A Flower in His Hair

Oh, and I struggle with my feminine side!

Because guess what, part of this gender fuckery that goes on with me is that there is no term(s) to specify what I want, or clothing styles I can adopt that will say “me” and still not place me firmly in the butchy-girly-what-the-hell-is-it box.

I tried to come out as nonspecific genderqueer to my dad, and his initial response was “well you have to be one or the other” and I just had to blink at him. I’ve always regarded my dad as rather forward thinking, but I had forgotten, while immersing myself in this land of internet community, that forward thinking in day to day life might be accepting gay people/not being a total prick with people who don’t agree with you.

The next time I brought it up, he asked if I wanted him to say “be a girl, dammit,” and I just… no. The whole point of my gender exploration is that I don’t want to be a girl, that I have this deep and intense need to be recognized as me, not the fill-in for the stereotypical girl.

Most recently, I tried to explain why people seeing me as a girl on a regular basis hurt me, hurt my mind and distracted me from things like homework and schoolwork (and a whole course in online Latin, though that was mostly being lazy).

But sometimes, I still want to be seen as beautiful. I want to wear a dress, be proud of my breasts, and apply makeup and wear pretty shoes. But doing so is like giving ground in this fight for my own gender recognition. If I’m intentionally beautiful one day, then the people around me assume that I want to be beautiful every day.

I made the comment on tumblr a few weeks ago that even when I’m presenting as a girl, I’m still trans*. That is a trans*feminine expression for me, because female is not my inherent and internal default. Every time I slide into a gender that our society has a description for, it’s solely by chance. It’s nothing to do with my sex, or my sexuality, or anything like that.

I just don’t know how to do it. Even now, sitting in a Starbucks and wearing a bra instead of my binder, hair still far longer than I’d like it, I feel like I’m doing it wrong. Because the person I am ideally doesn’t look feminine, but can dress like it when they want.

One day I’ll figure this stuff out, be in a place where I can get the clothes that fit my mind, the haircut that makes people question who I am. I just hope that I can make it work, and live my life as wholly me, instead of trapped on the sometimes-wrong side of a stupidly binary spectrum.



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