be able to pick it up. (Hey, I just realized, is this another form of biological determinism?!)
Also, while feminism is certainly led by women, and a large part of it is about empowering women, in recent years the rhetoric of gender equality has taken a broader turn. "Feminism" now includes not only empowerment of women, but breaking down harmful stereotypes of masculinity and making space for non-binary people. I'm not necessarily saying that the term "feminism" is outdated, because women's issues do need and deserve a heavy focus, but the topic of gender equality has become more nuanced. There's work for everyone to do, and people who are not women should be doing it too. They can't (most of the time) be women, but they can be someone who supports women/gender equality, i.e. a feminist.
Furthermore, I don't necessarily think it's the case that allies can't be part of the community. When the gf and I were at Freddie's Beach Bar (a gay bar in the DC area) the weekend before last, the sense of community was palpable, even if there were plenty of straight people there. Yes, sometimes LGBTQIA+ people need a space without straight, cis people, but sometimes they can also be part of the community. It depends on the group / space, and this need can (and should be) made clear upfront. For instance, a transmasculine group I belong to usually welcomes SOFFAs (significant others, friends, family and allies), but for their "top surgery show and tell," they limit the meeting to people who have had or are interested in top surgery. This no doubt helps the people showing their post-surgery chests feel more comfortable.
I would not want to intrude on a feminist space that was women-only. (As an aside, it goes without saying that a women-only space should include transfeminine people as well, and that it should be up to the individual to decide if they're feminine enough to attend.) Since I'm not a woman, I would feel wildly uncomfortable in such a space. But I would happily participate in a feminist space that was open to everyone. As an AFAB, non-binary person, there are things I can contribute to and gain from the feminist movement. There are things that cis men can contribute and gain too. Calling us "pro-feminist" puts us at a distance, like all we have to do is stand on the sidelines and cheer, when in fact the feminist movement needs all of us to actively participate.
At the end of the day, "feminist" and "pro-feminist" are just words, and actions speak louder. Just as there are bad "male feminists," there can also be good "pro-feminists" who are very active in helping the feminist cause. The social justice community loves to argue about labels, energy which could be better spent tackling injustices. Still, if I met a feminist who said that feminism is just for women, I would have to ask her if she's throwing non-binary people under the bus, if we're somehow not included in her vision of gender equality. Gender equality is for everybody. "Feminism" just happens to be the name of strongest, most well-known movement that's fighting for it. If someone's feminism doesn't include me, then I don't want any part of it either.
The upshot is, if I met someone who insisted that men be "pro-feminists" instead of feminists, I'd want to have a thorough talk with that person to see just who else is not included in her vision of feminism and femininity. Trans women? Non-binary people? I'm not saying this is a code word for trans exclusion, but it does seem to signal a lack of awareness about the spectrum of gender, to be trying to draw a line through something that's continuous and fluid. Insisting on a dichotomy between men and women is what got this whole inequality thing started in the first place, and we can only eradicate it by working together, by embracing the breadth of gender and supporting everyone's right to be themselves and be loved, happy and successful no matter what their biology, and not by making the movement an exclusive club.
Basically, if someone wants to have a group or space that's only for women feminists, then that's fine. Sometimes I want to just be with other non-binary people to talk about our non-binary issues. But if someone's vision of the whole movement is "by women, for women," then why I should even be bothered to support it? It's not just that there seems to be nothing in it for me, but that even my support and participation are unwelcome. Meanwhile, if feminism does advocate for equality for all genders and call on the active participation of all genders as well, then why not allow us all to be part of the movement, in name as well as in action?
Showing posts with label feminism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feminism. Show all posts
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Fantasy Women Fight Back
Warning: Discusses rape and sexual assault. Also spoilers.
I meant to write about this last year after reading a post about the attempted rape scene in the Divergent movie, but never got around to it. But now I've restarted work on my massive femslash Little Mermaid retelling Surface of the Deep, and so it's time to write this post.
Because much as I hate how much rape there is in fantasy fiction as well as in slash (whether fan fiction or original), I wrote a rape scene in Surface of the Deep.
*SPOILERS*
Toward the end of the novel, one of the characters is married against her wishes, and her new husband has sex with her, which she also does not want. She goes along with it because she's trying to lie low so that she can escape from the household later. There's no physical coercion involved, and it's in keeping with and sanctioned by the Ancient Greek-like society of the novel - but she doesn't consent, so by our modern standards it's rape. And I knew that going in, and hated the fact that it had to happen to her, but I wrote it anyway. It had to happen for plot reasons, because that sex act caused something else to happen that was a crucial part of the plot.
*END SPOILERS*
I hated it not just because of the pain and unfairness inflicted on the character, but also because it made me a part of a trend of rape scenes in fantasy and slash fiction, toward which I feel squeamish and uncomfortable.
Reading Beth Lalonde's post on Medium started to clarify for me why I felt that way. I haven't seen the Divergent movie myself, but I don't think that's really required to understand the point of the article. (I haven't read the book, either, and I know there's a debate about the differences between them, but it's a little beside the point here.) *SPOILERS* Ms. Lalonde describes how the main character, Tris, fights off a would-be rapist in a sort of training simulator, and then is applauded by her trainers for successfully defending herself. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" Ms. Lalonde writes in amazement. "Have you ever seen a teenage girl fight off a rapist on camera, let alone be congratulated for it?"
Crucially, the rapist in the training simulator is a simulation of Tris's boyfriend. *END SPOILERS* So we're not just talking about an attempted rape, but an attempted date rape, which is an area where some people seem to find it difficult to understand what consent is. Ms. Lalonde compares the scene in the movie to her own experience: "I had been there, in that bedroom, with someone I liked, and I had been too afraid to hit back. Too afraid to say no." And, well, this is hard for me to say publicly, but I've been there, too.
When I look back on it, why the hell didn't I fight back? And I know that were I in that situation again, now, I would fight like hell. But it took me years of processing not just to understand but to really believe that I was not at fault for "putting myself in that situation," for letting things progress and saying no pretty late in the game - to know that no fucking means no, no matter with whom, or in what state of undress, or whether I said yes to something else five minutes ago. That every inch of my body is mine to control, and that I can tell someone stop if and whenever I feel uncomfortable.
And I can enforce it.
This was what I took away from Ms. Lalonde's post about Divergent. That far too often in the media - fantasy fiction being my preferred segment of it - women are depicted as the passive victims of rape culture, whether it's our culture or a made-up culture loosely modeled on some past period. Ms. Lalonde points out:
Take my character from Surface of the Deep, for instance. Given her personality, would she really take a sexual assault lying down? (OK..sorry..terrible pun.) Hell no! She's tough, determined, and oh, she trained as a soldier for a while and was ready to go to war to find her fiance, and she just happens to be armed with a knife during the rape scene. How could I be so stupid? She would fight like hell, she would win, and then she would find some other way to escape.
By the same token, as well as characters (often women, but not always) who enforce their consent or refusal, we also need other characters (often men, but not always - in Surface, this actually happens with a female character) who ask for consent and respect refusals and boundaries. We need visions of societies that are past the problem of rape culture, where respect for everyone's bodies is the norm. That's not to say that rape can never happen in fantasy fiction - after all, we shouldn't ignore the problem either - but it shouldn't be a constant, unavoidable fixture, which fantasy women are helpless to resist.
That's not all, though. There's a much worse issue with rape that especially comes to the fore in slash fiction, though it's pretty common in regular fantasy fiction, too, and that's the eroticization of rape. There seems to be a whole subgenre of slash fiction devoted to "questionable" consent and even unquestionable rape, and the way it's written is intended to arouse, rather than to horrify. This was the second reason why I was uncomfortable writing a rape scene in my femslash novel - I definitely did not want to be seen as someone who was writing about rape in an erotic way.
I was so uncomfortable writing about rape that I had it happen off-stage, and to make it clear that it was in no way erotic, I depicted it primarily by describing the character's distress at what happened. In this way, she is the subject rather than just a sex object - the reader sees the rape through her eyes, feels the trauma of it. In eroticized rape scenes, the character who is raped becomes an object, and even if they cry out or struggle, this is portrayed in a way that contributes to the sexual fantasy, rather than a way that brings us into the character's mind and engenders sympathy for them and horror at what's happening. And a lot of this is coming from women writers, like Mercedes Lackey, Anne McCaffrey, and Tanith Lee. How does that make sense? I would think that women would have a pretty clear idea that rape is not sexy. But I guess rape culture is so entrenched that even when women write about rape, they may find themselves making it erotic, perhaps unintentionally. After all, I couldn't sort out my own mix of arousal and squeamishness toward these sort of scenes until recently. Rape culture is a well kept secret.
Some people think that rape has no place at all in fantasy fiction. In a way that's true, in the sense that rape should have no place in our world. But it is a problem that exists in our world, and as such, it shouldn't be ignored, either. Writing about it can be used as a way of calling attention to it, standing up to it, and encouraging changes in thinking and action that can bring an end to it. These things won't be accomplished, of course, if fictional characters are mainly portrayed as the passive victims of victims of inevitable attacks, or if sexual assault is eroticized. To overcome rape culture both on and off the page, we need to do the same for our characters as we'd do for real people: listen to their consent or the refusal, know that they mean it when they say no, and enlist them to fight back.
This may not work for every character or story. Sometimes sucky things have to happen in a sucky way. But the deluge of uncontested, eroticized rapes in fantasy and slash fiction ought to be turned around so that these situations are the minority of cases; they shouldn't be the status quo. And it's up to us on the front lines, us writers and our characters, to do it.
I meant to write about this last year after reading a post about the attempted rape scene in the Divergent movie, but never got around to it. But now I've restarted work on my massive femslash Little Mermaid retelling Surface of the Deep, and so it's time to write this post.
Because much as I hate how much rape there is in fantasy fiction as well as in slash (whether fan fiction or original), I wrote a rape scene in Surface of the Deep.
*SPOILERS*
Toward the end of the novel, one of the characters is married against her wishes, and her new husband has sex with her, which she also does not want. She goes along with it because she's trying to lie low so that she can escape from the household later. There's no physical coercion involved, and it's in keeping with and sanctioned by the Ancient Greek-like society of the novel - but she doesn't consent, so by our modern standards it's rape. And I knew that going in, and hated the fact that it had to happen to her, but I wrote it anyway. It had to happen for plot reasons, because that sex act caused something else to happen that was a crucial part of the plot.
*END SPOILERS*
I hated it not just because of the pain and unfairness inflicted on the character, but also because it made me a part of a trend of rape scenes in fantasy and slash fiction, toward which I feel squeamish and uncomfortable.
Reading Beth Lalonde's post on Medium started to clarify for me why I felt that way. I haven't seen the Divergent movie myself, but I don't think that's really required to understand the point of the article. (I haven't read the book, either, and I know there's a debate about the differences between them, but it's a little beside the point here.) *SPOILERS* Ms. Lalonde describes how the main character, Tris, fights off a would-be rapist in a sort of training simulator, and then is applauded by her trainers for successfully defending herself. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" Ms. Lalonde writes in amazement. "Have you ever seen a teenage girl fight off a rapist on camera, let alone be congratulated for it?"
Crucially, the rapist in the training simulator is a simulation of Tris's boyfriend. *END SPOILERS* So we're not just talking about an attempted rape, but an attempted date rape, which is an area where some people seem to find it difficult to understand what consent is. Ms. Lalonde compares the scene in the movie to her own experience: "I had been there, in that bedroom, with someone I liked, and I had been too afraid to hit back. Too afraid to say no." And, well, this is hard for me to say publicly, but I've been there, too.
When I look back on it, why the hell didn't I fight back? And I know that were I in that situation again, now, I would fight like hell. But it took me years of processing not just to understand but to really believe that I was not at fault for "putting myself in that situation," for letting things progress and saying no pretty late in the game - to know that no fucking means no, no matter with whom, or in what state of undress, or whether I said yes to something else five minutes ago. That every inch of my body is mine to control, and that I can tell someone stop if and whenever I feel uncomfortable.
And I can enforce it.
This was what I took away from Ms. Lalonde's post about Divergent. That far too often in the media - fantasy fiction being my preferred segment of it - women are depicted as the passive victims of rape culture, whether it's our culture or a made-up culture loosely modeled on some past period. Ms. Lalonde points out:
Divergent marks the first time I have ever seen a teenage girl articulate, in no uncertain terms, that her body belongs to her. That she gets to decide who touches it, and how, and when. That her yes and her no are final, and unambiguous, and worthy of respect.Fantasy fiction, my own writing included, seems to have accepted that it's the sad lot of women to be victims of sexual assault, that no doesn't mean no, that consent will not be asked and that women's refusals will be trampled on, or even considered irrelevant, as in the socially sanctioned marriage rape in my novel. There may be some token struggle, but by and large, fantasy women don't really fight back when they are sexually assaulted, never mind kicking ass and leaving their attackers as the broken ones. (There are surely some exceptions, though, and if you know one I'd love to hear about it!)
Take my character from Surface of the Deep, for instance. Given her personality, would she really take a sexual assault lying down? (OK..sorry..terrible pun.) Hell no! She's tough, determined, and oh, she trained as a soldier for a while and was ready to go to war to find her fiance, and she just happens to be armed with a knife during the rape scene. How could I be so stupid? She would fight like hell, she would win, and then she would find some other way to escape.
By the same token, as well as characters (often women, but not always) who enforce their consent or refusal, we also need other characters (often men, but not always - in Surface, this actually happens with a female character) who ask for consent and respect refusals and boundaries. We need visions of societies that are past the problem of rape culture, where respect for everyone's bodies is the norm. That's not to say that rape can never happen in fantasy fiction - after all, we shouldn't ignore the problem either - but it shouldn't be a constant, unavoidable fixture, which fantasy women are helpless to resist.
That's not all, though. There's a much worse issue with rape that especially comes to the fore in slash fiction, though it's pretty common in regular fantasy fiction, too, and that's the eroticization of rape. There seems to be a whole subgenre of slash fiction devoted to "questionable" consent and even unquestionable rape, and the way it's written is intended to arouse, rather than to horrify. This was the second reason why I was uncomfortable writing a rape scene in my femslash novel - I definitely did not want to be seen as someone who was writing about rape in an erotic way.
I was so uncomfortable writing about rape that I had it happen off-stage, and to make it clear that it was in no way erotic, I depicted it primarily by describing the character's distress at what happened. In this way, she is the subject rather than just a sex object - the reader sees the rape through her eyes, feels the trauma of it. In eroticized rape scenes, the character who is raped becomes an object, and even if they cry out or struggle, this is portrayed in a way that contributes to the sexual fantasy, rather than a way that brings us into the character's mind and engenders sympathy for them and horror at what's happening. And a lot of this is coming from women writers, like Mercedes Lackey, Anne McCaffrey, and Tanith Lee. How does that make sense? I would think that women would have a pretty clear idea that rape is not sexy. But I guess rape culture is so entrenched that even when women write about rape, they may find themselves making it erotic, perhaps unintentionally. After all, I couldn't sort out my own mix of arousal and squeamishness toward these sort of scenes until recently. Rape culture is a well kept secret.
Some people think that rape has no place at all in fantasy fiction. In a way that's true, in the sense that rape should have no place in our world. But it is a problem that exists in our world, and as such, it shouldn't be ignored, either. Writing about it can be used as a way of calling attention to it, standing up to it, and encouraging changes in thinking and action that can bring an end to it. These things won't be accomplished, of course, if fictional characters are mainly portrayed as the passive victims of victims of inevitable attacks, or if sexual assault is eroticized. To overcome rape culture both on and off the page, we need to do the same for our characters as we'd do for real people: listen to their consent or the refusal, know that they mean it when they say no, and enlist them to fight back.
This may not work for every character or story. Sometimes sucky things have to happen in a sucky way. But the deluge of uncontested, eroticized rapes in fantasy and slash fiction ought to be turned around so that these situations are the minority of cases; they shouldn't be the status quo. And it's up to us on the front lines, us writers and our characters, to do it.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Masculinity - For everyone, defined by no one
A few days ago I read an article about why someone would date a masculine woman instead of a (cis) guy (and why you probably shouldn't even ask that question to begin with). The article doesn't directly relate to my romantic relationship, since I'm not a masculine woman or a cisgender guy. But it makes a valid point and, more importantly, to me, the way it discusses masculinity made me think about how I define my own masculinity, and masculinity in general.
The article says that "masculinity doesn't belong to any gender" and that "a man’s masculinity [is not] more authentic, more natural, [or] superior to a woman’s masculinity." Men don't have any exclusive claim on masculinity. Which makes sense to me, since I lived as a woman with masculine traits for many years, and fully support women who want to express masculinity to do so. (And now I'm the converse, a man who expresses femininity from time to time. Or maybe a lot of the time :P)
It's not just that women can be masculine, though - it's that women's (or genderqueer or trans* folks') masculinity isn't any less authentic than (cis) men's. Masculine women or queers aren't imitating cis men; they're expressing themselves in the way that feels most natural.
At least, that's what I'd like to think. But where does masculinity come from if not from how cis men act? We could call it a loose collection of behaviors and attitudes that used to be most associated with straight, cisgender men, but can now be adopted by anybody. But even defining it that way has a really gross heteronormative ring to it. Yet what is masculinity if not "how mainstream heteronormative society expects men to act"?
Masculinity is important to me, but I have a hard time pinning down exactly what it is. It's in the way I dress, the way I walk and move, the way I act toward my girlfriend, and to a lesser extent the way I interact with pretty much everyone (especially at metal concerts and martial arts dojos). But a lot of that is defined by the general consensus of "how men act" (or dress). I won't wear a lot of things that are considered "women's clothing." I try to walk and move "like a man" and I try to "be the guy" in my romantic relationship. Part of that is intense discomfort with being perceived as female, or with feeling something I'm doing or wearing is heightening the impression of me being female. I long to be seen as male so I try to do and wear the things that cis guys do.
To a point, anyway. Many a time I've said to myself, "What's the point of all this if I can't be myself?" And so I haven't cut my hair, and I sometimes wear shirts that don't quite hide my curves just because I like them so damn much, and I still love pink and purple and anything with hibiscus flower print on it. I still cry sometimes - or a lot, this past week. I would definitely argue that being willing to let out my feelings, even in tears, doesn't make me, or anyone, less of man. Some people would disagree and say that crying isn't "manly." But I also have friends who would say that expressing one's feelings is a sign of strength, and therefore, not "unmanly."
And I feel like this isn't just a thing among my friends, but that society as a whole is slowly shifting in this direction - allowing men to express their feeling more, even through tears. The idea of what's masculine is changing. And so perhaps we can't pin down what exactly masculinity is or who defines it, because it's a diverse and fluctuating concept. The idea of what constitutes "masculine" behavior varies not just from culture to culture, but from person to person. And it's constantly changing over time. Fathers are much more involved with their children now (at least, in the US) than they were in the 1950's. "Sensitive" guys are starting to be valued, and people keep telling me, "it's ok for guys to cry." My generation takes equality and egalitarianism between men and women for granted (at least in name if not always in deed) when that wasn't the case 60 years ago. And individuals and organizations are focusing on teaching healthy masculinity that doesn't contribute to sexism or relationship abuse and can lay the basis for true equality between men and women (and everyone else).
With so much change and variation, is there even any point to the concept of masculinity? At some point, will this individualistic and varied (and hopefully, progressive) spectrum of what constitutes masculinity become so broad that it's meaningless, because the definition of "masculinity" is different for every person, and ultimately it just boils down to people expressing themselves how they want, regardless of sex, gender or norms?
I think eventually we'll arrive at a freer, more progressive, more egalitarian concept of masculinity, but I don't think the concept will go away. Due to the demands of biology, I'm fairly sure the distinction (not dichotomy, or binary, but just the difference) between female and male, and with them their associated behaviors and attitudes - femininity and masculinity - will go on existing for quite some time. But the definitions will only become looser, more open to interpretation, more available to be practiced in diverse ways by various people.
So who defines masculinity? Whoever practices it does. This used to be restricted to cis men, but more and more, anyone can do it. Anyone can claim a piece of masculinity for themselves, and no one can tell them they can't or that they're doing it wrong.
The article says that "masculinity doesn't belong to any gender" and that "a man’s masculinity [is not] more authentic, more natural, [or] superior to a woman’s masculinity." Men don't have any exclusive claim on masculinity. Which makes sense to me, since I lived as a woman with masculine traits for many years, and fully support women who want to express masculinity to do so. (And now I'm the converse, a man who expresses femininity from time to time. Or maybe a lot of the time :P)
It's not just that women can be masculine, though - it's that women's (or genderqueer or trans* folks') masculinity isn't any less authentic than (cis) men's. Masculine women or queers aren't imitating cis men; they're expressing themselves in the way that feels most natural.
At least, that's what I'd like to think. But where does masculinity come from if not from how cis men act? We could call it a loose collection of behaviors and attitudes that used to be most associated with straight, cisgender men, but can now be adopted by anybody. But even defining it that way has a really gross heteronormative ring to it. Yet what is masculinity if not "how mainstream heteronormative society expects men to act"?
Masculinity is important to me, but I have a hard time pinning down exactly what it is. It's in the way I dress, the way I walk and move, the way I act toward my girlfriend, and to a lesser extent the way I interact with pretty much everyone (especially at metal concerts and martial arts dojos). But a lot of that is defined by the general consensus of "how men act" (or dress). I won't wear a lot of things that are considered "women's clothing." I try to walk and move "like a man" and I try to "be the guy" in my romantic relationship. Part of that is intense discomfort with being perceived as female, or with feeling something I'm doing or wearing is heightening the impression of me being female. I long to be seen as male so I try to do and wear the things that cis guys do.
To a point, anyway. Many a time I've said to myself, "What's the point of all this if I can't be myself?" And so I haven't cut my hair, and I sometimes wear shirts that don't quite hide my curves just because I like them so damn much, and I still love pink and purple and anything with hibiscus flower print on it. I still cry sometimes - or a lot, this past week. I would definitely argue that being willing to let out my feelings, even in tears, doesn't make me, or anyone, less of man. Some people would disagree and say that crying isn't "manly." But I also have friends who would say that expressing one's feelings is a sign of strength, and therefore, not "unmanly."
And I feel like this isn't just a thing among my friends, but that society as a whole is slowly shifting in this direction - allowing men to express their feeling more, even through tears. The idea of what's masculine is changing. And so perhaps we can't pin down what exactly masculinity is or who defines it, because it's a diverse and fluctuating concept. The idea of what constitutes "masculine" behavior varies not just from culture to culture, but from person to person. And it's constantly changing over time. Fathers are much more involved with their children now (at least, in the US) than they were in the 1950's. "Sensitive" guys are starting to be valued, and people keep telling me, "it's ok for guys to cry." My generation takes equality and egalitarianism between men and women for granted (at least in name if not always in deed) when that wasn't the case 60 years ago. And individuals and organizations are focusing on teaching healthy masculinity that doesn't contribute to sexism or relationship abuse and can lay the basis for true equality between men and women (and everyone else).
With so much change and variation, is there even any point to the concept of masculinity? At some point, will this individualistic and varied (and hopefully, progressive) spectrum of what constitutes masculinity become so broad that it's meaningless, because the definition of "masculinity" is different for every person, and ultimately it just boils down to people expressing themselves how they want, regardless of sex, gender or norms?
I think eventually we'll arrive at a freer, more progressive, more egalitarian concept of masculinity, but I don't think the concept will go away. Due to the demands of biology, I'm fairly sure the distinction (not dichotomy, or binary, but just the difference) between female and male, and with them their associated behaviors and attitudes - femininity and masculinity - will go on existing for quite some time. But the definitions will only become looser, more open to interpretation, more available to be practiced in diverse ways by various people.
So who defines masculinity? Whoever practices it does. This used to be restricted to cis men, but more and more, anyone can do it. Anyone can claim a piece of masculinity for themselves, and no one can tell them they can't or that they're doing it wrong.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
I'm Not Just a Straight Girl who Also Likes Girls
In most of my past relationships, which have generally been with men who see themselves as 100% straight, I've come to the disheartening realization that there was a part of me they didn't get, or even couldn't accept. This shouldn't have been surprising, really. It can't be easy for a guy who's used to straight girls to wrap his head around the fact that wearing a skirt feels like crossdressing to me, or that I'd like to sometimes be perceived as tough and macho rather than as the soft and sensitive person I am most of the time.
I don't really know how much of this I share with other bisexual women - whether they also feel like being "the guy" sometimes, and don't feel very feminine most of the time. I do know that I vastly prefer a relationship without prescribed gender roles, where we can make it up as we go along, and I can be the way I feel like being, not what society says a human in a female body should be like.
It's not that I want to be a guy or that I don't want to be female. I'm fine with inhabiting a female body and even with dressing in a way that shows it off to a certain degree - although I kind of hope that with my sailor arms, even girlie shirts and tank tops look a bit macho on me ;) Mainly, I just feel that I don't fit in with other women, or more like with the conventional idea of how women behave. Part of this stems from a frightening level of internalized misogyny - women are shallow creatures who only care about shopping and getting their nails done, women are catty and gossipy - yikes! Where did that come from?!
I would venture probably from my rather judgmental mother, who dislikes shopping, fancy nails, makeup and all those other things that I grew up regarding as "feminine." I suppose I didn't really have a very positive idea of what being feminine meant while I was growing up, so I tried to avoid it. But not being able to (and not wanting to) be totally masculine either, I ended up in a sort of genderless void.
I suppose as a feminist I should try to reclaim being female, redefine the gender so that I can be feminine and still open doors for people, pay for dinner on dates, push people around in mosh pits and not give a shit about nails or makeup.
The prospect of that makes me feel very tired just thinking about it, but it would probably do the world more good than me sitting around complaining about how straight guys don't accept me ;)
Update, 7/29/15: This post keeps popping up as the most popular post on my blog, and so I thought I ought to point out that it doesn't reflect how I see myself at all anymore. It was followed by this realization, and as of summer 2015, this post most accurately reflects how I see myself at this time. You can read a lot more about my identity in all these posts about gender identity and this one about my sexual orientation.
At the same time, I must acknowledge that this post about not feeling very feminine seems to resonate with a lot of female-assigned people - some of whom ended up being trans or non-binary, but also with cis women who just don't feel feminine. Based on the feedback I got right after writing this post, it seemed I had said something that a lot of female-assigned people that I knew were thinking and feeling. That's the primary reason I've left it up after all this time, when it doesn't really represent who I am anymore. It probably still speaks to someone, and if so, more power to you.
I don't really know how much of this I share with other bisexual women - whether they also feel like being "the guy" sometimes, and don't feel very feminine most of the time. I do know that I vastly prefer a relationship without prescribed gender roles, where we can make it up as we go along, and I can be the way I feel like being, not what society says a human in a female body should be like.
It's not that I want to be a guy or that I don't want to be female. I'm fine with inhabiting a female body and even with dressing in a way that shows it off to a certain degree - although I kind of hope that with my sailor arms, even girlie shirts and tank tops look a bit macho on me ;) Mainly, I just feel that I don't fit in with other women, or more like with the conventional idea of how women behave. Part of this stems from a frightening level of internalized misogyny - women are shallow creatures who only care about shopping and getting their nails done, women are catty and gossipy - yikes! Where did that come from?!
I would venture probably from my rather judgmental mother, who dislikes shopping, fancy nails, makeup and all those other things that I grew up regarding as "feminine." I suppose I didn't really have a very positive idea of what being feminine meant while I was growing up, so I tried to avoid it. But not being able to (and not wanting to) be totally masculine either, I ended up in a sort of genderless void.
I suppose as a feminist I should try to reclaim being female, redefine the gender so that I can be feminine and still open doors for people, pay for dinner on dates, push people around in mosh pits and not give a shit about nails or makeup.
The prospect of that makes me feel very tired just thinking about it, but it would probably do the world more good than me sitting around complaining about how straight guys don't accept me ;)
Update, 7/29/15: This post keeps popping up as the most popular post on my blog, and so I thought I ought to point out that it doesn't reflect how I see myself at all anymore. It was followed by this realization, and as of summer 2015, this post most accurately reflects how I see myself at this time. You can read a lot more about my identity in all these posts about gender identity and this one about my sexual orientation.
At the same time, I must acknowledge that this post about not feeling very feminine seems to resonate with a lot of female-assigned people - some of whom ended up being trans or non-binary, but also with cis women who just don't feel feminine. Based on the feedback I got right after writing this post, it seemed I had said something that a lot of female-assigned people that I knew were thinking and feeling. That's the primary reason I've left it up after all this time, when it doesn't really represent who I am anymore. It probably still speaks to someone, and if so, more power to you.
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