I cut my hair short when I was 16, I’d
spent the early years of my teens gradually letting it get shorter and shorter,
the more comfortable I was with who I was growing up to be. Then at 16, as the
hormones buzzed around my body I cut it really short (it wasn’t a great cut,
but it was mine). I wanted to create a new identity, I wanted to be able to own
who I was, even without knowing what I would become.
I wore baggy tee-shirts (this was 2001),
rugby shirts, flared jeans and vans and I fitted in to a point where I didn’t
question why I didn’t feel right.
By the time I was 18 I’d grown it out
again, not because I didn’t like the short hair, I just wasn’t ready to be that
person, it was easier to fit in if I looked like everyone else.
And I stayed like that, too quick to
conform, I even let my first girlfriend dictate whether I had short or long
hair, she had fallen in love with me, and yet was too ashamed to be out, and
apparently a girlfriend with short hair would have drawn attention to it. Now I
realize how misguided I was to let myself be molded into something that I was
not.
Fast forward 12 months and the hair was
gone, into a stylish, pixie crop ready for me to take on the world, as an out,
and proud gay woman, I didn’t have to hide who I was, as a women, or as a
lesbian.
The stereotypes immediately label you,
shirt, cons, short hair, they give you the identity that too many people try
and shake off, I was ready to take on the world as a gay woman, I may not be
the most feminine of women, but I’ve always considered my face to definitely be
that of a woman, and although they are small, I certainly have breasts, hips
and hands.
I have never struggled with this part of my
identity, I am luckier than countless people in the world, I know that, I have
never had to question whether who I was was in the right body.
I am willing to stand up for anyone who has
a harder struggle than I did, I’ve struggled with who I was and it is only with
the love and support of people around me that I am able to look back and
understand that everything that happened to me, is part of who I am now and I
use that to fight every battle I come across.
This all may be true, but there is one part
of my life that still upsets me, I still let it get under my skin and it
festers, it burns a little worse each time, and to that lady who muttered
sorry, that will never make up for it.
From the moment I cut my hair short, I have
been called sir, son, this man, to the extreme that when out shopping a number
of years ago, I was asked to use the men’s changing room. At some insistence I
was able to persuade the dim-witted shop assistant that I was a woman and I
would be using the correct changing room, but it made me shake, and cry and get
angry at the world.
I’ve stopped counting the moments when the
words slip from someone’s mouth, and even more often when no apology comes
forth once they realize their mistake.
The one incident that really hurts though
was this weekend, in a well-known German discount supermarket, waiting to
collect a trolley. A mother and her son were picking theirs, as I stood to the
side to give them some space, the mother turned to her son and said “mind out
of the way, the man wants to get a trolley from over there”, at this point the
young boy looked at me, and the woman realized her mistake, “woman, sorry”,
muttered into the trolley she was pushing.
And that was that, it was not the words
that got to me, it was the fact that she then did not take the time to explain
to her son, that human beings all look different, that it was her mistake and
that he shouldn’t judge someone at first glance.
That young man may now grow up to believe
that all the gender stereotypes are a reality, and perhaps even if he struggles
with his own identity, that it is not ok to be who you are.
I shouldn’t have to have my hair long, or
make up on, or my boobs out, to be considered a woman.
I am expecting a lot, from that woman I know,
from society, and from everyone around me, but I know, when I am lucky enough
to call myself a mother, I will explain to my child that they can be whoever
they want to be. Gender stereotypes will not exist in my house, and if, I make
a mistake and judge someone before I have given them enough respect to take a
moment, I will explain to my child why I made that mistake.
My child will be around gay women, gay men,
straight women, straight men; I will introduce my child to gender and all the
labels that go along that spectrum, just because they have two mum’s will not
mean that they are missing anything, they will be loved, and given the respect
as a human being to learn what is right and wrong.
I may not be able to ask all the people in
the world who make a judgment on me, why they do it, but I will make sure that
I do not let them get into my brain, from now on I am going to be proud of
being me, apparent gender confusion and all.
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