This post was inspired by a brief exchange of words on the way home from Tatula tonight with my NKK friends. Really, it’s just a thing that’s a complex subject for me personally, and because it’s such a confusing thing in my own head and a matter which I have never attempted to put into words, I thought I might as well go for while it was still lingering in my head.
The initial question is what percentage straight am I? To avoid an obnoxious and wordy response, I said 51%. This was mostly a response catering to the least likely amount of questioning and confusion resulting, in which case I think I succeeded. (Although that’s really a glaring cop-out on my behalf because I really was just too shy/afraid to admit some of the following things directly.)
I think, I was born a heterosexual, (since, you know, that’s something that’s decided at birth and not a choice), but my inclination toward role-reversal and femme “orientation” was developed over a lengthy chain combo of societal observations and a continuing barrage of pressures placed upon me as a male to adhere and aspire to an image of something that I was not.
The most obvious thing is that I’m short. Okay, that’s fine. A lot of people are. I would argue that being a short male is among the worst pigeonholes in which one can be placed, because there are a lot of stereotypes associated with such (I won’t get into the dirt and grime because it’s a complicated matter all on its own): we’re bitter, jealous and have some kind of badass demeanor, like we always have something to compensate for.
I’m not compensating for anything. I’m a small human. Everybody can see and obtain that information about me before they say a single word to me; and from that they can draw as many conclusions as they see fit. That’s not what I’m here to lay out tonight. The fact is that being simultaneously small and male is in itself a conundrum, given the societal assumption that the male role is inherently dominant (whatever that means).
I’ve never considered my mental status as an emotional, overly analytical and sometimes jealous human being directly indicative of weakness. These are many of the same attributes associated with women in general, without even having spoken a single word to any of them–much like the assumptions drawn about me for my height–so I’ve never considered these weaknesses… nor have I considered them results of my physical stature!
Are they related? Maybe! But I will not accept one as the result of another. If I wanted to be an alpha male badass, I could just be one. That’s a part of my privilege, short, tall or otherwise. That’s a privilege I willingly and enthusiastically forfeit in favor of the person I was born as.
I’m a heterosexual male who has sacrificed privilege in favor of persecution.
I would rather be conceived as gay, effeminate, emasculated or androgynous over any other possible preconceived notion of heterosexual male you could think of. I’d rather be seen as weak than as strong. Do I think it’s right that these labels are placed on those who break gender norms, or that these gender norms exist in the first place? Of fucking course not, but I would rather be true to myself and called a faggot than deny who I am in desperation for acceptance. I’ll be the faggot in place of every homosexual who has to suffer that sort of persecution everyday. I’ll be weak and docile in place of every female in search of independence and acknowledgment of her individuality. That’s who I am–that’s not who they are, or who they have to be. I want to be the slut and the whore in place of every girl who doesn’t. It’s not okay to be assumed as someone that you aren’t, and that goes for any gender.
So I’m breaking every gender norm in the book if at the end of the day I feel comfortable in my own skin. I’m far from hiding who I am–because I’m cool with being anything. Hate me, love me. If my height or my choice of clothes annoy you, if the fact that I shave my legs, or my hairspray, or my babydoll tees or skinny jeans, or the lisp I add to my speech or if the fact that I worry and cry when I think about what you think about me bother you in any way,
then keep on letting it bother you. Let it fester until you can’t stand it anymore.
I have my friends and they’re all I need. If you can’t see things yet the way they see things, you’ve been blind for your entire life. All you have to do is open your eyes.