Genderally Speaking: A couple of musing on womanhood

A couple weeks ago I was in fitting rooms (trying on clothes I had no business buying) and I was taken aback, encouraged and thrilled, by the chatter I heard among the women in the space. As women, we’re taught that we should always be ashamed of at least one thing on our body. And that we should dress according to our physical insecurities instead of our tastes in clothing. So if she is self-conscious about her fat thighs, then she should only wear knee length skirts/dresses/shorts; and she’s brave if she wears otherwise. In the fitting rooms I heard women building up one another by compliments and best of all by correcting. When someone would say she didn’t look good in something, her friend corrected her and said that she looks great in whatever she feels comfortable in. If she likes yellow, then wear yellow and don’t worry about how others will perceive her; if she likes big prints then don’t think she can’t wear them because of her size. It made me smile and almost brought me to tears to hear women being so complimentary of each other.

Changing gears here:

A couple weeks ago I was talking to someone about our plans for the next evening and I mentioned that I was going to wear a short dress because I had just shaved my legs and I was feeling pretty damn good about them. She, a lesbian and feminist such as myself, called me a bad lesbian. She called me a bad lesbian because I shave my armpits and legs. It offended me at first, but mostly surprised me that a very vocal feminist would put down another woman for her choice to do what she wants with her body.

She doesn’t shave or wear bras and that is her choice and I respect her decision to do (or not do, rather) that with her body. She should have shown me the same respect because I choose to wear bras and shave. These things don’t make me less of a feminist or lesbian and they don’t make me more or less of a woman. Being all of those things looks different for each person.

From a young age girls are subliminally (or perhaps intentionally) taught that we should be doing everything in accordance with the male gaze. That means that every decision that I make about my appearance and outward mannerism should be presented and done to the liking and temperament of men, familiar and strange. Well that’s some bullshit and I refuse to live my outward life for anyone else besides me.

There’s a ‘new’ movement going on in which women, queer and otherwise, just don’t shave their body hair. Not only do they not shave it, but they also don’t try to hide it. So they wear sleeveless tops and dresses; some even dye their armpit hair! I think it’s wonderful that women are no longer feeling ashamed or dirty for having body hair. I mean, it does naturally occur on our bodies and men are allowed to be as hairy as they like without worrying about being thought of as being dirty or as making some political statement for not ‘taking care’ of it. I tried it, the whole not shaving thing and it just wasn’t for me. I didn’t like how it felt or how it made me feel, so I decided there was another way for me to fight the patriarchy. Notice how this decision has nothing to do with anyone else’s perceptions of me. My body, my decision. It’s called autonomy.

I am Woman. I am Feminist. I am Gay. I am Black. All of these intersect within me and there is no one correct way to embody this conglomeration of amazing elements! One of my favorite things in the world is to see and hear of women who have taken control of who they are and who they want to be by means of career, sex, love, and life, bonus points for them encouraging and aiding others to do the same.

Being a woman is amazing in any shape or form so fucking own it.