Living as a Non-binary Femme(?)

First of all, I have to acknowledge that "femme" is traditionally used in lesbian culture to identify someone as a feminine lesbian or bisexual woman (as opposed to a "butch" or masculine lesbian or bisexual woman). I argue that this is not the ONLY way to use the word femme, and I've heard it in other contexts before. Nevertheless, I've noticed that most often it is used in relation to lesbians and I want to recognize that and make it clear that my use of the word might be slightly different.

If it's slightly different, then why use that word at all? Why not find a more appropriate term for my presentation? To be honest, I just haven't found one. "Feminine" doesn't sound right. "AFAB" isn't specific. And I've also heard "femme" used in nonbinary and genderqueer contexts, so I'm confident that I'm not alone in using it in this way. Nevertheless, I'm acutely aware of how easy it is to misunderstand and misuse terminology. If you're reading this and bothered by it and are able, please let me know and I will take it into consideration.

Maybe I'm being overtly cautious in this caveat, but I've also heard the term "asexual" tossed around in incorrect contexts and it has bothered me, and I did know what word they actually meant to use. And if there's not a word for what I'm trying to convey, then fuck it. I'll make one up. The point of language is to communicate, and if the current language can't communicate effectively, then it must adapt.

I've had some alcohol, not gonna lie. All of this may or may not make sense, but trust me, it is all in earnest. I have a lot of thoughts on this but even when I'm totally sober I have a hard time articulating them all.

When I say femme, I mean I present in a very feminine way. It's not just that I was Assigned Female At Birth (AFAB), not just that I have breasts and feminine facial features and that I'm the exact average female height, weight, and shoe size. None of that has anything to do with it. It's about how I choose to present myself. When I perform burlesque, I do so in a primarily feminine way, even if I'm playing a male character. I make no effort to hide my breasts, I wear feminine makeup and clothing, and don't try to make my physical presence and bearing masculine in any way. In my everyday life, I still wear traditionally women's clothing. I could choose to wear a binder (if I could afford one...), to get a boy's haircut, to practice walking "like a man," but I don't. For the most part, I am comfortable with myself, even as I am constantly disappointed that people consider me a woman and use the wrong pronouns (regardless of how long they've known me or if my work nametag lists my correct pronouns).

As people (both strangers and friends) misgender me over and over again, "forgetting" my identity because it's "hard," I always start to blame myself for being femme. Maybe if I wear more men's button downs. Maybe if I start contouring my face. Maybe if I save up for a binder. Maybe if I don't shave. Maybe if I wear my tightest sports bra and a baggy shirt so you can't see those lopsided tits.

You'd think if people have time to look at my boobs they have time to look at my nametag, which clearly lists "They, their, them" as my pronouns.

But no, no, no matter what I do, I still look like a woman. Which is painfully ironic considering all the times in my life people made fun of me for dressing like a boy or not being pretty or delicate or feminine enough.

But...that's really the kicker, isn't it? I don't want to look like a boy and I don't want to look like a girl, because I'm neither. I'm non-binary, existing outside of the gender binary of male versus female. I considered using "gender-fluid" instead, because there are definitely days where I want to be femme and days where I want to be masc, but even on those days I don't feel like I change. It's more about how I want to look, not about how I feel. Because I don't really feel any different on either of those days -- I still feel like me. It's awfully hard to describe how it feels when I've never felt like anyone else.

Growing up, I always felt like being a woman was an impossibly difficult task that I could never accomplish. As a kid, I learned that anything feminine was a weakness to be made fun of. Wearing makeup and pretty clothes was stupid. Being a tomboy was cool. So I suppressed my interest in makeup and fashion and "feminine" interests in order to appease the women I most admired - my mother and my older sister. To this day I don't believe they taught me this on purpose. In fact, I know they have both struggled with femininity in their own ways, and as a young kid with little to no guidance and an unwillingness to ask questions, I interpreted their actions as fact.

When I got my first boyfriend at the decrepit old age of 18 (or somewhere around there, it was a long time ago), I unwillingly threw myself into femininity because it's what he wanted. He wanted a girlfriend who was sexy (but chaste??), who wore lingerie (but only for him, not herself), who took care of all body hair, who wore short shorts. So that's who I became.

He was an abusive asshole.

Even after all that, I had a hard time accepting and admitting my interest in femininity simply because I felt like it didn't belong on me. For too long I had denied it and accepted other people's claims that I was boyish. I took all of that to mean I really didn't look good in dresses. I never learned how to apply makeup correctly, so I believed I looked stupid in it. Even now in my mid-twenties, I frequently feel like everyone around me is making fun of me when I wear makeup and dress up because I surely must look ridiculous because I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing and literally learned everything off of YouTube and my fashion sense is nonexistent.

I got sidetracked at some point. This is why I'm not good in academia - I enjoy stream of consciousness too much and can't stick to one topic. Also I like to write about my personal life too much rather than actual data.

After I came out as non-binary, I started buying more masculine clothing and wearing it with less discomfort. Turns out men's boxer briefs are WAY MORE COMFORTABLE than most women's underwear. These days I literally only wear women's panties for burlesque or when I haven't done laundry, cause fuck that shit, bro. I've always favored women's boyshorts but never felt comfortable branching over to men's boxers.

SIDENOTE: If you identify as a woman it's still totally valid to wear men's clothing, and vice versa. Whatever makes you comfortable and happy with yourself.

That's literally the whole point of this post. Frequently I feel like I'm to blame for people misgendering me because I don't present androgynous. I almost always look femme, whether I'm all glammed up for a burlesque show or just sitting around playing video games. But that doesn't change who I am and how I feel.

Recently I decided to stop shaving my underarms and legs in an effort to "feel" more nonbinary. Sometimes it's hard for me to distinguish what I'm doing for me and what I'm doing for how I look. If I shave all that gross female body hair, am I doing it for people who look at my body or am I doing it for me, who actually lives in this body?

I also have some sensory issues, and for the past decade or so I've had a very strict shaving schedule because I couldn't stand the physical sensation of prickles on my body (when I was younger, I desperately wanted to shave because I was acutely aware of how the girls around me looked hairless but my super dark hair was a huge contrast to my super pale skin). I've never been able to sleep if I can feel the hair on my legs, and my body hair grows extremely fast, so for many years I shaved every other day (which I didn't realize was excessive for a veeeery long time).

For most of my life, I danced in an educational or professional setting, so most of my body hair would be visible in some capacity (tights don't hide much). In the past few years, I've stopped dancing as much and have had more research and customer service based jobs, which means people aren't looking at my naked body (well, most of the time). So it really didn't make sense for me to stop shaving in an attempt to make other people consider me less "female" (plus, women don't have to shave anyway, and all of my attempts to reject stereotypical femininity could be used to reinforce gender roles). Nevertheless, part of the reason I stopped shaving was so that just maybe, people would stop messing up my pronouns.

You might be thinking, "wouldn't it be easier to just correct people and tell them it bothers you when they use the wrong pronouns?"

Yes, that certainly would be easy. But fuck man, my social anxiety is debilitating and to this day I have only been able to correct a single person (one of my best friends) when they've misgendered me. And even then, I was dancing around the topic. If I don't blame myself because I'm presenting femme, I blame myself for simply not standing up for myself and correcting people.

ANYWAY. I gave up on the no-shave december and shaved my legs, and it was a huge relief. I'm still not shaving my armpits though, because that never bothered me sensationally and honestly it's just one less thing to worry about. Also, I just kind of like how it looks. We'll see how I feel when it REALLY grows out and I remember how much of a hairy beast I am.

But wait, isn't that what I want? Isn't a hairy beast the opposite of female, which is what I'm trying to distance myself from? BUT AM I ACTUALLY? REALLY I'M JUST TRYING TO DENOUNCE THE BINARY, RIGHT? NOT JUST NOT BE FEMININE?

Look, gender is really fucking confusing.


EDIT: I'm not asking for an apology if you've ever misgendered me, knowingly or not. The best apology you can give is to ask and practice pronouns. Likewise, I can practice telling people my pronouns (they/them, if you didn't know).

My Blood Moon and Isolation

TW: depression, suicidal ideations

Sometimes I feel like I don't speak the same language as everyone else.

It's not just that I don't understand a lot of references and inside jokes. I'm pretty bad at watching TV and movies and absorbing pop culture in general and I'll often panic and pretend to understand a reference I actually don't. Or I'll just look at my phone because I'm only sort of involved in the conversation anyway.

Often people will say very simple things and I just don't understand it for several seconds, or minutes, or hours. Sometimes I will respond automatically and even as I'm saying the words, my panic will rise because what I'm verbally saying isn't actually what I wanted to say. Or as I'm speaking, I realize they were actually talking about something else and now I'm just making a fool out of myself.

Since finishing grad school, my mental health has dramatically improved. I haven't been depressed and anxious every moment of every day and I've been able to actually enjoy things again. It's not just that I have time to do things - I actually have the emotional ability to enjoy them again as well. But what has also come with the end of grad school is a crushing loneliness.

I didn't really have any real friends in grad school, but I was around people often enough to where it sometimes felt like I did. I saw the same people on a regular basis and we had conversations and got along. But then it ended and I stopped seeing those people. I stopped seeing anyone.

I don't know how to make friends. It seems like people around me just become besties simply by being around each other. They seem to speak to the same language. And I sit at the edge of the room, watching and not really understanding what is happening and unable to figure out how to do it myself.

Unfortunately I possess a uterus and currently it's the blood moon. (Usually) the physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional craziness that happens for the week. All emotions, positive and negative, get amplified. My rare bouts of positivity go into full blown manic episodes while my default depression becomes a severe, inescapable despair. My casual suicidal ideations become frequent temptations as my brain gives me all these reasons for it being a good idea. My loneliness makes me further isolate myself because I'm convinced no one wants me around.

My periods scare me and it's gotten to the point where I have to schedule around them (they've gotten more regular as I've gotten older, so I guess that's convenient). No, I can't work an extra shift that week, I'll be trying to convince myself not to drink a bottle of nyquil. No, I can't finish that routine in time for the show, I won't be able to believe anyone would want to see my body. I have to make sure to finish this project by this date, otherwise I'll decide it (and everything else I've ever created) is trash and I'll destroy it.

I feel like I feed into the stereotype of the emotional, uncontrollable woman (not identifying as a woman is beside the point for the moment). I don't like using my period as an excuse because I don't want to feed that stereotype and make it seem like women (and all those who have periods) are unstable because of their periods.

But I am.

And instead of attacking myself for being an unstable disaster, I try to place the blame on my period. No, it's not that everyone hates you, it's that you're on your period and are extra sensitive. It's not that your insignificant, it's that you're on your period. It's not that you can't do anything right, it's that you're on your period. It's not that you're alone...somehow that must be your period's fault too.

I feel obligated to be positive when I write blog posts. To find hope and bring hope to others. To have a point, or a moral, or a life lesson, or an inspiration. I don't want blog posts to be a cry for help or attention. It makes me feel needy and wimpy. Like I can't actually talk to anyone, but here's a blog post talking about how I can't talk to anyone and maybe someone will talk to me instead? Because now that I've written this, if anyone tries to talk to me I'll assume it's because they read this post and are pitying me or feel guilty for not talking to me or some other shit. Or no one will talk to me and I'll feel more alone than ever with the added shitty feeling of being an attention-seeking fool.

Or maybe I just won't publish the post. I've been doing that more and more lately.

Am I censoring myself? Keeping myself from posting things I'll regret? Or am I just isolating myself even more?

Does publishing posts about how miserable I am actually do anything positive in the world? Do they help anyone? Do they even help myself?

I guess I write them because I have no one else to talk to. I write them when I feel overwhelmed and desperate but I know my friends also have a lot going on - or I'm just plain tired of whining to them about how I'm a sad boi. Or I expect them to internally sigh and say, "Ah, they're on their period again."

But it being my period doesn't change the reality of what I experience. It does not make the pain any less valid. It does not make the despair any less crushing. It does not make the suicidal ideations any less dangerous.

And yet you'd think that one could find some way to deal with it after experiencing it for seven days straight every month. But it seems to get harder, not easier.

One day I'd like to write a blog post when I'm having a good day and I'm happy and full of life and joy and excitement. But on those (rare) days I'm too busy off enjoying my life to sit down and write about it.

Thanks for sticking with me through my self-centered whininess. I hope you're doing well. Drink some water and try to get enough sleep and remember to eat something.

--Dexter

In My Skin

TW: self-harm, body image.

For various reasons, lately I've been thinking about (and look at) my skin. It has its problems, but it's changed a lot since my last post talking about it (why on earth did I not title that post "Counting Scars" and then write a full out parody of that song? Probably because that would be a little too morbid and offend someone, right).

I have many scars that are still visible. Although, as I mentioned in that post years ago, sometimes I'm not sure how visible they actually are and if they're recognizable. I've had people ask if they were self-inflicted or the result of cats. I did use cats as an excuse for a while, and I do have a few marks from an upset or overexcited cat encounter. But those marks don't generally last.

But now those aren't even the scars that I see first. Now I see the chicken pox scars, the acne scars. The one weird chicken pox/abscess combo right in between my breasts. An odd dry patch of skin on my arm that I have no idea when popped up. Probably some form of skin cancer but it's fine.

As many of you know, I'm doing my master's thesis on burlesque. This involves actually doing burlesque, which is absolutely amazing and I love it so much. I haven't performed yet, but just being a part of the world is incredibly inspiring and uplifting. For a significant amount of time each week I get to watch beautiful people be confident and love their beautiful selves.

Every once in a while (okay, most of the while), that little voice inside my head will whisper, "Why are you doing this again? You aren't beautiful like these people. You've got that weird scar between your boobs so your boobs aren't even pretty. Don't get me started with all the other imperfections."

I never used to care too much about my skin or scars that I didn't put there myself. But when I started doing burlesque, I began to notice my skin more. I used to have remarkably clear skin, but that's no longer the case. Who knows why. Stress, age, Florida. All of the above. Whatever the reason, my skin is far from perfect and my realization of that fact has given extra fuel to that little voice inside my head that likes to tell me about my shortcomings.

This voice usually has plenty of things to talk about as my anxiety makes me a perfectionist but my depression makes it hard to give anything more than the bare minimum. I like to think I'm immune to insecurities about my appearance because I've lived with my body and my appearance for so long that I shouldn't care about it anymore. Obviously that's a lie.

During one of my very first rehearsals in the burlesque troupe, one of the members was teaching us newbies how to pose in a "sexy" way. She said that you have to learn how to love at least one part of your body, and then you touch that part of your body and emphasize and show off how much you love that part of your body. Her instruction struck a chord with me and also made me acutely aware of how detached I'd become from my body.

When I was young, people always told me I had nice eyes. Kind older ladies would say they were beautiful, my best friend said I had the best "puppy dog eyes," and I was proud of how dark and big they were. Then one girl said I had "poopy brown eyes" and with the laughter of the whole English class, I lost confidence. Unrelated, I've always had a hard time making eye contact. Whether this is related to social anxiety or autism, I don't know. Probably a combination of everything. But essentially I learned to not love my eyes. Besides, how exactly are you supposed to sexily pose with your eyes (don't answer that, I'm sure it's possible)?

In the ballet world, I always had good feet. I have a high arch and good toe articulation that's useful for pointe work. So...every time I want to show off my favorite body part, I just need to take my shoes off, lift my leg up, and show the crowd how I can point one toe at a time. "There's always a foot fetish in the audience," as another burlesquer once said...

When I think about loving my body, I automatically think about it doing (or not doing) certain movements and positions. I had a pretty good arabesque at one point - but that's not really something you pop up in a sexy pose. I wowed many a modern class (and teacher) with my flexible hips (my hips frequently seize up, so I had to constantly stretch them out and keep them flexible), but what am I supposed to do, drop down into a cow face pose and wink at the audience?

Without actual dancing, I can't think of a body part that I actually like. I can think of plenty of reasons why I don't like every body part (and most of those reasons are linked to what it can't do or how injury prone it is). I don't like standing still because somehow it seems more vulnerable than moving. It's an invitation for the audience to stare closely at my body. It would seem like moving (dancing) would be more of an invitation and more attention grabbing, but it's never felt that way for me personally. Dancing, I always feel like there's a purpose other than my body. There's a story to tell, or a theme, or a concept. It's not about my body. Standing still and letting the audience look at whatever part of my body they want to feels far more vulnerable. It brings my physical existence into the equation.

In all of my years of performing and dancing, it was always easy to leave myself offstage. I could compartmentalize myself and only bring certain aspects onto the stage. Only the parts that were relevant, that were safe, that were acceptable, were displayed to the audience. When I was performing someone else's choreography, I embodied their topic, their character, their goal. I created a version of myself that only included what was relevant to that piece and I brought it to the stage. When I choreographed and performed my own work, I focused on one tiny aspect and shut out every other part.

For various reasons, I haven't been able to do that as easily as I used to. When working on my thesis, I find it very hard to separate the different factors and aspects of myself. I have to sit and deeply think about why I'm reacting a certain way. Is it because of my ballet training? Is it because I grew up in a church? Is it because I'm on the autism spectrum? Is it because I'm asexual? Which part of my identity is relevant here and how the heck do I keep the rest out?

I'm not entirely sure this is healthy. I would love to be able to fully embrace my entire existence - all factors, all aspects, all elements, physical and mental. I shouldn't have to constantly split myself into pieces and try to figure out which piece or how many pieces are acceptable for different situations. But I keep doing it over and over again until sometimes I can't remember who I am and who I want to be.

I may have gotten a little off track here. But if you've read even one post on here before, surely you expect that.

I've wanted to write this post for a while, but I kept putting it off because if I'm not writing my thesis, I shouldn't be writing anything. I don't have the time or energy to devote to anything else. But...this is my thesis. My thesis is about me and burlesque (and some other things). I've gotten too wrapped up in trying to be appropriately academic and write everything in a certain way and forgotten that really it's all about me. And this is how I work through issues about me. I have to write it out and follow my rabbit trails and act like I'm being inspirational and spouting words of wisdom and truth. And then I have to publish it because I just love attention, obviously.

Florida frequently makes me feel like I'm not good enough. Whether it's roommates or classes or allergies, it feels like there's always something out to get me. It's hard to not take things personally. And...man, it's just hard. I was going to say some more specific stuff but then I got overwhelmed with just how hard existing is these days and how pointless it all seems. The planet is going to die anyway, so what's the point? Gender is a social construct, women and people of color and minorities have been systemically oppressed for millennia, why bother trying anymore?

But...I will keep trying. I know other people keep trying and keep fighting and keep believing. It is hard.

Today I had a bad anxiety attack and did everything I could to break my skin with my fingernail, because I make a point to keep sharp objects out of reach. It is hard. But...I am still here. And I haven't broken my skin in a very long, long time.

--Dexter

ps. Even though "it has nothing to do with my thesis," I do want to start writing more posts again as well as go back to making videos. There's a lot of topics I know a lot about and want to spread awareness on (mental health, asexuality, gender, etc.). If you have a specific question or topic you'd like me to talk about and/or look into, let me know. Maybe you're genuinely curious and have a hard time finding answers, or maybe you aren't able or comfortable talking about it yourself. Either way, I am here for you.