The results of my non-scientific survey are in and for the week I was called "sir" a sum total of 5 times. I think that's probably a little more than normal because I just got my hair cut but I think 2-3, depending on my interactions with the public, is about average.
Let's ponder this shall we. Yes, I keep my hair really short. No, not because I want to look like your brother Bob. (Someone actually told me that in a casino once) I keep it short because it's easier to manage and if you have ever seen my bad hair videos you will know what I am talking about with the bad hair.
Do I try to look manly? No...this is just my face. A combination of genetics and hormonal dysfunction have caused me to look more like your brother Bob than your sister. My mother was not overly feminine and she did not wear a lot of makeup, none most of the time. Thus, I have never, ever had makeup on this mug unless it was acne cover up. That is a whole different tale of woe. If you look closely at this picture you can see the subtle changes beginning that were to come from years of too much androgen in my system and my cousin will tell you that even at this young age I HATED dresses and wanted them off me as soon as possible. I was what they euphemistically called a "tom boy".
Why don't you wear more feminine clothing? Ah...here we get to the heart of the dysfunction. From a very early age...actually probably pretty close to the photo's age...around 3 or 4...I learned about predators. And no, my dad for all his faults was not responsible for this. He would have blamed me and called me a slut and that would be why he never knew what happened to me. So from a very early age I discovered that to be feminine meant you were an easy mark for predators so I tried to camouflage myself. It was not safe to be pretty. It was not safe to wear pretty dresses. It was not safe to be vulnerable. It was not safe to be a girl. Sad...but true.
As I got older I wore boys clothes for a couple of reasons. One reason was well understood by me and that was that boys clothes fit me better because I was a big girl. I have never been delicate boned and have been heavy most of my life. That's a whole different blog of trauma right there. The other reason was not so well understood by me until just recently. I knew that other than the gender appropriate undergarments I wanted nothing to do with women's clothing. That section of the store still makes me fell awkward and creeped out. It borders on a phobia that's how bad it is.
Recently I read a story by another survivor of sexual abuse and she talked about the years she spent trying to hide herself away and it suddenly dawned on me. I don't wear two t-shirts because I am self-conscious of my neck. It's to bury my cleavage even further in the dark so no one will notice it. I am creeped out by women's clothes because the whole idea of being feminine to me translates into making myself easy prey. That being said I am not transgender either. I have never had a desire to be a man. I have spent my whole life just trying to stay off their radar. This may seem silly to you because to see me now you would not think I was attractive to men or an easy mark. I often joke that I have a head start on a mugger because first he has to figure out my gender and then he has to decide if he really wants to tackle me. It's all a façade to protect the little girl you see in this photo.
That adorable, vulnerable, sweet little girl is still buried somewhere in me. She is still fearful. She still tries to hide herself behind her size and her jokes and the rest of her camouflage. She still keeps most men at a good distance. She still puts a barrier up out in public and if there are men around she will become more closed off and more wary and will put up her wall and make herself even more masculine. Like a sort of gender chameleon. Because to be noticed is to be vulnerable. To become prey. It's a feeling I just cannot tolerate.
So. Here I am. You can call me "sir" if you want. It bothers me more than it should but it's okay. You can look at me weird in the women's bathroom and you can yell at me that I am going into the "wrong" bathroom. It bothers me but that's okay. Because I am protecting that little girl in the photo from more harm. She has been through enough.
