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nacsygen · 5 years

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i mean, if there's anywhere to suffer about gender, why not tumblr, amirite?

i've known for like at least five years now i'm...not cis. i've never been able to properly explain it, to myself or to others, but the fact that it sticks around so long tells me that, like and as unlike as my brain has tried to tell me many times before about being bi ("not gay enough") and mentally ill ("not mentally ill enough") like yeah, this is clearly a part of my identity, not just a phase or me, idk, trying to be cool or fit in among all the cool non-cis people i know, i guess???

i think what confuses me is that i don't really have much dysphoria about my physical form, really. not in my own sense of it. not without the input of other people. i'm a very small person and this has informed a lot of my life, yes. i am well below average height and have never been possessed of strength or grip to speak of (i'm the sheepish one who has to ask the girl working at the pizza place, after five minutes of trying at a booth, to open my bottle of water because my hands are just too small to have a proper adult grip). but my body is my own, and i've long since learned to live with it, and be comfortable in it. i got no complaints.

but then, people comment without any sort of prompting on aspects of my physicality, strangers, in public, all the time - whether it's the older lady at the bus stop asking how old i am and what i do to diet because i'm Just So Small! (ma'am, this is just how i am - no, i don't diet - if i stood up you could see my gut - being southern and polite is alas also a large part of my identity -), or the threateningly verbally abusive loud misogynist at the bus stop yelling at my turned back about my "skinny ass white girl legs! get some sun, bitch!", or just today, an older cracker (here in florida that is a descriptor of a culture, not a "slur") who i've ridden the same bus with many times with he and his lady friend, coming up to me while i'm standing waiting (again) for the bus and said "hello ma'am, i was just wondering, are you from The North? where are you from?" and i looked up from my book, bc again southern politeness, and said "nah, i'm from here" and pointed at the ground. "you're really not From The North? i'm sorry, i don't mean to be impolite, it's just because of your legs. they're so skinny and pale, we thought you was From The North." "No sir, I'm from right here in Florida. I just don't tan easy." "well, that was a bet I had going with that girl over there that I just lost." "yeah, sorry, sir, I'm southern born and raised." we ended up on the same bus when it got there, and as i was getting ready to disembark he said "you have a good night there, sweetie! enjoy your book!" "oh, i will." realizing the awkwardness as the bus slowly got to a stop, "sorry, i'm nice, it's all i know how to be." "alright, well, you have a good one!" (i'm pretty sure that last that i didn't even think about said more about how Southern i am than anything else i could have said.)

i know that last was a tangent, but that's the thing - i don't even think about my body as Representing Femininity until other people treat me in a different way because of it. it happens over and over, all the time, and it's the primary cause of what i've come to recognize as dysphoria. if i was a boy, if my hair was tucked up in my hat and my chest flattened, would these and many others over the years feel free to comment so freely about my body to me? i really don't think so. and that shit sucks.

to me, my body is not a Female Body, despite its resemblance to the Traditional Female Body in its curves and shapes - it is not a Female Body, it is My Body. my breasts are not female breasts, they are my thiddies and i'm really fond of how they look and like to show them off. like, artistically, they are a gift to the world. my long wavy curls are not Female Hair, they're Rockstar Hair, Fuck You, like i grew up with the old-school and grunge male rockstars i always saw as style icons (and the female rock stars too - huge long hair is a great look for everyone!). idk if it's because i'm really Just That Pansexual that i can look at my societally-hyper-feminized form - extremely petit, pale, significant boobs but no ass, skinny arms and legs - and say, you know, that could be a cute guy, right there.

i've more recently in the past few years experimented now and then more towards as gender-neutral a presentation as i can, even though that just means people see me at a distance and think i'm a pre-teen boy. and yet, people treat pre-teen boys much better than they do almost-30 petit women, is the depressing lesson i've learned from that.

I hate how much of my questioning of my gender identity is tied into negative experiences with other people and their relationships as strangers to my perceived femaleness. like, i live in a pretty nice neighborhood now, but i hate going to the local gas station bc the block around it is just...holla bingo time. last time i walked there by myself i wore knee-length loose shorts and an oversized men's plain t-shirt to go with my walking nikes and baseball cap, and i STILL got hollered at. "hey, sweetheart! you need help carrying that? hey! hey, young lady!" i did not turn - i hate acknowledging men who holler. "hey, baby, let me give you a ride to wherever you're goin! no one's gonna bother you!" i wanted to yell back "YOU. YOU'RE BOTHERING ME." but then, he was being significantly more polite than many of the people who've hollered at me over the years, so no point in engaging and hurting anybody's feelings or enduring the "i was just trying to be nice" conversation.

and that's the thing, like. i never feel bad about being percieved as female unless people are doing it in a hurtful way. matter of fact, i have no particular relationship to being female except in hurtful ways from other peoples' perceptions. my body is genderless, as i am genderless, and it is my body. it does what it's supposed to do and has treated me well for how i've treated it over the years. i'm not mad at my body about it. i'm mad at the people who think my form gives them a right to treat me in unacceptable ways for what should be a polite society. i get dysphoria from the man yelling from a work truck passing by when i'm just trying to get home from my work, "HEEEEY, LIL MAMA~!" I get dysphoria from being wished "happy mother's day!", or did back in 2014, when on break at work, and a significantly older lesbian gestured at me and said to the man in question, " does she LOOK like a mother to you??"

like listen, i like wearing cute little sundresses, or skin-tight tank tops and short-shorts. you know why? because i live in florida and it's FUCKING HOT. they are comfortable. they are easy. they are simple choices, that i am allowed to make because i am afab and present femme, and i like the way they look on me and like that i'm allowed this comfort in the heat.

i hate that wearing that for my own comfort gives people a seeming license to comment freely on my body. i hate that presenting as a woman, a "woman", means people treat me this way. i hate the bus driver that always says "hello there, little lady" when i board his bus, and i hate that he means well by it. i hate that even when i dress in my loose, masculine, don't-get-hollered-at clothes, i still get hollered at. and i find myself wondering, if i had short hair and no boobs, if i was just a 4'11" young teenage boy, would i get hollered at like this? and no. of course not.

but i don't want my gender identity to be the opposition of a negative in favor of a positive. this has gone into a series about street harrassment when in reality there are many reasons i identify more as male or non-female than because of this. i really don't feel much reason to identify as female other than solidarity with female victims of gendered and sexualized violence. which, alright, that's probably not the most positive way to feel. or reproductive health stuff. alright, that's just the body i was born with, and i don't feel much connection to it otherwise. i don't want to medically transition, i don't want to change my body, but like...

i don't really know what dysphoria actually is. is it the feeling of displacement in one's own home of self? is it feeling like everything about how everyone else views you is somehow shifted two wrong lenses over at the optometrist's office? is it just feeling like something...something's really wrong here? if so, i think i’m definitely experiencing dysphoria,.

hey, i'm maria/aril, and i'm trans. i don't know how, exactly, but i am. and here we are.

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