Why hyper-femme? Every questionnaire-type thing you fill out requests gender. You pick female or male, depending on what your nether bits look like. What if the You who is defined by a mind, a soul and character rather than external aspects isn’t comfortable with that assigned gender? Perhaps you don’t consider yourself as having a defined gender. Perhaps you are just a person, that should be enough.
In my earlier teenage years, I was undeniably androgynous looking, a combination of being tall for my age and gender (until everyone else shot up and I stopped, leaving me at the average female height), wearing baggy clothes because Mum simply couldn’t afford to buy new ones if I grew faster than anticipated (I didn’t), having short hair and an unusually husky voice.
I have allegedly ‘grown into’ my looks; I now look stereotypically feminine (‘dainty, diminutive, delicate…’ etc ad nauseum) although still not particularly pretty. This is a development I dislike– the assumption that the external factors reflect the internal, and what I hate is that I never realised this until prejudicial remarks were tossed in my direction A quiet, generally reserved person, the more comfortable I become around people, the more spitfire tendencies come out, the more they realize that I’m not the usual female. They then conclude that I’m ‘a feminist dyke’, which is often meant as an insult, although it’s a stereotype that rather evokes glee for me. These are the people I have met, who live around me. I have only come across barricades and limits. This will change.
Before I read any new feminist writings that critique the ‘hyper-femme’, I would have assumed the term merely meant ‘very feminine’ rather than ‘very much adhering to feminine stereotype and superficiality’. My ideal of hyper-femininity is just being a damn person first, a woman second, without any adhesive terms, without having to consider social stigma before you speak, without having to fit someone else’s criterion. Perhaps I have the term totally wrong – it could be hyper-feminist instead. I have one vagina, and more opinions; which should be considered more significant in defining who I am? Is it necessary to swathe myself in skimpy pastels, scald my scalp, trowel on the greasepaint and keep my mouth shut? Should I don a habit, cross my ankles just so or walk a certain way? If I did enhance my appearance, would that make my opinion as a feminist, or as a person any less valid? The women who enjoy fashion and all of that, perhaps they are dressing for themselves and not for men. That woman, in the stilettos and miniskirt? Yeah, she’s wearing it because she feels like it, and hey, she’s a feminist as much as my flannel-and-combat wearing ass is. Perhaps neither woman defines herself by how attractive she is to males (or indeed other women). The word ‘slut’, or the negative connotations associated and it’s derogatory usage are abhorrent to me – it’s all about the context in which it is used. Promiscuity (or ‘just enjoying sexual nature’) is fine, the only immoral things are those that hurt others (murder, rape, paedophilia, dishonesty, theft etc), and as far as I’m concerned, shag every one you feel like shagging (er, provided they consent. Also, contraceptives are revolutionary, invest in a type or two, and keep healthy); but never judge another person’s actions unless they've harmed another. As long as they haven’t shoved a glass dildo up your arse then you really shouldn’t take offense at other’s sex lives. If you’ve been lucky enough to have the anal-dwelling object wrenched from your cavity and your eyes forced open, adjust to the light and join the real people.
That said, my opinion is expanding every day, it’s my prerogative to agree, disagree, form my own ideas. Even the idiots have a right to their opinion and they obviously have provided it many times. Without those small-minded fuckers (hey, maybe I am one?), no one would have anything to strive for. The future is paved because we complain, because of curiosity. I have realized I think far too much about myself, and too little about others. Pronouns cause guilt.
I do not look in the mirror before I leave the house. I shower and sunscreen up, but other than that, I'd always considered attempting to look conventionally presentable a waste of energy. I have taken to wearing unflattering apparel. Is this because I have felt objectified when I have made an effort? Yes, probably. Will I grow out of it? It’s plausible. Is it normal to be so uninterested in sex? I am told so, but I’ve tried to objectively assess why – I am terrified of making mistakes and getting hurt, so it is best to make myself interested, undergo trial and error. Sooner than I know, I will wake up older than I feel and regret not grasping my youth firmly and using the fuck out of it. I am at the age where I feel convoluted when asked to define anything about myself or my ambitions. How will I know anything about myself if I don’t make mistakes and learn?
Selfishness first. Feeling objectified may be a natural response but I'm looking to alter my perception; I’m going to wear a dress tomorrow, maybe accept a compliment, and if some grimy misogynist grabs my arse, they’ll get a nice tongue lashing that will no doubt go over their hypothetical head. I suppose despite the prevalence of ignorance the voices must continue to reasonate. I may be guilty of ignorance myself, and the process of finding out, remedying that... as cliched as it sounds, the future is so close I can almost taste it.
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