It’s Good To Be Accepted
Straight Genderqueer Woman
I very specifically titled this blog “Straight Genderqueer Woman” because when I try to find people who might be like me, Google only comes up with this stuff. But I KNOW I can’t be alone. I am a unique, precious, ass-kicking flower. But it can’t be because I’m the only straight, genderqueer, woman in the world. (Born female sexed. Does this make me cis-gendered genderqueer? So confusing!) So I’m floating this out there to let other straight women out there who are challenging gender roles know they’re not alone.
I’m actually uncomfortable sometimes describing myself as “genderqueer.” I don’t want to co-opt a descriptor that’s not accurate and offend somebody. I really feel like it’s society’s expectations of how I should look and behave as a woman to be what is queer. That’s really the challenge I wrestle with the most in my head.
I struggle with the dichotomy between how I want to look and act, and how I think I have to look and act to attract men. So often this makes me think I’m doing something wrong, or am a broken woman or not a good enough woman.
But on the genderqueer side, I do remember feeling for a long time earlier in my life that I wasn’t a man or a woman. I didn’t even know that was a THING people could feel. It didn’t disturb me. It was just who I was.
I don’t feel that as greatly now, but I will tell you that when I look at women who are dressed very femininely, in short skirts and high heels, I don’t feel like I have anything in common with them gender-wise. (I also find myself thinking they’re stupid for dressing that way and I get angry at them. But it’s OK. I’m sure that’s something my therapist and I will get into….)
So whatever labels you paste on me, (’cause lawd knows I struggle to use the politically correct, culturally sensitive ones) just know that I’m me. I’m Deanna. And I’m trying to feel like that’s OK.
And know, that no matter what the internet says, if you are a woman who wants to look androgynous or like “a guy” and you’re into men, you’re OK too. And you’re not alone.
And guys, if you’re into this kind of thing, you’re single, you have a job, you’re kind, and you shower regularly, hit me up!
Also, my “Gender Roles Are Dead” sweatshirt is available from FLAVNT!
Links of the Week – February 27, 2015
* 10 Ways To Be Her True Life Superhero
* How I Feel About My Responsibilities
* Christianity Without The Cross
* 24 Times Your Favorite Kids’ Cartoons Suddenly Got Really Deep
* Fun With Kirk And Spock – (WHY do I not own this book?)
* 27 Times Tumblr Used Art History Perfectly To Make A Point
* How We Talk About Our Teachers – (Turns out we use different descriptors depending on if they’re male or female)
* Star Trek Spock With Ears Socks
* The “Golden Years” Are Gone: Why Retirement Is Hell For Women – (Oh good. Something else to look forward to.)
* How Much I Was Distressed During “Fox and the Hound”
* Game Day Program – Ohio State vs. Indiana – Thanksgiving Day 1903 – (So cool!)
* When I Hide In The Bathroom Stall Until I Hear My Coworker Leave So I Don’t Have To Make Small Talk With Them – (Every time.)
* Check Out Ambidextrous Pitcher Pat Vendittes’ Chthulu-Like Glove
* Adventure Time Oreo Necklaces
* Subway Riders Can Be Animals – (Awesome paintings!)
* You’re Not Happy Because You Never Learned To Be
* The Emory Wheel Editorial Board: Gender Neutral Pronouns Necessary For Inclusivity
* Just Let Them Kiss Already: Why Are TV Shows Are So Weird About Male Relationships?
* I Can Haz Cheezburger?: Extrovert vs. Introvert – (As illustrated by cats…)
* Why Each Sign Is Dangerous – (Scorpio)
* Stained Glass Backboards Are Completely Unnecessary And Beautiful
* 10 Things I Wish I Knew At The Beginning Of Sobriety
* 19 Anti-Social Motivational Posters That I Really Want To Hang In My Office
* Study: What Are The Most Addictive Foods? – (This is why I have frozen pizza six nights a week…)
* “My Mom Can Kick Your Ass” Kid’s T-Shirt
* After His Brother’s Suicide , Writer Seeks Comfort “In All The Wrong Places”
* Get The Picture: Stubborn Is As Stubborn Does – (You can only do so much)
* 19 Pictures That Will Hurt Your Fragile Soul – (Owwwwwwwwwww!)
* The Refuge: A Healing Place – Depression
* The Center: A Place For Hope
* Photos: Evan Gattis The Astro
* Unlocking “The Woman Code”: 4 Tips To Know Your Value
* Unexpressed Emotions, Rage And Depression
* NASA Sees “Bright Spots” On Dwarf Planet In Our Solar System – ( OoO )
* This Wondrous Dutch Light Installation Mimics The Northern Lights – ( ❤ ❤ ❤ )
* A Tortured Soul, Josh Hamilton’s Battle Was Never Over
* GPS In Shoulder Pads: Vanderbilt Goes High Tech
* The Frisco RoughRiders Have Your New Favorite Presidential MiLB Logo – (Must have a cap with Big Head Teddy!)
* Reviewing My 2015 Goals Thusfar – (11 out of 26. Eh.)
“As other girls prayed for handsomeness in a lover, or for wealth, or for power, or for poetry, she had prayed fervently: let him be kind.”
– A Spy In The House Of Love, Anaïs Nin
“I turned over in bed and listened to the traffic in the rain. A few cold, clear truths rose one by one through my consciousness like a flock of birds: I wasn’t even remotely worthy of William and I wasn’t ever going to have him; I’d asked my mother to lend me money and she’d said no; I’d given all the change to the cabdriver; no one was going to pay off my debts; no one would save me from myself. I fell asleep to the soft beating of wings in my head.”
– In The Drink, Kate Christensen
“One fine spring morning I awoke in my own bed alone, with an ache in every orifice and a memory of bending over on the Christopher Street Pier at four in the morning with my drawers around my ankles while John stood behind me, holding my hips. As I gripped a piling to keep from tumbling into the Hudson, I gazed down into the filthy water and thought gaily to myself, Well, here I am, and this is me.”
– In The Drink, Kate Christensen
“Throughout these long afternoons outside with her, I was always conscious of being a speck at the bottom of a vast, ragged bowl of rock under the empty sky, buried in the silence and heat, surrounded by blank sand. The foothills, with their gray-green mesquite fur, rolled away to faraway mountains that sat sharp-spined on the horizon, unconnected to the valley floor, as if they’d been set down ready-made. The buttes and mesas to the west glowed deep red; veins of magenta and green spidered along rock formations shaped like tablets or giant hands, stacked in layers of cinnabar, crimson, brick. Masses of clouds echoed the rock shapes in their charcoal or ocher strata, wind-shaped crags so dense they looked mineral. The air was thick with the breath of sage and hot dust. At sunset the air hung low, striated like a weird plowed field of pigmented earth, backlighting the mountains with shirred, neon clouds, leaching all the color from the rocks, abstracting the bushes to dark cutouts. The wind moved like a huge hand through the valley, filling me with a restless, empty impatience I later identified as loneliness.”
– In The Drink, Kate Christensen