RuPaul is my style icon. Truly. I joke about everyone and everything inspiring the way I dress, but Ru is genuinely the best and most real style icon I have. Elegancy, glamour, and the fact that Ru doesn’t give a single flying funky little care in the world about what others think. I don’t just love the looks and shine, I love the confidence that is needed to make it all happen.
I started watching Drag Race with my mother at the ripe old age of six. My Barbies wore dresses and heels, so why couldn’t the men on TV? I attribute my comfort in femininity to the Queens I used to lip sync praises to. Raven, Jujubee, Ongina, Sharon Needles, Jinkx Monsoon, Latrice Royale- those amazing people really taught me to love who I am, who I will be, and that I was worthy of love no matter what I wore, looked like, or I wanted to be.
I could dress like a man. I could dress like a woman. I could dress as neither or as something in between. I could have jewels on my cheeks or combat boots on my feet, and no matter what, those who mattered would love me. I would be loved, even if only by the part of myself that was being truly expressed. If I was me, love would flow from every part of my heart like I was made of adoration and couldn’t bleed out my affection fast enough.
For the last few years, I have cross dressed off and on. I have dressed as a man, and presented to the world as a man a few times in public. Generally, it was for Comic Con where I grew up. Crossplaying, or crossdressing for cosplay, isn’t looked down upon. It’s actually super normal, accepted, and even cool. People wanted to see little 12-15 year old me in a suit and tie, and if I was lucky, I’d get some pics with some other people doing the same thing.
It felt strangely normal to have short hair, a tie, and get second glances. It felt right to dress like a boy one day and a girl the next. It felt right to be nothing and everything in between.
At 13, I did tell my parents a few things about myself. I told them I was demisexual (and realised I was bisexual). I told them I was a centrist (and realised I was a liberal). I told them I was genderfluid (and I realised that was the wrong thing to say).
At 13, I didn’t know I’d have friends who wanted my downfall more than my company. I didn’t know people said things they didn’t mean to get you to do things that you wouldn’t normally do. People are naturally good. People mean what they say. People don’t tell you things that would hurt you. At 13, people, especially my friends, were so good, that there wasn’t any way they could hurt me.
The people I knew changed pronouns frequently. They changed labels even more. It wasn’t bad- even now, I don’t think kids should be knocked for experimenting with labels and terms. I just happened to be impressionable on the internet during 2015 Tumblr, when 76 genders became the new woke.
2015 Tumblr wanted a term for every gender. 2021 Tumblr on the other hand? It’s far more complicated. We live in the aftermath of having 76 terms, with around 10 of them seeing mainstream LGBTQ+ usage. My mother thought that maybe I was going through a phase of being agender/genderfluid/not a girl happened because it was happening to the people around me. The same older friends that changed labels were the same ones that manipulated me in ways I still can’t articulate as an adult.
I look at the button up shirts in my closet. And the ties. And the beanies. The things that I would wear to feel more comfortable. I look at the dresses, the wigs, and the makeup. The things that I would wear to feel more comfortable. I wasn’t hiding or choosing parts of me. I was dressing in the way that reflected what I was feeling inside.
I don’t argue with my mom. Usually. At least, I didn’t till I was calling myself genderfluid. Empty. It feels empty when you fight with someone about who they see you as and who you are. It should feel like being torn apart, torn between you and who they want you to be. But if you let go of the parts of you you gripped so tightly, when they yank that out from under you, there’s nothing left to fill you up. When you loosen your grip on the parts of yourself that you hold closest, what else can you feel other than empty?
Now, if you asked, and if I was telling you the things I told myself, I would say I’m a girl. I’m a girl who crossdresses sometimes, and hopes that one day I can be a drag king. Or queen. Or just royalty. I’m not mad about being a girl- most of the time.
But do girls look at male dancers and wish they had their abs? Or shoulders. Or body shape. Or jawline. Do people who love the body they were born in think about what it would be like to have the body of someone else. Do women want to be in male dance teams and boy bands. Do women who are always happy with being women want so desperately to be one of the boys?
Do people ever want to be gender neutral? I was told by a close friend of mine that cis people usually don’t think about being cis. They just are. Like when I’m dressed gender neutrally, I just am. I just am. I am just me, without the strings of being anything else.
I think maybe I am genderfluid. It feels right. It feels right, even after 5 years of being told it was wrong. The fact that an “I think” still sits in front of me, I know I’ve got a lot of self inspection to do. At 13, I felt confident in expressing myself, and at 18, I don’t know where that confidence lives.
But, I know Ru can give me that reassurance. After all, if I can't love myself, how the hell am I going to love someone else?
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