My physical appearance makes me look like I’m a female sexed human being so people have nearly always assumed 'she/ her' pronouns. This has never bothered me, perhaps because I feel comfortable in my body. I feel like feminine cycles and energies are a big part of my reality, as well as my socialisation as female.
As a young child, like most, I was blissfully unaware of gender rules. I played with Barbies and toy cars; started school in boys shoes (very cool I might add, with holographic dinosaurs) and a skirt. No biggie. By secondary school, I had fully accepted that I was a girl and the whole host of social expectations that went along with that. Though I do remember squirming when especially older men I didn’t know referred to me as ‘girl’, especially as often there was a tone of condescension or assumption about me that didn’t fit. I knew how to socialise as a girl, learning that complimenting another girl's outfit or hair could ease the uncertainty of a social situation. It also felt odd and arbitrary to me, and sometimes people would include me in ‘us girls’ and I would quietly feel a little like an imposter. Despite the fact that my sexuality is Queer (bi/pan sexual), I have historically had more relationships with cis men. One reason for this is that it was mostly cis-men who came onto me and I had learned to be a passive and grateful receiver of affection. Another reason is likely to be be the atmosphere of homophobia I grew up in. At school, non-heterosexuality was a cause for shame and disgust - ‘Haha you look like a dyke!’ or “Eurrghh are you a lesbian?!” Outrageously the first time I remember hearing this was from my sister when I was about 7 and I walked in on her getting changed! Needless to say I quickly learned to defend myself against such claims. When I had my first serious relationship with a woman, the way I related to my own gender shifted dramatically. As the femme in my hetero relationships, I had become accustomed to being the partner with a higher emotional intelligence, less 'practical' skills, more compassion, and more likely to be thrown about by emotional cycles. This was flipped in my lesbian relationship and I inhabited more masculine traits. In fact I often felt uncomfortably like a man, avoidant, feeling more able to show my affection through acts of service rather than actually expressing my emotions. Not to mention the changing landscape of sex and penetration. |
When my peers have babies, I’m continually struck by the way that from the moment we discover their genitalia, we make reference to it in almost every sentence about them, from then on forever more. He, he, he, he! She, she, she, she! In British culture, it’s suggested that sex/gender no-longer holds much relevance to your place in society, your personality traits, or social expectations. So the repeated gendering seems irrelevant and weirdly invasive.
I have no doubt that if I had been raised within a culture of more gender fluidity, I would be further along the queer spectrum and would inhabit this identity more fully. I probably would be more comfortable in the ways I don’t fit the mould, perhaps would have been more confident and assertive in expressing my sexual preferences. This said, as anyone who struggles to make decisions about even menial things will agree, greater choice is not without it’s drawbacks, but I look forward to hopefully supporting the younger, more accepting and genderfluid generation with these challenges in time, if and when they come. |