Gender Is More Trouble Than I Can Bear
By: Tima Loku
Tags: LGBTQ, Transgender, Women, Gender, Feminism

Gender Is More Trouble Than I Can Bear

Photo of Author by Suba T

When I first read Gender Trouble by the feminist philosopher Judith Butler and came across the concept of “performativity”, I felt years of oppressive aloneness fall away. I felt that someone described what I have been trying to put into words for a lifetime. I felt validated.

But this is a personal story about my experience of gender and the question that begs to be asked is “Am I a woman?”

If I have to label myself, I get confused. I want to make a category called gender-confused and place myself there.

What is wrong with me is that I want to identify with the species of people called “women” even as I repeatedly fall short of the category’s ideals. If I am not wrong, a lot of the so-called cis women are struggling with the expectations placed upon them as well.

What I want is for ‘women’ to see me and embrace me into their sisterhood. Transwomen, ciswomen, any women. There IS a sisterhood, right? But the moment they see me, I am likely to get othered based upon visible difference.

I am deeply a feminist, and I want to talk about what it means to be a woman. I want to write about women’s issues. What stops me short is the question of whether the fellow women would accept me as one of them to care enough for what I have to say.

For example, I recently published a poem about decolonizing the idea of ‘woman’ and I was wondering the entire time if I even have the right to speak about women. I made an Instagram account called “writing herself” and then changed its name.

I feel a deep sense of identity as a woman but I also feel alienated at the same time.

I wondered whether people would be more likely to follow if I had an easily relatable/acceptable female face. How about long hair falling below shoulders, wearing something “pretty” with sunshine obscuring half of her face, and better yet, a white face? Who is the authority on “women”? Whose voice has implicit authority without having to earn it?

Let me tell you a bit about myself: I grew up in the beautiful paradise island of Sri Lanka which is also a highly patriarchal culture. Within it, I grew up as a girl and was on my way to womanhood.

There was no doubt about it, patriarchy offended me daily, and therefore, I was a girl. It was unsafe to walk alone in the streets; therefore, I was a girl.

Even then, I was not a “good enough” girl. Society consistently pushed against my real self. The only time I got noticed in primary school was when I beat up a boy who wanted to beat up a girl. The fact that I dared to do so got me noticed at school. It was an odd thing for a girl to do and overnight everybody knew my name.

I had short hair then but as soon as I became twelve years old people wanted me to grow my hair back so I can be a proper woman. I had to carefully watch my behavior and not act so wild. I had to make sure I sit with my legs close together. I had to stop playing with boys. Since I could no longer play with them, instead I climbed a mango tree and watched them play cricket in the afternoons. Also, I wasn’t allowed to climb trees.

Freedom of gender expression was childhood entertainment that was denied to me after puberty. People continued asking me if I don’t like to wear dresses or skirts. My best friend’s mother was so invested, she wanted to make me a dress herself.

I gave in and spent eight years actively performing femininity until the age of twenty. Then I let go.

Now I wear what I want, speak, act, and live in the ways that are natural to me. Sometimes, I shop from the men’s section for clothing because I think they are more comfortable, practical, and long-lasting. I wear makeup rarely if I feel like it. I buy and wear dresses out of my own choice sometimes (rarely too — but still). Right now I feel more feminine than I have ever been before.

Now I am as myself as I can be at the moment. Tomorrow I might bloom into something else. Who knows? I have cut my hair short again for the last few years. Why do I live in a world where I need to explain the preference I have for my hair length?

Every time I socialize with Sri Lankan people, at least one of them manages to loudly comment on my hair in a room full of people or mention that I look just like a guy. Or they say that now I look like my father. As a result, I feel completely alienated around ‘my people’ — they are not my people anymore.

I am tired of the binary and policing of people into gendered categories. I still don’t understand why a vast majority of people follow the way society has organized gender — I think partly it is the coziness of conformity. I imagine it has little to do with ‘nature’.

Sometimes I miss the long hair and wish to magically have it back for a day. Only if I had a fairy godmother.

What more, my short hair might have nothing much to do with gender. When it comes to living, I go for simplicity, ease, and minimalism. My hair has a lot more to do with those.

However, when I read the stories of transmen, I identify with some of their childhood experiences of not fitting into expected gender expectations. Then I question myself again — the middle is also a difficult space to occupy.

What makes me different is that internally I feel like a woman while externally I act like a man sometimes. That is also because society has categorized behavior as feminine and masculine — it didn’t need to do so but stereotypes are what humans rely on. In reality, I behave like myself.

It is no longer a performance — it was a performance when I took extra care to look feminine in the past just to avoid other people’s judgment.

Even having lived in the so-called first world for the last fourteen years, there is not much difference when it comes to gender expectations. We might think society has changed drastically, but it depends on which social bubble you live in. The average person still doesn’t get gender beyond the binary.

There are three key aspects of myself that I feel makes me stand outside of the sisterhood looking in:

Sexuality

I could not generate enthusiasm for the conversations of women that involved talking about men. And women mostly talk about men with other women — why is that? Do men spend most of their time with their bros talking about women? I don’t think so.

Plus I am overall strange, and I don’t care for gossip or keeping up with pop culture, so I tend to become invisible very quickly regardless of my gender or sexual orientation. This was my experience even when I was gender-conforming and in the closet.

In group conversations, I was more of a ghost than a woman.

I am both woman and other. I am also brown, queer, and polyamorous — I am the other of the other. These are not identity attributes that I put on for fun or attention. These are attributes that would make a person like me disappear into the cracks of this society. These make my existence heavy.

I’d rather have belonging.

Personality

Part of gender is the outward appearance and mannerisms. I do not think of myself as a “butch” woman or even a masculine woman.

People are less likely to call me beautiful or pretty now. I have the same face though. However, to my greatest unhappiness, people still tell me to smile.

What confuses people most at first glance are the short hair and the way I hold myself. So when people have mistakenly called me “sir” a few times, it has shaken me a bit. Only men have misgendered me so far — can you explain that? It’s usually cashiers or people who stop me to ask for directions.

The moment they see that I might be a woman, they start apologizing. I don’t mind — you can call me sir and get gender-confused anytime. I have to admit that I get a sinister sort of pleasure when someone is confused about my gender. That is because I think a whole lot about gender is socially constructed bullshit romanticizing the coming together of opposites (important for heteronormativity).

Note: I am happy to be misgendered by mistake but I am annoyed when people who know me associate me with ‘man’. For example, asking who wears the pants and immediately assuming it is me. No no no, for so many reasons. “Man" as is now, is the last thing I want to be.

Non-conformity

If I am gender-nonconforming, it is only because I am non-conforming in general. I am myself. I have an interest in belonging, but I have no interest in performing anything. I don’t even want to perform genderqueerness or non-conformity.

Every alternative label comes with a set of expectations and I find them to be as burdensome as the idea of what a “woman” should be. I find it easier to live without thinking of gender, but it is impossible — it is a privilege I don’t have.

I miss the acceptance I had prior to becoming this version of myself. If I grow my hair long and curly again, maybe wear some makeup, and never mention the presence of my wife, maybe I will be back in the in-group? At least to stay there and be a ghost?

Back then I didn’t have to be questioned by other people so much and I didn’t have to question myself. I could live without the hyper self-awareness of minute social interactions.

All these points discussed make me want to say, “Hey, look at me — I am also woman. I might not be an ideal woman, but I am a woman.” Another part of me is happy to occupy the zones of “neither man nor woman” or “both woman and man” or transgender as in between (binary) genders.