Ace Day: Not Feminine

Getting dressed as a child, I shunned any shirt or skirt that was too tight or too short. I considered wearing holes in the knees of jeans a matter of pride. I disobeyed my parents and played in the muddy river and chased frogs and climbed trees. Once, I someone called me a “tomboy” as an insult. I didn’t get it.

In high school, I noticed that I stuck out with my stubbornly baggy clothes and disinterest with make-up. Through those four years, I progressively became more feminine, wearing make-up, fixing my hair, and borrowing my sister’s clothes. This fashion change occurred due to insecurity. And I felt better, because I fit in and felt “cute”. Naturally, my fashion was far from “girlie”, but gone were the days of torn jeans and over-sized shirts.

Then, during the summer after my sophomore year at college, in a fit of ennui I got a pixie haircut. Along with curing insufferable boredom, the short haircut let me seriously consider the image of myself I projected. Previously, my fashion was ruled by whims, fears, and compliments. Cutting my hair short was the first time I made an intentional choice to reject, or embrace, a specific aesthetic. From that major change, I found myself making consecutive small changes, that grew out of self-confidence, rather than self-doubt.

I learned to love a good beanie, and rock grandpa sweaters. Then one day, renouncing makeup was no longer a matter of resisting societal pressure, but a natural and genuine preference. I realized that even though I looked good in a tight fitting short dress, I didn’t look like myself. And if I went to a dance in a “cute” dress, I was less comfortable than when I went wearing skinny jeans with a button down and suspenders.

These changes, paired with the fact that I live with a fellow short-haired female, raises eyebrows. In the Christian circles, asking oneself about one’s sexuality is not really talked about; it seems assumed that if you are Christian you must be simply straight. But looking over my life, and my recent habit (pun intended) changes, I had to.

And I concluded that I don’t experience attraction like most people. I’ve never been in love. I’ve been in one relationship, but it was long distance until he came for a visit, during which I ended the relationship in a panic. All my life, when people talked about the power of hormones and attractions, it sounded deeply foreign, something I couldn’t really imagine, and still can’t. It’s not that I haven’t felt attraction for guys–I have–it’s that I don’t see my sexual experience represented in, not only the media, but also the stories and testimonies of those around me.

Research about sexuality introduced me to the idea of asexuality, specifically what is known as grey-asexuality. People who identify as Grey-A do not experience sexual attraction on a regular basis, or very strongly. It is not a matter of never being sexually attracted, but sexual attraction is a bit of a rarity, and certainly not a big deal when it does happen. Reading that sounded familiar. It made sense. (DISCLAIMER: this is my very brief and vague summary of a very complex topic. I encourage you to do some of your own research!)

Research also introduced me to androgyny, specifically several women who embrace androgynous fashion and mannerisms without renouncing their physicality. Models such as Erika Linder and Elliott Sailors inspire me, because they are stunning human beings that are comfortable in their bodies and in their identities. Both of them have asserted that they do not believe they were born “in the wrong body,” but simply feel truer to themselves when wearing and modeling a variety of styles: menswear, womenswear, and everything in between.

So, why am I writing this? Like I said, I know my lifestyle raises eyebrows, and rather than silent assumptions, now that I have come to some of these conclusions, I would like to clear the air. I think one of the biggest things lacking about the topics of gender and sexuality (especially in Christian circles) is discussion. I am opening the floor for that discussion, and over the past few months I feel like I (and those around me) have been dancing around the issue. In this rare occasion, I am tired of dancing.

Reading this, I imagine a number of you are looking for a clear “out” statement–What exactly am I? First, I would like to say (in the most polite terms possible) that it really isn’t any of your business. I mean, by writing this I am making it so, but only because I am electing to share it, and, despite what society tells us, a person’s sexuality (and yes, even gender) shouldn’t be an open source of speculation and prying. Second, I am a freaking fantastic human being. That should be enough. But, I know it’s not. So, to answer the question, I would say that I am fully female*, not feminine, and uninterested in sex. I have no idea if I will feel the same way in a few months, years, or decades; what’s important is the now.

And please, for my sanity and yours, do not try to explain or qualify what I have said, especially the sexuality bit. If–and that is what I see as a big “if”–my lack of attraction does have something to do with not meeting the right person, then that will become apparent when/if I do meet this elusive “right person.” I will neither spend my energy trying to appeal to a phantom nor will I convince myself that I am not currently enjoying the fullness of my humanity simply because I am not interested in pursuing a serious relationship.

I have thought, researched, and prayed about this for a long while, and I ask that you respect that. However, I did say I was opening the discussion, so if you would like to discuss in order to understand (as opposed to lecture or to persuade), I am more than open for it. All I ask is that you remain open too.

*I shy away from the terms “woman” and “girl” just because I don’t connect to the current societal expectations of what those labels entail. That is an entirely different conversation, and this post is long enough, so I will stop it here. Another day, perhaps.