Lucy Grey: Gendernaut

Since I started writing this blog, a lot of things have become much clearer for me. Paradoxically, things have gotten cloudier, too. On the one hand, I now understand a great deal more about myself. My past and who I am today make so much more sense now that I have this new perspective. On the other hand, everything else—where I’m supposed to go from here, what all this means for me now—is up in the air; I’m as lost as Sarah in the Labyrinth.

It’s a curious reversal: before I started working out my urges to crossdress, before I realized there were parts of me hiding behind a mask, my view of the future was pretty clear and my past was a mystery to me. Today, my past is clear and my future’s exciting—but unsure.

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So here I am, wondering at my new points of view and the novelty of this situation. There’ve been several direct results of my realizations. The first couple were deliberate: I’ve begun wearing a bracelet/necklace and have been growing my hair out. The bracelet is not particularly feminine looking and my hair is going through a pubescent phase, so I haven’t been getting many probing questions besides “When are you going to get your haircut?”

But that’s okay—I’m not quite ready to come out to others yet. This is more of an internal thing, a physical mnemonic device to help me keep the state of my gender in mind when interacting with the external world. I want to prevent myself from stepping too easily into the masculine role that society expects from me. I guess I’m also trying to gradually make myself more androgynous-looking.

The unexpected result of all this? I’m finding myself hyper-aware of gender now. Especially as it’s seen in the external world. Sexually, I’m male, so using men’s restrooms is fine with me. I don’t give it a second thought. What does jump out at me are all the places on forms and applications where you may only choose either male or female as your gender. My gender is more than just a tick in a box; it offends me that something so complex is forced into such a restrictive binary.

When I come up against these situations, I have to take a moment to consider. How important is it to even fill out the gender section? I know that whatever choice I make, it’s a completely inaccurate representation of who I am. When it’s not a required field, I leave the gender section blank. Best to let people get to know me without any preconceived notions.

My discomfort with this boolean interpretation of gender, combined with my fairly masculine presentation really makes me feel like a hypocrite. Just the other day, I was preparing for a job interview. I was stressing about my appearance—my hair’s too long to look good, but I don’t want to cut it; I want to wear my bracelet but it doesn’t really fit with a professional look. I’m worried that if I dress the way I really want to, I won’t get the job. Part of me wants to allow these small expressions of my gender—but all of me wants this job.

In the end, I wore a suit. I fixed my hair as nicely as I could make it, and wore the bracelet as a necklace under my clothes. I presented as a clean-shaven man, eager to show my worth to the company, and I nailed the interview. I wonder, if they hire me, whether I’ll ever be able to present androgynously? Have I boxed myself into a masculine gender role here? It’s too early to tell—hell, these are worries that may come to nothing anyway.

Then again, professional life is different than domestic life. If The Man wants me to present as a man, I will, as long as The Man’s paying me. Does that mean I’m not being true to my real gender? Have I sold myself out? I don’t think so. Operating this way allows me to obfuscate the Gender Binary outside of work. I’m okay with that. That is, until I’ve found a career that allows me to be whoever-the-hell I want to be, AND support my family.