That's my butt on the left, FYI.
As a person who has always felt a bit shy and incredibly self conscious, fashion was a way for me to express myself. Experimenting with clothing and presentation in my younger years was an easy way for me to have an identity and set myself apart from the crowd. As I got older, playing with my appearance became an outlet for creativity and interest in fashion more than a safety blanket. And then I came out.
I feel like nearly every queer person has a story somewhat akin to this. The moment in life I got my first girlfriend coincided with my pin-up phase of dress - I literally looked like a 1950's housewife every single day. Vintage dresses, red lips, victory rolls, heels. I prided myself on the head-to-toe commitment of my look. During this part of my life, I obsessed over coming out, telling people, dealing with my sexuality, and a thousand other things. I started going to gay bars and attempted to meet other queer people, to find a community that would maybe assist in this confusing and scary process with me, but instead I was met with a wall of hesitation. One girl mentioned to my friend, "she's too stylish for the lesbians in this town. Nobody is going to take her seriously." What?
no, really, i frequently wore gloves as part of my wardrobe.
I linked all of the hesitation back to my apperance. As my first girlfriend moved away and I was single and still searching for acceptance, I resorted back to an incredibly self-conscious time in my life. I was lonely and confused and desperate for acceptance, so I did what all new gays do and cut all of my hair off. I started dressing differently. Pants came back into my wardrobe, I wore less makeup. The drastic evolution of my style wasn't necessarily that shocking - it had happened a thousand times before this - but the reasons behind my shift in appearance was the part that was different. The thing in my life that used to give me liberation and a sense of self was now the thing I was using to fit in and to mask my identity in exchange for validation.
Over time and building my confidence back up, my style has fallen into a happy balance of "feminine" and "masculine" traits. I use quotations because the idea that clothing has gender is completely absurd to me, but I don't think we necessarily have the language to appropriately describe certain elements of style otherwise. Some days I wake up and want a cute dress and bright colors. Some days I am most comfortable in a bowtie and suspenders. Some days a giant, baggy t-shirt is the only thing I can handle. The important part of all of this is that whatever I have on, I feel comfortable in.
And despite feeling like I have gotten my confidence and expression back to a normal level, there is a queer element to my style and how I project that is off balance. A part of me where my femme invisibility bothers me, my desire to be recognized in my community is strong, and the part where the patriarchy ruins everything, and gender roles, even in queer communities, sneak up on you.
When I am single, or even when I am just not with my girlfriend (like at work or out with friends), I am most comfortable in presenting in a way that reads "QUEER" fairly easy. A pomp, a tie, pants, a vest. I want people to look at me and assume I like the ladies. I want to see other dykes and queers and have them give me that knowing nod and we will all feel like family and it will be magical. But when I am with my partners (who usually tend to be more masculine-of-center or androgynous), I like to wear dresses. I like to look girly and flowy and super feminine. And in my heart of hearts I know it is because I am holding hands with another girl, which affirms my queerness for me. I can have on a skirt and lipstick and look "passable" in the straight world but the fact that I running my hands through my girlfriends hair or she has her arm around my waist tells the world I'm a big ol' homo. I don't need my threads to do it for me.
Rachel appreciates my lady suit
As much as I complain about gender presentation, I fall into stereotyping just as hard. I have a coworker who "looks like a lesbian". What do I mean, exactly? She has short hair. She wears v-necks and Chuck Taylors and no makeup. She rides a bike. When I started there, I assumed she was a lesbian. I didn't know anything about her, but when I saw her style, my brain decided. Put her in a neat little stereotypical box based entirely on presentation and checked it "dyke." I did that thing that queer people do where I dropped words into conversations, like "girlfriend" and "all inclusive dance party" and names of lesbian bars and waited for her to react and then we could have that special "YAY WE'RE QUEER" moment together. But she never reacted. I started to doubt myself. Eventually, as we became real friends, we talked about her sexuality and the fact that everyone assumes she's gay. She's not. She just likes to look the way she looks. It doesn't bother her, because she is super laid back and awesome, but it got me feeling guilty about the assumption I was making. And I do it all of the time. But if you put her and I together and took a picture and asked strangers to guess who was straight and who was gay, I know what 99% of people would say.
So how do we, as a community, get past this? Or more specifically, how do I get past this? Why do I let my desperation to be recognized in my community trickle over into my style of dress? I am equally comfortable in all of my presentations, but how do I balance them out more freely and without concern? And now do I stop myself from making the same silly judgements I resent others for making so quickly?
