To Fear Femininity

Back when puberty arrived at my doorstep, unannounced, my adolescent self had abruptly become quite the overthinker. Gender roles and associations had developed early on in my life already, but the pressure to fulfill those roles intensified once I developed some bass in my voice. I’ll be honest, I was always jealous of the guy’s guys–distinctly masculine, sport-loving, sociable stars–probably because I had none of those traits. I talked with a lisp and liked musicals and for me, that was the end of the world. But don’t fret, this is not a sob story about my puberty-era insecurities. This is a story of admiration and appreciation to the women in my life who crafted a young man with their feminine energies.

I always found my grandmother to be an extremely captivating woman and when I was younger, it felt like I couldn’t spend enough time with her. She adored the theater, was a serious bookworm, and always made a statement on a Saturday at church with her many, many hats. Her burnt orange-colored walls and tiled floors accompanied by purple curtains, black art, and zebra-printed loveseats always left an impression. She was even a seamstress, creating several outfits that I wore cheerfully as a child. Like me, my grandmother loudly expressed herself through her creative influences. I constantly found myself inspired by her theatrical expressions and over-the-top hand gestures. If she had something to say, whether verbally or through her fashion and style, you were going to hear it–and that was an attitude I wanted to initiate in my life.

It was an unfortunate moment as a kid when I realized that I did not, in fact, have the capability to absorb my grandmother’s innate confidence, and that my journey of self-love and discovery was only just beginning. Growing up felt like consistent teeter-tottering between “manning up” or being vulnerable, both of which had negative consequences. But what happens when the most trivial things make you anxious? Can I wear this color? Can I walk this way? Talk this way? Masculinity was difficult to earn but easy to lose.

But then there was my mom, who raised me by herself for most of my life. She didn’t have the resources of an onsite handyman at our home. Yet, the grass was always cut, messes were always clean, and damaged goods were rebuilt. My mom just got things done, and she managed to do so without a partner. She exhibited both conventional masculinity and femininity–she was self-sacrificing while being my sole provider and caring for me in a loving home. There’s a power in raising a child alone while simultaneously succeeding and growing in your career. It’s a testament of one’s will to push forward and succeed, and a power that makes me confident in where I come from.

Being constantly afraid of doing anything remotely feminine became exhausting fast, and I decided that there were more things to stress about. But sometimes I still get insecure. Sometimes I still limit myself. And sometimes I just like blending in. That’s okay. If I don’t want pressure from others why give it to myself?

I am on a continuous journey of understanding who I am and in what direction my future is headed. But such things aren’t clear without looking back at my past, and understanding where I came from, who inspired me, and who discouraged me, because these things have all made me, me. Therefore, I admire my grandmother, mother, and every other single woman in my life that has graced me with her confidence, power, and most significantly, her love.