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OCTOBER 21.2011
WWW.JUSTOUT.COM
The Rules Of Attraction?
I’m attracted to women. I always have been.
Well, when I was a teenager I was attracted to
teenage girls and women, but my attractions
were always toward females.
I knew this was true, but something told me
it wasn’t. The something was my gender. If a
male was effeminate, he was supposed to like
tnales. That was the idea I picked up.
That left me in a conundrum. I could be ef
feminate and like males, which I didn’t, or I
could hide my gender and like females, which I
did. How did it work?
Not so well. I had girlfriends. Lots of women
like sensitive men, and the women I dated
seemed to like not having to adhere to gender
stereotypes too rigidly, but I spent the relation
ships cut off from myself. W hen we made love,
I retreated into a place of fantasy. W hen we
talked, I was always hiding secrets.
Now that’s not the case. I’m out and I’m in a
loving relationship. In my life, though, people
often assume I’m gay, and it bugs me. W hen I
transition, and I’m with my partner, I assume
they’ll think I’m lesbian, which bugs me, too.
Actually, sexual categories bug me in general.
I don’t believe I fit in any of them. I’m androg
ynous. I don’t see myself fitting into the gay/
straight continuum. I also don’t feel like ex
plaining the last five paragraphs to people ev
ery time I talk to them.
Sexual categories bug me in general.
I don’t believe I fit in any of them.
In truth, I’ve never had to. W hether I edu
cate people about gender or define the particu
lars of my sexuality is my business. So why
does it bother me?
Perhaps because it was always a mystery to
me. W hen I was closeted, I wouldn’t have
called myself “androgynous.” I didn’t know
what my gender was. People sometimes as
sumed I was gay, and I wondered if they were
right. I tried to date men a few times, with di
sastrous results.
Now, for the first time, I know who I am,
and I assume no one will understand. Maybe
I’m wrong. If I tell friends, I assume they’ll be
lieve me, because they care about and respect
me. I can’t imagine anyone at work, or a
stranger, ever asking.
The co-workers and the strangers are pre
cisely the people I’m annoyed about, though.
“Don’t try to put me in your categories,” I
think, “because your categories are all wrong!”
Am I mad at them, or at me? I don’t like be
ing misunderstood, like I am when people
except when I want to wear drag and be flam
boyant. I’m not male, except when I want to
dress male and watch basketball.
Damn, maybe I’m a male drag queen. O r
maybe none o f those words mean anything.
That’s a comforting thought, except that I’m
planning to have an orchiectomy next month
and start estrogen, and it would be nice to
know “what” I am.
I guess I’m someone who wants an orchiec
tomy and estrogen. I’d like some electrolysis,
too. I always have, really— I just didn’t know
how to listen when I told myself as much. It’s
hard to hear what you want when you’re telling
yourself you don’t want it.
So now I hear myself, and I want to hold
myself to every word. “Okay— I’m androgy
nous. I like women. I want breasts, but not a
vagina. Right? Right?! ”Yes,but...
That’s the tricky part. Jude Law’s attractive,
right? Admitting so doesn’t make me not an
androgynous, woman-loving, breast-wanting
penis-keeper, does it?
Policing myself this way is exhausting, and
I’m ready to stop. I’m surrendering my gender
house-arrest ankle bracelet... but I’m keeping
the tiara. J0]
think I’m gay, but I’m also embarrassed for
having misidentified myself.
W hat about later? Then, I fear, I’ll be per
petually misunderstood. W ho will look at me
and think, “There’s an androgynous person
who is attracted to females. I can tell just by
looking at zim?” Probably no one.
Will that exhaust me? I hope not. A part of
me likes the idea o f being unique. I’ve hidden
myself for so long, it’s fun to have my identity
show. Hut another part dislikes it, and thinks
my clothes and hair send messages that are
inaccurate.
Sometimes it seems important, other times
it doesn’t. W hen I wrestle with the question,
however, it seems really important. That’s when
I need the answer, and when anyone who might
misperceive me seems villainous.
Most o f the time the world seems benign to
me now. Unlike when I started my transition, I
think of people as tolerant and accepting.
Questions about the future, though, bring back
my old fears— and with them, my old hostility.
I want clear boundaries and definitions: “My
gender is...” But gender doesn’t seem to work L e e l a G i n e l l f . is a journalist and writer. Visit
that way, which is scary. I’m not a drag queen, zir blog at leelaginelle.com.
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