“Thank you, sir”
If you’re wondering what the heck I was aiming for with my last vlog and post, you’re not alone. My questions were nigh impossible to answer, which was partially the point, but I didn’t make it clear that I was looking for lived narratives of gender.
So let me reveal what is up my sleeve. The title of this post is a phrase that I hear on a regular, near-daily basis. Actually, I heard it yesterday as I told fellow Metrobus rider about the bus schedule (he was a man). Normally, it doesn’t bother me. I could write a whole series of posts recalling the instances when I’ve “passed” or been mistaken for a man.
These would date back to my late teens, and even include times when I had shoulder-length hair. Somehow, there was a discernably “masculine” air about me. A few of these stories would be humorous, others awkward (like the time an airline employee corrected another employee about my gender, proclaiming loudly before a line of twenty people waiting to check in, “She’s a ma’am, not a sir!”).
What has been interesting for me, watching all of this from inside of my own skin, is that while I don’t particularly care if I’m called “ma’am” or “sir” (I generally don’t correct people), the individual addressing me often does. If they figure out their mistake, they’re apologetic, embarrassed, sometimes angry. I’m six feet tall, with a very slim build, and I wear men’s clothing occasionally (it fits–especially the shoes, as I’m size 11 1/2). Even if I’m wearing “female” clothing, this kind of exchange happens.
People seem to be embarrassed because they feel either 1) deceived, as if I’m trying to pass as something I’m not, 2) ashamed, that they missed something important in their understanding of me. There are also responses that border on anger that I’m trespassing, crossing boundaries which are etched in stone or biology.
The reason I was asking about personal narratives is that I am normally not aware of being “gendered” until I run into these boundaries or boxes. At that point, when the square peg is being forced into the round hole, the edges become painfully clear, as does the passive element in that adverb, “gendered.”
A few weeks ago, while wandering around Myopic Books in Chicago, I found Female Masculinity by Judith Halberstam and I had to buy it. I’m interested in blogging about its contents, as well as what I’ve been thinking about in terms of personal experience and other books I’ve read (Stone Butch Blues, Middlesex, etc.)
Before I jumped in, though, I wanted to share a bit of my motivation and background. It’s not a secret that I’m partnered with a woman. Easy to categorize me, right? I’m a lesbian. However, I think that the constellation of ideas which make up “sexual orientation” and “gender” are complex, variable, and mixed in with biology and culture. So the experience I’ve been describing is one subject to numerous interpretations. It’s also one that can change over time, but yet seems to be rooted in something immutable.
Further, not all lesbians are “masculine”, despite the ex-gay mantra that female same-sex attraction is about a “hardened masculinity.” As well, the transgender movement is growing in visibility, and there are FTMs (female to male persons) who identify as same-sex attracted after their transition. Can we classify all of them automatically as “feminine” or “masculine”? Further, are all “masculine” women transgendered? Certainly not. The photograph at left is of Jamison Green, who lived for twenty-some years as a female-bodied person, identifying as a lesbian before his transition.
Then is gender primarily rooted in the object of one’s attraction? The stories my readers have shared would tend to say “no.” But certainly, that can be an aspect of how we understand ourselves, especially if our culture puts emphasis upon it.
Anyway, I think that this topic is interesting to me because it brings together different problems:
- Epistemology: how do I know my own “gender”, or the gender of others? How is it interpreted through cultural and other markings? In analytic terms, “justified true belief” about gender seems to be impossible–but it is an important aspect of human experience, so how do we move towards understanding our knowledge of it?
- Narrative and self: to what extent is our self-understanding generated by the stories I tell myself about my history, and the stories others tell about me? Matt, in his comment, cited the Bible as an authoritative story that interprets his gender; others will interpret themselves through psychology, biology, etc.
- Metaphysics of gender: Buddhism is cited by some feminists as amenable to the interpretation that gender is part of conditioned reality, and not an ultimate truth about us. However, Buddhism has historically not viewed male and female in egalitarian ways–a separate question which is also interesting. But the big question is to what extent is gender “real”? Does Buddhism have anything helpful to say about this question? What can science say, recognizing that there are narratives within science, too?
All of that said, expect more on this topic. And yes, anticipate that I will resist the dichotomy of “nature or nurture” and the false problem of civil rights being tied to the definitive answer to that question.
Images: Judith “Jack” Halberstam from BGSU.edu, Jamison Green from JamisonGreen.com.