Gender? I Hardly Know Her

    Growing up, people always thought I was my sister when it came to our names. She has a commonly-known-as-a-boys-name and I don’t, but because of my essence, people thought that name suited me more. I would frequently be called a tomboy and even more frequently be mistaken as a boy. Dressing femininely never looked as dainty, graceful, or elegant as I wanted it to due to the fact the shape of my body is stockier and, beside the boobs I now have half of, not particularly curvy. In fact, partially why I got that breast reduction was to feel smaller and delicate. I never felt like I could look as lady-like as some of my friends and that eventually got me questioning. What even is feminine or masculine? Why are there differences, and if the differences change so much over time, why do they matter? Not everyone has a Marilyn Monroe or Harrison Ford shaped body. Clothes are going to vary in how they sit on each individual. And it’s not just clothing. Lengths of hair, shapes of face, heights and weights, it all comes into play and it all changes every so often. With the variety of cultures and religions, it’s impossible to narrow down the epitome of masculinity or femininity. Nevertheless, when the people around you, strangers and not, make assumptions on who you are, what you’re like, the sexuality you probably have, solely because of certain stereotypes, it can really confuse you. I have felt wrong in my skin for so long because I did not fit into what was expected. I like to play around with different ideas. Once I found the words gender-nonconforming, I instantly clicked with it. I like to portray myself as everything from a pile of clothes trudging around running errands, to a glamorous masterpiece waltzing off to prom. I don’t have one style. I don’t have one appearance. But I don’t want people to see one thing and assume everything. Why does it matter if I wear flannels or baggy pants or show a bit of figure in a flattering dress? Clothes are clothes. Makeup is makeup. Hair is hair. These are all things that can change and enhance and subdue and express a person. Why must some things be reserved for one gender and not another? And why, when a person of one gender “breaks the norm” must then be interrogated as to what their identity really is or where their sexual preference lies? Let us look how we want to look. Let these boundaries be broken so we can use the full potential of fashion creativity without judgement and questions and assumptions.
    This is important to note, because what we look like on the outside, does not always reflect the inside. As I’ve said, I’ve felt wrong in my skin for most of my being, ever since I was a child. Much was due to people saying I should look different, but a lot was also due to how I felt internally. When I would play make believe games with my sister, I would often pretend to be a boy. But I still liked to play a girl nearly as much. When I got older, I contemplated if I actually wanted to transition to a man. But I decided that I wanted to do that out of fear of men and from the trauma I have that was caused by men. I figured I’d only want to do that for safety reasons. After more contemplation though, and a gender identity crisis, I thought, mayhaps there’s more reason than the trauma, but something always held me back. After my second identity crisis, I came to the conclusion that I would regret fully transitioning because I didn’t want to lose being a woman. And thus I learned a new term: genderfluid. A term I thought was rubbish when I heard people talk about it. How does one identify as a woman one day, and a man another? Yet here we are. Some days I feel as one or the other, some days I feel as neither or both. This was solidified when I wore a simple crop top and a plain skater skirt and, instead of feeling like a cute girl on a casual Saturday, I felt like a cute lad in more “girly” clothes. And I thought, “huh, perhaps I’m not just gender nonconforming with my appearance”. What we look like on the outside, does not always reflect the inside. 
    Believe me, I’ve been in a weird, confused state over the last few weeks. When I went to Pride though, I was getting somewhat choked up because I felt like I belonged with all these individuals that defy what society has forced upon us, what wants us to think is “normal”. When I picked out “she/her” and “they/them” pins to go along with my “he/him” one that a friend bought as a joke that now is a reality, I felt comfortable and good and right. Brains are strange, that is known, why is something like this so unbelievable anyway? North American indiginous have two-spirited people part of their tribes and culture, living amongst them throughout centuries. It’s nothing new, just something a lot of folk either buried, ignored, shunned, or denied. The thing is though, I am no different than I was before, just more complete. I am still me. 
    I’m lucky to have so many open minded, understanding friends, many of which are part of the alphabet soup community in one way or another. With me as my fully realized self, my friend group on my island now has a good chunk of the letters checked off. We have a lesbian, a bisexual, a pansexual, an asexual, and with me having a different gender identiy than what was assigned at birth, I fall under the trans umbrella. When I was on my lunch break with one of my friends that works with me, we were cry-laughing as we looked for gender neutral names that I can go by. He-Man made us lose our minds, then there was Hobbit, Hedgehog, Hamster, Hagfish, (We were on an animal roll), Hummus, Hackberry, Hairgrass, House Hippo, Hamtaro, Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (it’s the fear of long words), Hemogoblin (incorrect but funny), Hemoglobin (correct and also funny). I wanted to stick with the H initial because my three names start with that and I couldn’t let H. H. Holmes go since sharing names with a serial killer was amusing. 
    I reckon this is a lot for those that know me and I know I never mentioned much regarding this topic before. I’ve made jokes but any seriousness I had I wrote off shortly after with the whole trauma excuse. I can see it being difficult to comprehend and I don’t blame you. This took me two different identity crises with a few months in between and a lot of years of not knowing why I feel incorrect but feeling incorrect all the same. An odd time this is indeed, but a time to hide no more.