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justalurkrWhat got me started on this: listening to part of a Fresh Air interview on NPR concerning a new book, Trans Bodies, Trans Selves: A Resource for the Transgender Community. Terry Gross was interviewing the book's editor and two contributors, one FtoM and one MtoF man and woman. Every time I hear about transgender people or transgender issues, I always wonder a bit if I might be trans because I'm certainly not and never have been "girly."
I'm not trans, though. I'm pretty sure liking not being a boy is close enough to loving being a girl that I'm not trans. So, I thought about why I think I'm not girly, and it boiled down to:
Requirements for Appearing in Public While Female:
Heels
Hose (I'm of a Certain Age; shut up)
Skirt
Accessories
Makeup
Nail polish
Hair-do
(Secretly) Remembering one's place as the second sex
I've spent most of my life in full rebellion against all of these, openly hostile to anyone who suggested I could do better at any of them. Not that they're wrong, it would be hard to do worse than none at all.
I don't love being a girl because of that last one. I don't care how illegal the expectation is these days nor how much the boys of the world have improved, the subtle expectation is there when the chips are down (or shit gets real, as the kids were saying there for a while.)
Then things started to change, a little. I still narrow my eyes lethally at anyone who begins a sentence with "But you'd be so pretty if...," but:
Hair-do went down first. I started using mousse for the simple reason it kept my hair out of my face. There's too much of my hair to try and make it do anything else.
Accessories bit it when I took up beading in my 40s. Stringing beads is, like, the closest to instant gratification that crafting gets. Interestingly enough, I stopped accessorizing again when I had eye surgery and my close focus changed to the point where beading became uncomfortable.
Hair color went down when someone mistook me for a brunette. (Not that there's anything wrong with being brunette, it's just that I'm a redhead and don't swing that way.) When someone told me I had beautiful brown hair, Enough of my identity is tied up in being a redhead that I had the biggest O HELL NO moment in recent memory and got me to a stylist forthwith. Seriously, going gray had nothing to do with it. That had been happening for years and I was most pleased with myself for taking it gracefully as well as secretly proud to took until my late 40s to become noticeable.
Nails went down next. I read somewhere that they were 10 little canvases one could do anything with, and doing my nails became separate from societal expectations of women. Now I have 50 or 60 different colors of nail lacquer and do them every three or four days. I favor pinks and greens. Duochrome is the best.
Makeup is currently in the process of going down. Smoky eye with colors is the most fun I've had with a tiny brush in my life.
Heels and I will never mix. I long claimed to have "problem" feet, on account of extreme pronation thanks to an extra bone in there somewhere. When I realized the only "problem" was that I couldn't wear fashionable footwear as a child, I'm pretty sure my full rebellion against female sartorial standards began and what my feet looked like became somebody else's "problem."
After several years before the mast of a Fortune 500 company in the 80s, hose and I are never, ever getting back together. Even if anyone still wore them, I wouldn't.
Skirts are on the bubble. Even though I loathe pantyhose with the white hot passion of a billion fiery suns, I feel naked in a skirt without them and (unfortunately) tend to judge women in above-knee skirts with naked legs kind of hard. I'M OF A CERTAIN AGE. If I have to deal with it, so do you. Besides, I've always been more comfortable with the seating options in jeans.
The recurring theme seems to be (1) convenience (I'm looking at you, un-moussed bangs;) and (2) my ability to convert a societal expectation into a means of personal expression. I'd like to think this series of epiphanies means I'll be less hostile or judgmental, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Has this sort of thing happened to anyone else?
I'm not trans, though. I'm pretty sure liking not being a boy is close enough to loving being a girl that I'm not trans. So, I thought about why I think I'm not girly, and it boiled down to:
Requirements for Appearing in Public While Female:
Heels
Hose (I'm of a Certain Age; shut up)
Skirt
Accessories
Makeup
Nail polish
Hair-do
(Secretly) Remembering one's place as the second sex
I've spent most of my life in full rebellion against all of these, openly hostile to anyone who suggested I could do better at any of them. Not that they're wrong, it would be hard to do worse than none at all.
I don't love being a girl because of that last one. I don't care how illegal the expectation is these days nor how much the boys of the world have improved, the subtle expectation is there when the chips are down (or shit gets real, as the kids were saying there for a while.)
Then things started to change, a little. I still narrow my eyes lethally at anyone who begins a sentence with "But you'd be so pretty if...," but:
Hair-do went down first. I started using mousse for the simple reason it kept my hair out of my face. There's too much of my hair to try and make it do anything else.
Accessories bit it when I took up beading in my 40s. Stringing beads is, like, the closest to instant gratification that crafting gets. Interestingly enough, I stopped accessorizing again when I had eye surgery and my close focus changed to the point where beading became uncomfortable.
Hair color went down when someone mistook me for a brunette. (Not that there's anything wrong with being brunette, it's just that I'm a redhead and don't swing that way.) When someone told me I had beautiful brown hair, Enough of my identity is tied up in being a redhead that I had the biggest O HELL NO moment in recent memory and got me to a stylist forthwith. Seriously, going gray had nothing to do with it. That had been happening for years and I was most pleased with myself for taking it gracefully as well as secretly proud to took until my late 40s to become noticeable.
Nails went down next. I read somewhere that they were 10 little canvases one could do anything with, and doing my nails became separate from societal expectations of women. Now I have 50 or 60 different colors of nail lacquer and do them every three or four days. I favor pinks and greens. Duochrome is the best.
Makeup is currently in the process of going down. Smoky eye with colors is the most fun I've had with a tiny brush in my life.
Heels and I will never mix. I long claimed to have "problem" feet, on account of extreme pronation thanks to an extra bone in there somewhere. When I realized the only "problem" was that I couldn't wear fashionable footwear as a child, I'm pretty sure my full rebellion against female sartorial standards began and what my feet looked like became somebody else's "problem."
After several years before the mast of a Fortune 500 company in the 80s, hose and I are never, ever getting back together. Even if anyone still wore them, I wouldn't.
Skirts are on the bubble. Even though I loathe pantyhose with the white hot passion of a billion fiery suns, I feel naked in a skirt without them and (unfortunately) tend to judge women in above-knee skirts with naked legs kind of hard. I'M OF A CERTAIN AGE. If I have to deal with it, so do you. Besides, I've always been more comfortable with the seating options in jeans.
The recurring theme seems to be (1) convenience (I'm looking at you, un-moussed bangs;) and (2) my ability to convert a societal expectation into a means of personal expression. I'd like to think this series of epiphanies means I'll be less hostile or judgmental, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Has this sort of thing happened to anyone else?
no subject
Date: 2014-07-19 12:24 am (UTC)I weirdly do wear hose though. I don't like wearing socks, but can't wear shoes without something or else my feet get too sweaty and/or blistered. Hose works, and since I'm usually wearing jeans, I don't have to panic over getting a run in them.
Skirts? I don't think I even own one now. It's been at least a decade, maybe close to two.
My accessories are generally limited to earrings, four rings, and a watch. I only wear silver earrings, so I don't have to worry about matching colors. I have a friend who's acquired tons of accessories to match outfits. She still has stuff from the 80s in that collection of accessories!
I wear very little makeup, with only powder on my face most days. Ages ago, I used to wear very heavy foundation and thought I looked awesome. I did not, and it was a horror to take off at the end of the day.
The most colorful bit nowadays is eyeshadow. I started going for brighter stuff once my hair faded out. And I only dyed it because the gray came in patchy and has now evened out (plus getting it dyed was killing me when I was having migraines). I've had my hair very short since high school for various reasons, so I don't think I can call it a hair-do anymore. More of a hair-don't-get-in-my-face. ;)
Nail polish is something I want to love, but just can't spend the time on it to make it worthwhile. I love the colors available now, and I can finally wear blue nail polish and not get a second look. If they could have sent me home for that in middle school, they would have. I think they were disappointed there wasn't a rule about it.
I have never been terribly "girly", mainly because my parents never pushed that idea on me. My mother wasn't terribly girly by the time I was born (I think when you're dealing with a full-time job, helping with farm stuff, and raising an infant, no fucks are given over how you look), and my father was clueless because all his friends had boys.
The only time he ever balked was when I first got a job and he expected me to be wearing a dress. Since I wasn't working with customers in any way, and only saw a couple of co-workers each day, I vetoed that idea.
Even though I don't consider myself "girly", I do have a hygiene routine that takes time. Drives me nuts when guys literally roll out of bed, put on some pants, and they're good.
no subject
Date: 2014-07-20 11:26 am (UTC)What? I have much more patience with societal expectations of men, at least the expectations that aren't actually killing them, their families or actively depriving them of offspring in a divorce.
The Inner Judge has decided that's an excellent reason for hose, as it's not all that different from the reason I wear socks, just in the other direction. The Inner Lurkr wants to know how in hell you survive summer in Texas.
(I never said the Inner Judge was consistent.)
I go in kind of the other direction on makeup, too. No powder, it weirds me out. Something on the eyes, sometimes if I remember something on the mouth. The notion of contouring is starting to fascinate me, but that requires powder and maybe foundation under all the differently colored foundation one is smearing not-quite-at-random over one's face.
Yeah, no.
The Inner Imp of Discord would love to know how the discussion with your dad would have turned out had your new job been customer-facing. }:-)
no subject
Date: 2014-07-22 07:39 pm (UTC)Since I'm mostly indoors, the hose usually isn't an issue in the Summer. Though if I'm going somewhere not related to work, I can wear lightweight socks with tennis shoes. Socks just don't work well for me with dress shoes, even if they're the "trouser sock" style.
Due to the weird genetics that's part of the "syndrome" several in my family had/have, I still have oily skin, so if I don't put on powder, my glasses side down my nose. So it's either powder, or wiping off my nose and glasses.
My dad quickly gave up on me wearing a dress to work, when I pointed out he knew the family I was working for, and the women from the family who worked there all wore slacks or jeans.
Oh, and I thought of you when I saw this advertised on TV. :)