Tag: gender expression

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Context: this meme.

There are at least two layers of gay/queer/LGBTQ culture at work here.

So yeah, if you think the world revolves around your cishet ass, you’re gonna be lost.

And another reason to dislike Facebook regurgitating Tumblr posts.
A Toot

Before I nuked it, I got hit with one of those Facebook memories. As it goes, it was just a meme I SHARE’d real quick for two reasons:

  • it was from Final Fantasy X, one of my all-time favorite games
  • it was gay. as. fuck.

I vaguely remember the FF fan group it was (re)posted in, and to my delight a lot of my fellow queer fans came out to have a kiki and appreciate this piece of freakin’ art:

A freeze frame of Shiva, midsnap. Captioned with "The first time you summoned Shiva in FF X and she did Diamond Dust and with a snap of he fingers your heterosexuality was GONE and you were SHOOK and you KNEW you were gay and there was NO turning back..."

But, alas, the majority of members were a straight bunch.

And they were shook.

Beside themselves.

Confused.

Harshing our freakin’ vibe with their insistence that a meme has to make sense for them, damn it! "I don’t get it!" most of them whined. "I know lesbians exist but why would this make a man gaaaaaaay? Why do our male members like this meme?????? How would this make me gaaaay?" because of course the complainers were straight men and everything has to revolve around them, even shitposts.

I called that, up there, the Shiva Snap. When you just know.

It’s who drag queens strive to be.

It’s for those who are all the stronger for being in touch with their feminine side.

It’s for those that appreciate femininity, regardless of gender. Gender be damned, really.

It’s for that tumblr user who witnessed the sheer fuck yes slay in that summoning sequence and just had to share this gospel through Tumblr and to the world. Look at the notes on this motherfucker. Put some respect on sodomymcscurvylegs’s (user)name.

It’s for those that, if you asked them, they’ll tell you why The Shiva Snap got them, specifically, and it is a varied and nuanced thing that some blogger can’t possibly pithily summarize.

One thing is clear: It’s for the queers.

I got it. They get it. We don’t need a whole dissertation on it.

But if you didn’t (and still don’t) get it:

Don’t worry your goofy head about it. It’s probably not for you. 🙂

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So for funsies, I’m making a pronouns.page account and when I’m not looking up the unfamiliar terms, I’m wrapped up in the nuances of

  • agender
  • neutrois
  • nonbinary
  • gendervoid
  • genderqueer

And. So. On.

I love noodling over stuff like this. This is why I appreciate and enjoy microlabels. For the people that need them, they can convey exactly what they mean. And for ruminating introspective overthinkers such as myself, it is like a really good snack that I can’t put down.

I started out genderqueer… then neutrois… non-binary… now I’m feeling agender nowadays. Maybe gendervoid. Definitely staticgender–

Derek from The Good Place saying "there is television static where my gender should be."
I love making these.

–and oh my glob do not get me started on xenogenders we could be here all day! and neopronouns—

Ahem.

Some are happy with their Factory Settings, but I was always one of those folx who’ll mess with the settings menu and layout and colors until I get it just right. And change them again whenever.

It’s so cool how we can just customize our experience like this. If we want to.

All this creativity. We did that. We do that.

Fascinating.

…

…Maybe I’m genderfluid on a technicality.

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If it’s one thing I’ll always love about dressing up, it’s all the accessorizing. Combinations are limitless, and your flair can be as small or large as you want it. I have a full shelf dedicated to various jewelry sets (most of it loud costume-y pieces), buttons, and pins– not to mention all the bags and purses threatening to fall on my head every time I open the closet door, and my growing collection of headbands.

My bling (we used to say that– do we still say that?) veers toward nerdy (a Kingdom Hearts necklace), pretty, quirky (chainsaw earrings), retro, and classy-because-I-had-to-be. The pins and buttons were reserved for that extra oompth and/or random silly thing. What was missing were all the pronoun buttons I amassed over the years…

I was taking a Staycation and spent a few days checking out the local queer film fest. I was having a blast, shooting the shit with new people as we got a card game started.

Then I heard it: the wrong one.

"Yo," I interject, "I use they/them." I tried to add a little humor as I pointed to my pronoun button: "It’s right here next to my cleavage. I know you’ve seen it!" The game started, and we played a few rounds until seating for that night’s film became available. The night went on, and I went home.

I was there for the last day of the film festival, too. I’m by myself this time to catch a special viewing and discussion. I was proud of myself– I mingled, was only a little awkward, and carried out a few conversations without stuttering. "I use they/them pronouns," I heard myself say, after my name, and I reminded here and there. The button by itself proved to be too subtle.

Then came the discussion portion of the morning. The producer, who I struck the strongest conversations with, went up to the podium. And pointed me out due to how excited I was about learning more BIPOC queer history. To thank me for supporting her. They used

she.

I smiled, awkwardly, trying to match our earlier enthusiasm.

The they/them button on my shirt felt so heavy. My heart behind it was breaking.

I don’t recall much of what happened after that; all a blur or blotted out over time. But I remember going home and ripping the button off and crying.

I try to be understanding when– not if– this happened in other ‘mainstream’ spaces. But there, I was surrounded by queer people. This was the crowd that was supposed to get it. But, no matter where I was, I always worked under the assumption that a button could be easily missed.

So I still declared.

And I corrected.

And that still never seemed to be enough.

I didn’t see the point in wearing pronoun buttons if everyone was just going to ignore them.

So I put them all away.

The years without them… haven’t changed much.

I get what my partners call "apology tours" when I correct someone. (Protip: just utter a quick ‘sorry’ if you must, then move on.)

I have officially Heard Them All– the excuses. And to those I can only hiss: "Don’t care. Do better."

I don’t bother correcting close-enough acquaintances. If they didn’t get it by now, they’re not going to. And they won’t be invited into my house.

Some queer spaces have been getting better, incorporating pronouns along with names in introduction circles. The trans-inclusive (or even better: exclusively trans) spaces are a breath of fresh air.

After a few years of them being shoved into a tiny drawer, I unearthed my pronoun buttons (and one pin). A lot of them were from Pride events or meetups, and my favorite pin– a little one, gold-on-white– was a birthday gift. Each one I held in my hand, remembering.

I put one on for the LGBTQ picnic last month.

It felt nice.

I may wear it some more.

A variety of they/them pronoun pins.

 

I have my oasis. My partners and allies are always willing to go to bat for me. More people have been trying and I’m sure to thank them. But beyond that?

The buttons don’t work.

The just telling you doesn’t work.

Throwing out my CashApp and keeping tabs on each mistake isn’t working either, but at least I can buy a six pack now and then.

Positive reinforcement only works if the other party actually cares, and a lot of people still don’t. What started as a joke is going to be a serious undertaking as I begin bringing a spray bottle to the function, because I might as well have fun and use the excuse to be obnoxious.

Because if I don’t laugh about it, I’ll begin crying in frustration. And, really, I’m tired of crying.

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While I was VerboseTerse, I participated in write31days one year and got incredibly introspective and detailed about my gender. Or lack of. I revisit my thoughts once in awhile, especially on those long nights when I just can’t get to sleep.

One of the webcomics I routinely follow is Dumbing of Age, and lately, Malaya had me thinking about my journey. When she’s not being a base breaker a jerkass witty person wearing bitchin’ outfits, watching her navigate college with ever-growing questions about her own gender has been… eerily familiar.

Malaya discussing how she's "probably" a woman due to how her body is.
This was my rationale for years.

I also want to note that as of this writing, Malaya’s story arc hasn’t come to its conclusion. Only Willis knows how this’ll play out, but for the audience we’re wondering, too. Is she cisgender? Transgender, after all; maybe non-binary? Does she come off as a jerkass calling out "fake" people to hide her insecurities about not knowing where exactly she falls on the gender spectrum? Where the hell did she get that top?

"The Box Marked F must be for me, because it’s my size, isn’t it? Aren’t I supposed to fit? Who am I to argue?" I’ve wondered that a lot, myself.

And the strip that ran on Oct. 16th had me thinking: did I always know?

Malaya asking, "Did you always know you're a girl?"

A common (or maybe, popularized?) trans narrative is "I’ve Always Known." Someone knew, since they were little, that they were transgender. There were always signs and little to no questioning and angst.

I’ve had doubts, sure. And doubts about my doubts. So my "I’ve Always Known" story isn’t clearly defined, like a chicken-or-the-egg scenario.

There was a ton of unpacking and thinking and backsides because if I was transgender, I would have had a clear sign by now, right? Right?

But at the same time, I had little epiphanies of my own. They just didn’t click until later. I looked back and was not surprised.

And there are so many ways to be your gender identity. Despite what society tells you, there’s no wrong way to be a man, woman, both, neither, or something your carved out for yourself!

I fought social conditioning and compulsory gender roles to settle fully outside The Box Marked F.

And yes, trust me, I’m sure. The particular "flavor" of my transness may change (I’ve gone from genderqueer to neutrois and now I use agender and non-binary interchangeably)… But I will always be outside the box.

That’s the short of it.