I would be a great boy. Day to day, I don't think about my gender much. I suppose that's how gender works, silently infecting everything we do with instructions for how to act. Lately though, I have been taking charge, being "the romantic one", messing around, and I keep thinking- I would make one hell of a guy. Now might be a good time to admit, I tried it once, being a guy. I voluntarily cross dressed for 2 days as a final for my Social Construction of Femininity and Masculinity class.
It started out as a joke, something to get me out of the written final. There was a transgender symposium on campus at the time, and a wonderful workshop called King for a Day. I figured it would be something I could bs my way through, and come out of it one less final to complete. Little did I know my life would be completely in the hands of an undetermined gendered person, and nothing would be the same. The first day, it was all about developing who you are as a man. I was named Topher and I was kind of a hippie. I wanted to put my long hair up in a hat, but our instructor would not allow it. "Men don't do that with their hair." So instead of cutting it, I did no styling, pasted facial hair on my face, and did not bathe. My boyfriend was not pleased. I changed my walk, my voice, my whole demeanor. We were instructed to own our steps; to walk each step as if we owned the ground we were walking on. We were strictly forbidden from smiling, apologizing and getting out of the way of others. (Women do this constantly. If you don't
believe me girls, actively try not doing these things on the street, it's disturbing.) I rode the bus, and for the first time, I got my own seat. I walked into my work, and my coworker and friend said, "Hey buddy, what can I get ya?". I even had to pee in the stall of the men's bathroom, because it's harder to explain that you're just "playing dress up" to a woman at the sink than to just go with it in the men's room. The "ah-ha" moment for me, was when I was leaving the
auditorium after the grand finale presentation. It was dark, and as I stepped out onto campus alone, I was not afraid. I was a man. A dirty smelly man at that. Who would fuck with me? I hadn't realized how crippling the fear of the night was until I no longer felt it.
Overall, it was an incredible experience. I really had to reevaluate my actions. Was I doing things because I liked how I did them, or because it was the "girly" thing to do? Since then, I haven't changed my whole life, but a few minor adjustments have taken place. I sit how I'm comfortable, even if it's not "lady like", and people comment on it every day. I haven't quite become the Boulder armpit hair lady, but shaving my legs is only for very special occasions. (Yes internet people, I'm kind of hairy.) But the biggest change is that I own my steps. It's not about the walk (although I can whip out a mighty swagger if need be), it's about my happiness quest. It's owning up to my choices, and making ones that work for me. OWN that step, because if today's your last day to live, you'll think about every single step. Was the right one? Did you go where you were supposed to? I want the answer to those questions to be 'hell yes'.
