So last night was a work party, and there were lots of wimminz about. Interesting to be around such a group of people, with enough sexual tension to build a suspension bridge with (maybe the Religious Right would make better infrastructure for our country).
Later in the night, everyone moved to the Spoon (of course, we just can’t stay away) and discussion continued. My good friend and co-worker Blaine was there, along with one of his Rastafarian brothers, Anthony. We talked about what it is to be gendered in our society, and what it means to be a woman (after all, I am not used to spending time with women – Red, V, P, etc do not count as female – and I also don’t consider myself to be very feminine). I was a bit too inebriated to wax Constructionalism with any sense to be made of it, so instead we talked about personal experience.
Here’s the thing. I don’t like being a girl. Well, I don’t dislike it, but I don’t like all the baggage that automatically comes along with it (and I know no matter who you are, all sorts of things give you baggage). Especially this idea of growing something inside of me and then pushing it out into the world. It’s creepy. I can’t deal with it. It’s like a parasite.
So Anthony, Blaine, a random guy and girl, and I are talking about this on the porch. And Anthony says “Your gift as a woman is your innate ability to create. That doesn’t have to mean a child.”
It’s the first thing anyone’s said to me in a long time that’s made me not just accepting of my double x’s, but a little proud of them.
I’ll still stick to pursuing androgyny though, because I love throwing people. I love how they correct themselves, embarrassed, after calling me “sir,” and the conversations that ensue when I say it’s ok.