It’s not about beauty. It’s not about sex or sexuality. It isn’t the clothes, the shoes, the voice, or the way I walk or what I enjoy doing. That’s all personal expression and it has nothing to do with being a man or woman or anything in between.
But the body… the body, the body…
If you have not thought about gender I beg you to think of it now. Maybe not your own. You may be perfectly happy with the gendered body you have. If you are, then I beg you please, please exercise the immense power of your imagination and pretend to occupy the opposite gender than you currently occupy. Imagine being the same person you are, but in the opposite body. If you’re a woman, imagine having a man’s body: flat hairy chest, a beard, a squarish face and skeletal structure. Imagine dealing with a penis.
I know there are those whose sexual parts don’t mean male or female. I’m happy for you. I’m not asking anyone to change how they feel about themselves. But listen to me now: IT MATTERS TO ME. It matters to a lot of people.
I’m a woman. Always. All the time. When I sleep I’m a woman. When I’m naked in the shower I’m a woman. When I wear Jeans and a T- shirt I’m a woman. There is never a point when I am not a woman. The ” I” in me, the self, the person who feels and tells the body to sit or walk or speak or cry laugh think wonder doubt hope keep living love yes goddess of need I am talking about the self that needs to love and be loved back.
The person who carries this body from room to room, the great I AM of my self – that is a woman. She always has been and always will be a woman. To hell with the intricacies of gender. To hell with defining or proving or studying what gender means. It makes no difference. I don’t care about evidence. Fuck the evidence. It’s all smoke and distraction.
ALL I WANT IS THE RIGHT BODY. All I want is for people to try and feel the misplacement I experience. To understand how badly I want to get up out of bed, put on some generic clothes and walk outside without even washing my face and still be readily recognized as a woman. I’m tired of trying to “pass” as a woman. I want to be seen as a woman regardless of how I dress or if I wear earings or a necklace.
I want people to see a woman because I have a woman’s body. I want to be a nude woman.
But today I can’t bring myself to believe that’s possible. And I don’t want to hear how that’s impossible to understand. We can understand each other better than we think. We can’t know, but we can understand. We can. Those who think they can’t understand should try harder. Or make a better distinction between knowing and understanding. I am not beyond anyone’s understanding. I am, after all, just as human as everyone else.