[Vol. 57] Femme ≠ Shame
I know we all know this, but sometimes I don't.
As a queer male that likes to experiment with femme things – like, lets say, nail polish and the women’s section of a thrift store - I often find myself having to remind myself (*ahem* my inner voice) that being “femme” isn’t actually something to be ashamed of.
Now I know what you might be thinking … or I don’t, but I can give it a solid guess. ‘Till, of course being femme isn’t something to be ashamed of. We’re all born exactly the way we are and there’s nothing more beautiful than when we blah blah blah, blah blah …’
And you’d be exactly right. Gold star for you 🌟
But let’s be honest with ourselves here – if this were the only narrative we believed in, then coming out, experimenting with our sexuality/gender etc. etc. would be a non issue for men and those assigned male at birth – and that isn’t our reality (yet).
There are two narratives I live by:
1) that to be totally and uncompromisingly yourself is the truest/most beautiful form of self expression there is
2) that I should really take this nail polish off before I meet up with my Grindr hook up
I fucking love this tweet.
Firstly, because it’s just so damn cute – and I don’t call a lot of things “cute” (not the romantic type).
Second, because it’s just so damn honest. Look, I’ve never taken my nail polish off for a man and I can promise ya’ll that – mostly because I just keep forgetting I even have it on in the first place. But I can’t say that I’ve never thought about it.
And that goes for all men – those who I date, and those who I share the sidewalk with.
Before I left my house to meet up with this guy a few nights back, I considered taking off my nails. I was tired of them and they’d served their purpose, so I ripped em’ right off.
Ok, no but for real I really entertained the idea of dabbing on some nail polish remover for at least a solid 5 minutes. This guy had never seen me with painted nails before, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for him to. It’s not that I was hiding anything about myself from him, I just wasn’t telling him – and he wasn’t asking.
I ended up deciding against the nail polish remover and left to his with my nails a bright robin’s egg blue. He said he liked them. It was no big deal.
But it doesn’t always feel like that.
It feels like a big deal when I wear a crop top out and I can see everyone’s eyes going down to my belly button.
It feels like a big deal when the bodega guy sees my pink nail polished hands over the counter and stares for just a second too long.
It feels like a big deal when I hear that a 24-year-old Samuel Luiz was beaten to death in Spain this past week.
It feels like a big deal when Sina Rezaie, guy you’ve seen on dating apps before, shows up in your newsfeed with his jaw broken in two places, asking for donations to cover his surgery and months-long recovery after being beaten down in the West Village.
It feels like a big deal when you’ve been assaulted before, by a man holding your shirt asking, “Are you gay?”
It feels like a big deal when you grew up in a society that shamed men for being feminine; where you literally chose staying in the closet over experimenting with your sexuality and gender identity because you were unknowingly carrying that shame with you.
This. All of this is why I need to remind myself every now and then that being myself – expressing the femme side of myself – is not *actually* shameful.
I put such an emphasis on “actually” because in these moments I’m reminding myself that the shame I’m currently feeling isn’t natural – that it isn’t inexplicably tied to femininity or femme-ness – but learned; taught to me; handed down to me.
I remind myself that the men on the street that stare can deal with my exposed belly button and robin’s egg nails. It’s just a little bit less shirt and a little bit extra color – what’s the big deal?
I remind myself too that I actually find painted nails and crop tops really empowering.
Before I thought about what my date might say about my nails, before the story of Samuel Luiz burned a hole in my email inbox, and before the men’s stares on the sidewalk made me think of what happened to him, I was smiling down at my nails like I imagine DaVinci smiled at his Mona Lisa.
“Beautiful work. The best I’ve done yet!” I’d thought, as I blew on them to dry and picked out a crop just high enough to show off my hard-earned ab lines.
In that moment, I’d felt – I feel – invincible; empowered; beautiful
– just like we’re all told we’re supposed to. Just like the fake version of you I conjured up in the second paragraph of this newsletter blabbed on about.
It’s only when I let the world I was raised in convince me that I have anything to be ashamed of that I start to doubt that.
I know I’m not the only one that feels like this, so I thought I’d share with you guys here. It’s hard, sometimes scary – and sometimes very scary – but like my roommate and I often say, if you just tone yourself down or stay inside all day, they win.
And I’ve never been one to give up without a fight.
Happy Friday, friends – keep Samuel Luiz’s friends and family in your thoughts this weekend. My friends and I toasted a drink to him yesterday, it felt fitting.
Also consider donating to Sina’s recovery fund, here (he’s very close to his goal).
Stay safe. All the love,
Till
Find me on Instagram: @till_kaeslin
Check out the newsletter’s home on Instagram to see this post there, and more like it: @thatsgaynewsletter
See you in Volume 57, folks!
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