So, sometimes I think maybe it doesn’t matter what I call myself. What if I declare that my gender is just me?
But then I see statements like this:
I also see underthings.
I can’t help it. I’m a woman in her late 30s, all I think about is lingerie.
And I want that.
I want that belonging, that being the same as other people. Somehow the other labels I can put on myself don’t quite cut it in the way that a gender label would. Sure, I’m androphilic, but nobody uses that term but me as far as I can tell. I’m a [dayjob job title], but I’m more than my dayjob. I’m a cat person who also likes dogs, but that’s not the same. There’s [my true calling], but I’m more than that too, and anyway, gender is somehow different from all of those things.
Tonight, at least, it feels like the reason it bothers me so much that I don’t have a gender box to fit in comfortably yet is that I feel excluded. I feel like everybody but me knows where they fit in – but that thought comes from media, from society, from the overculture.
I know I’m not the only one who has problems with this. With as many billions of people on the planet as there are, I can’t be the only one.
So, maybe I’m the only goth in a school full of jocks and cheerleaders, but there are goths at other schools too, there must be.
But how do I find them when our thing in common is the lack of a label? Goth is just a metaphor here, I don’t have a word for what I am.
It’s hard to keep this up. Part of me wants to give in, to just pick woman as a label. If nothing else, it would make things simpler with my partner, who is a straight cis man. He’s open minded and awesome and doesn’t give me shit about my gender crap, even when it interferes with our sex life (which it does, boy howdy, does it ever; that’s a whole ‘nother post I’m not really up to writing yet), but I know things would just be simpler if I were a woman, or a butch straight woman, or something other than I hate gender it’s stupid societal bullshit and I’m sick of thinking about it.
I wish I could just let this whole issue go, but I can’t. It’s like a slightly loose tooth or a piece of gristle stuck between my molars, I can’t stop poking at it.
Interestingly, I can think of at least one other major issue in my life that has the same deal going on. I wish I could just drop it and stop reaching for a simple answer, but somehow I can’t.
…and suddenly I am reminded of what T. Thorn Coyle says about holding the yes and the no at once, and looking for a third path.
This is Another Fucking Learning Opportunity, isn’t it.