On Femininity

*Note: This is a post I started writing in mid-October, and that I have only just now finished. I don’t like leaving things undone so that’s why I’m still putting it up. My reason for taking two and a half months to deconstruct femininity is a.) science classes and b.) having no time at all to do anything this semester, which was mostly spent studying in my girlfriend’s room (see option a.) In fact, do not be surprised if my next post is titled “How I Did nothing but Exams For Three Months” or “Being Thankful for a Girlfriend/Parents who Consistently Woke Up at Five in the Morning to Get Me to My Eight O’clock Class”*

As my mom and I were skirt shopping the other day, she made a joke about how I’d started doing more typically feminine things–like wearing makeup, wearing skirts, and shaving–since coming out, while I had shunned many of these activities during my “straight” life. Indeed, in my previous relationship, I was more likely to wear jeans and t-shirts and stop using razors or cosmetics for months on end. I wanted more than anything to be taken seriously; I hated the funny looks I got when, after the meal, I was the one to open doors and ask for the check. I hated that our society equated being feminine with dependency and weakness. So I made it a point to avoid blatantly feminine behaviors, especially around my boyfriend. I wanted to force the world to see us as equals.

My parents bought me mainly gender neutral clothes and toys when I was a baby, and as someone who was bald until the age of three, it was difficult to tell my gender by my appearance. When I was a toddler I loved frilly, floral dresses, dolls, glitter, fairies, the color pink…all of that. Then I got into Buzz Lightyear and dinosaurs as a preschooler. I eventually became the kind of kid who could happily play with both Barbie dolls and Star Wars guns at the same time, without really caring what was “for girls” and “for boys”. Mostly as a rebellion against growing up, as well as an inability (thank you, hips) to fit into the tight-cut jeans offered to preteen girls, in middle school I started shopping exclusively in the boy’s section. It was a welcome contrast, however, to the miniskirts and lip gloss my female classmates had started wearing. I hated watching friend after friend succumb to the world of girl-gossip-drama and mushy-gushy crushes on boys. Instead, I did my classwork like a good little Hermione-emulator, ate lunch with my math teacher, and spent my social life poring over Tamora Pierce novels about cross-dressing knights. I didn’t rediscover femininity until I was thirteen, when I went through the dreaded goth stage that seems obligatory for every art student that age. By high school I was good with being feminine again, so long as it was in a weird sort of way. I enjoyed drawing swirling designs on my face in makeup and marker and climbing trees in tights just to prove I could.

Then, in college, I made two wardrobe-changing discoveries: a.) you cannot safely wear skirts, dresses, jewelry, open-toed shoes, flowy things, etc. in science courses because chemicals/fire/dissected animals/bacteria and b.) feminism. I started wearing jeans, cotton shirts, and sneakers and putting my hair back (long hair in lab also equals death). Soon makeup and shaving went the way of the beads and scarves and fingerless gloves of my past. It wasn’t just practicality; I also wanted to be taken seriously–by my professors and peers in the sciences, and in my personal life. As I became more of a feminist, I started to question things I’d taken for granted. While never “traditionally” feminine, I worried about what my clothes and makeup said to the world. I didn’t like that, when out with my boyfriend, he was assumed to be “in charge” and that people would engage him in conversation without looking twice at me. I, like the rest of our society, equated femininity with weakness, and toned down my feminine markers in order to be taken more seriously as a person than as an object.

So why am I okay with presenting as feminine, wearing miniskirts and makeup and (gasp) shaving my legs after coming out and being in a lesbian relationship?

In your basic Women’s Studies 101-type feminism, a lot of time is devoted to deconstructing markers of femininity–fashion, makeup, body maintenance–as oppressive. The beauty industry really does make a ton of money making women feel bad about themselves and convincing them that their appearance, particularly a feminine appearance, is the most important stepping-stone to success and happiness. A lot of women’s clothes and accessories are sexualized in a way that implies that women are supposed to be passive objects of male desire. But I don’t think that the miniskirt, the makeup, or the various hairless body parts are the problem; refusing to shave and wearing gender neutral clothing is not going to single-handedly stop sexism. I now resent that even within feminism we equate both feminine clothing and so-called “feminine” behaviors–passivity, gentleness, coyness, etc.–with being weak, and propose that only by shedding these items and traits can we assert ourselves as powerful. I don’t think that wearing pants makes me more serious an intellectual or more powerful an individual than wearing a skirt does. Yes, one is more easy to defend oneself in a medieval battle with, but how many of us do you see asserting authority with swords nowadays? In some ways, I can use markers of femininity to feel more powerful, not less, and not necessarily by capitalizing on the inherent perceived sexuality or sexism of my garment.

In a lesbian context, I think it is easier to see how presenting as feminine (being ‘femme’) does not necessarily confine an individual to a particular role or power structure. Not all femmes are meek, passive, content to take the backseat to their lover, and not all masculine presenting lesbians are aggressive, active, or ‘in-charge’ in their relationships. Femininity and masculinity are not seen as biological essentials in the LGBTQ community, or determinative of personality. This is key difference that helps to explain why I’m comfortable being feminine in a lesbian relationship when I wasn’t in a heterosexual relationship; for heterosexual, cisgender women, femininity is not seen as one choice of many. It is seen as essentially tied to their biology and sexuality, and the implication is that a straight man will never love or desire a woman who is not conventionally feminine. Being straight and being feminine are tied together in ways that makes femininity a part of a predetermined societal role.

It is hard for me to imagine nowadays that I ever took the feminine = heterosexual woman = weak model for granted, like so many people in this country do. I now know that being feminine is not inherently tied to womanhood; men of various sexualities and presentations can be femme, too, as can those who do not limit themselves to a particular gender. It is hard for me to feel like wearing a skirt weakens or degrades me when the look in my girlfriend’s eyes as I put on a lacy nightgown makes me feel anything but powerless. I would rather prove to the world that I can be both feminine and powerful, be feminine and be taken seriously as an intellectual. If someone underestimates me based on my wardrobe or demeanor, then they will be in for a surprise when I proceed to be intelligent or assertive in the face of their expectations.

There are elements of femininity outside of appearance, too, that are typically taken for weaknesses when instead they should be seen as potentials for strength. It takes a lot of courage, I think, to be comfortable enough with oneself to be able to nurture another person, or to give up a more selfish goal for the benefit of someone you care about. It takes strength to bite your tongue and remain quiet, with smile in place, when you know that arguing will only cause pointless damage or your sharp retort will cause pain in exchange for the most fleeting sense of satisfaction. Knowing when to fight and when to negotiate is not weakness; deciding to let your guard down and learn to trust someone is not the same as surrender. I have often resented that my appearance and my natural shyness make those who meet me see me as innocent, naive, and fearful when inside I am bursting with witty retorts, cynicism, and assertiveness. I do not often act or think in ways that would be considered “ladylike” even when I look that way. It has taken me a long time to realize that appearing feminine or engaging in feminine roles and behaviors can be subversive when you can also prove that you can be strong, aggressive, and intelligent while wearing a skirt and hot pink lipstick. It gives me satisfaction when I can whirl around in a floral-print dress and still dominate in the bedroom, laboratory,  or classroom. Likewise, knowing that I can be a strong woman regardless of how I look or how awkward I come across in conversation gives me the freedom and self-knowledge to be submissive, to know when to hold my tongue, and to allow myself to trust somebody without losing my sense of self-worth. I think that real strength cannot be determined by the fabric you wear, by how much of your body you hide or reveal–instead, it is time for this society to let go of its shallow hangups with appearances and gender and learn to judge an individual by their actions, not their wardrobe.