Labels

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.

Goddammit.

Advertisements

More fun with gender labels

So, I saw this post on Tumblr:

anonymous asked:Please tell me what it means to be a woman if it doesn’t mean a person with a vagina. If you remove biological femaleness from the definition of “woman” you’re left with stereotypes related to femininity. If you then try to remove the stereotypes, you’re left with a word that defines absolutely nothing, and is useful to no one. & making a word that is important to the discussion of systematic oppression into meaningless window dressing is fucking bullshit.coolben94 answered:nothing means anything. welcome to the world.manslator:

jennytrout:

Behold in wonder as Anonymous reinforces the archaic ideal of gender as determined by genitals! Marvel at the simultaneous dismissal of cis women as merely a bag of stereotypes with a vag attached!

Manslation: Women, please explain your humanity to me because right now all that’s coming to mind is a walking vagina wearing lipstick and high heels. I can only understand you so long as you are reduced to a sex organ and a bunch of bullshit cliches. If I can’t stuff you into a box based on your genitals, you’re of no use to me. Watch as I pretend to care about discussions of systemic oppression while transphobia pours from every single one of my orifices.

I wanted to reply as follows but am frankly too chicken to do so under my real name – as I’ve written before, I have trouble couching this shit in ways that people won’t get pissed by. Writing about it here feels less vulnerable.

So here’s the thing.

If

woman doesn’t mean “person who has a vagina (whether factory-installed or surgically-installed, so to speak)

and

woman doesn’t mean “person who embodies [cultural stereotypes]

then what the fuck does it mean?

Swap woman with man and vagina with penis and I have the same exact question.

No, seriously.

Men and women (and folks of various other genders) have different vibes to me, and certainly have different qualities and are raised differently and and and…

but where the fuck is the dividing line?

I am a firm believer that we all have the right to identify our own gender. If you come up to me and say “I am a woman” or “I am a man” or II am genderfluid” or whatever, I’m not going to say “prove it!” or something. I might, if I know you really well and am feeling courageous and am pretty sure it won’t make you angry, I might be brave enough to ask, “what makes you say that? how do you know?”

I ask because I have no fucking idea what gender I am. I have no innate sense about it. I can look at myself in the mirror and think, “yeah, I see why I read as a woman, and why I sometimes read as butch,” but I don’t have an innate identification with either of those. The only gender vibes I get for myself are negative (as in, “I’m not…“).

I am 110% accepting of the gender someone tells me they are.

I just wish someone would explain how they know, because then maybe I could figure my own out.

WTF DO NOT GROK

So I saw this Tumblr post.

And almost reblogged it, adding:

How do you tell if you’re a woman in spite of not being ladylike or if you’re agender/genderqueer/whateverthefuck and not being ladylike is part of that? I get told a lot that just because I don’t feel feminine doesn’t mean I’m not a woman, but at this point I seriously have no idea what “being a woman” even is. 

aaaaaaaaand then remembered that oh right my Tumblr is under my legal name and I’m not 100% out as not comprehending gender or being genderqueer or whatever the fuck I am and so I decided to post it here instead.

“get told a lot” is probably an overstatement, given that I don’t talk about this shit all that much outside this teeny blog and my irregular posts, but the times I’ve been told it feels like being punched in the gut. Like a pat on the head and “there there we know better than you, of course you’re a woman” and just.. ugh.