Everyone compliments my hair. It always happens and no one is immune to it. I have that kind of hair that almost everyone appreciates. It is long, a sort of goldy blond, and lightly curly. As well as soft and shiny. The thing is that my hair isn't just my fashion choice but a silent reminder to myself every day I look in the mirror.
It is a reminder of the years I spent feeling ashamed of how I looked because I didn't want to be girly, because I didn't want to just be a mother or a wife or wear skirts and play with dolls. My father expected certain actions and certain ideals out of me and I could never deliver. He wanted me to be quiet, meek, speak when spoken to, sing well, wear dresses and make up and never desire to go fishing or camping or play in the mud. My dad would make my brother take out the trash and I would do the dishes and clean the floors. But it wasn't just him. If it were, I might have been able to ignore it but it was everyone around me telling me that I wasn't enough of a "girl". I was too fat, too wide, too boyish, too tough, too dirty, too introverted.
There were times, yes, where I felt the need to be girly or to act feminine but I shunned those moments, felt ashamed of them because I was tom-boy and I didn't give a half fuck about what "they" wanted me to do. I killed the feminine half of myself because I felt, more than anything, that "they" were all so very wrong about who I had to be. I'd always cut my hair short and wear hoodies and trousers and I hated being called beautiful (I still do; I'm not beautiful I'm handsome and very fucking proud of that.) Looking back now I know that this was my self-hatred shining through. Because I couldn't be just masculine or just feminine. Because I was both and I was ashamed of both halves but I found the feminine side of me weak and I couldn't bare showing it.
So I put up with the tauntings (dyke-shehulk-butch-bitch) and I sliced that bit of me that was feminine off and I lived feeling like some half-Jack beast unfit for the term "she."
But when I grew into myself and out of this idea that I had to be what everyone said I realized that there was nothing wrong in wanting some days to be masculine and other days to be feminine. There was nothing wrong with me but I wasn't free to be who I wanted to be. My family wouldn't accept me and in some cases would not allow me to be who I really felt I was if they knew the entirety of who I identified as. I was dependent on them and my survival rested in their monstrous hands.
When I realized this- that I could never be who I felt I was around them- I took a pair of scissors to my hair. I cut my hair and after I sat there and I stared at the strands scattered all around me and I hated them. I hated my hair and I hated what it stood for. Girls can dress like boys or have short hair like boys but if you do then be prepared for everyone to treat you like some halfling hunchback and not the Disney one with the gargoyle friends and the gypsy darling.
I gathered up my locks of hair, pale blond crescents that I hated so so so very much, and I promised myself. I promised myself that I would not cut my hair again until I was free; until I could sit down and cut it how I liked and not have someone impose their own standards and ideals on my living. That is, I would not cut my hair until I cut my ties and could live independent of anyone else's support.
It's been two years since I left my family's house. It's been three years since I cut my hair. And every day I look into the mirror and I see how society will hate me for being different. They will hate me for not being heterosexual, for not being one or the other, for not being consistent with their ideals, for not being a woman with a vagina but for being a human with a body. It hasn't gone away. It's still here. Because of my masculine way of dressing most days, my unlady-like behavior, and other parts of me that are not specifically feminine I am still assumed to be a butch lesbian. And while I find there is nothing wrong with being butch or being lesbian it's the fact that people decide this from looking at me that I hate.
It has served another purpose as well, however. It has gotten me to see the good qualities in my body. My hair is very beautiful. I will never deny it. It shines like goldy sheets of silk and curls just softly enough that it reminds me of pictures of the ocean's waves. I love my hair. It's beautiful and through it I have learned that I am not an ugly leper. I may not be the current standard of beauty but my handsomeness is more than enough for me. I love my wide shoulders and my broad chest, my shapely legs and my wide hips. I love my plump ass and my curves. I love the body I have. All of it. Even the hair in my arm pits and the pubes on my groin. And it is thanks to my hair that I love how I am.
But even still, it is that reminder that I am still not free; that I am still dependent upon people who would hate me if they knew me. I want my escape. I want my freedom but I am not yet able to reach it. But I know that when that day comes I will stand at the thresh hold with a pair of scissors and cut the binds that weigh me down. I will walk, lightened, into my own and I will be both happy and sad to see my beautiful locks go.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
DIANA WROTE THE BEST FUCKING STORY ON THE FUCKING PLANET
So you're laying down in your bed. It's dark, quiet, but you can still here the quiet muffled sound of ppl chatting from the living room, it's just about that time when everybody is off to bed. You're laying there, tired, you've had a long day. You're still a little bit tense but it's slowly starting to drift away as you realize you have no plans for tomorrow and you have this night to relax and let go of everything. And then it starts.
That sudden feeling that you're not alone, that someone is there with you. You look around the dark room. No one. But you know someone is there. There is a window across the room, and you can see the bright moonlight coming through the blinds. The slender and crooked sillueute of a tree branch stretched out across it, slightly moving from the wind outside.
And then it goes dark. Something has suddenly blocked all light coming in, but you can't make out what or whom. Suddenly it's as if a giant dark curtain had fallen down. There's no moonlight anymore, just a black mass behind the blinds.
And then it's gone. It's moved off to the right, and the moonlight is back, with just the tree branch shadow against the blinds. Only now it's not moving anymore.
It's silent now. There's no more muffled sounds from the living room. You look around the room. Nothing. Just the moonlight. It's dead quiet. You're snuggled up in bed with the blanket around you, and so you close your eyes. But then the dark feeling comes back, and you realize closing your eyes was a mistake. You open them again...
...only to realize you are now staring at a face, just a few inches away from your own. You can feel their warm breath flowing onto your own face.
You realize they're wearing a mask, a black mask with only there eyes and mouth showing, holding a stern look. You're frozen in place, suddenly very aware of just how close they are. But to your relief the face pulls back, and the figure stands up above you. You can still see their eyes, almost like two bright white slits shining out from the mask, which leads way into a cape and a dark suit. You can't make it out right away, but then you see it. Bat ears.
Before you have time to comprehend it all, a voice breaks the silence, it's loud but strained, almost in a gruffled like manner. You don't catch what is said right away. "what?", you say. It repeats.
"your cat. I accidently hit your cat outside." then you sit up in bed, and are suddenly fully alert. "WTF" you say. The figure speaks again. "Im sorry, but your cat ran in front of me, and I hit it." you blink. "omg you're batman" he seems to suddenly slump slightly, and lower his head. "yes, but I'm just trying to apologize for hitting your cat". You're stunned, but come back. "I-I don't have a cat." the dark figure looks up, "oh." it's silent, but now a different atmosphere has settled in. Awkwardness.
The air suddenly felt heavy, you stare ahead but are avoiding looking at the figure directly. He seems stern, but now is wavering, as if trying to find something to day. Even the branch behind the blinds shifts uncomfortably. A few moments of nothing. And then he straightens up. "nevermind. Go back to sleep" he starts to turn. "wait" you utter. He turns back, says nothing. "I....I won't say anything." you say. He wavers again. "thanks," and then he hurridly turns around, awkwardly turns the doorknob, and rushes out the room. The door shuts, a carefully slow shut. You then sit there staring at the door. No more noises are heard, no shuffling. As if he'd stepped out of existence. Your eye catches a brief shadow again passing by the window. You turn your head in time to see the last flicker of a black mass disappear. Then, back to nothing.
You lay back, suddenly aware of you're own body, your own tiredness. But your eyes are fixed back to the window. The branch and the moonlight, saying nothing. Your mind is silent for awhile. "batman uses door knobs" you hear yourself say. The end.
That sudden feeling that you're not alone, that someone is there with you. You look around the dark room. No one. But you know someone is there. There is a window across the room, and you can see the bright moonlight coming through the blinds. The slender and crooked sillueute of a tree branch stretched out across it, slightly moving from the wind outside.
And then it goes dark. Something has suddenly blocked all light coming in, but you can't make out what or whom. Suddenly it's as if a giant dark curtain had fallen down. There's no moonlight anymore, just a black mass behind the blinds.
And then it's gone. It's moved off to the right, and the moonlight is back, with just the tree branch shadow against the blinds. Only now it's not moving anymore.
It's silent now. There's no more muffled sounds from the living room. You look around the room. Nothing. Just the moonlight. It's dead quiet. You're snuggled up in bed with the blanket around you, and so you close your eyes. But then the dark feeling comes back, and you realize closing your eyes was a mistake. You open them again...
...only to realize you are now staring at a face, just a few inches away from your own. You can feel their warm breath flowing onto your own face.
You realize they're wearing a mask, a black mask with only there eyes and mouth showing, holding a stern look. You're frozen in place, suddenly very aware of just how close they are. But to your relief the face pulls back, and the figure stands up above you. You can still see their eyes, almost like two bright white slits shining out from the mask, which leads way into a cape and a dark suit. You can't make it out right away, but then you see it. Bat ears.
Before you have time to comprehend it all, a voice breaks the silence, it's loud but strained, almost in a gruffled like manner. You don't catch what is said right away. "what?", you say. It repeats.
"your cat. I accidently hit your cat outside." then you sit up in bed, and are suddenly fully alert. "WTF" you say. The figure speaks again. "Im sorry, but your cat ran in front of me, and I hit it." you blink. "omg you're batman" he seems to suddenly slump slightly, and lower his head. "yes, but I'm just trying to apologize for hitting your cat". You're stunned, but come back. "I-I don't have a cat." the dark figure looks up, "oh." it's silent, but now a different atmosphere has settled in. Awkwardness.
The air suddenly felt heavy, you stare ahead but are avoiding looking at the figure directly. He seems stern, but now is wavering, as if trying to find something to day. Even the branch behind the blinds shifts uncomfortably. A few moments of nothing. And then he straightens up. "nevermind. Go back to sleep" he starts to turn. "wait" you utter. He turns back, says nothing. "I....I won't say anything." you say. He wavers again. "thanks," and then he hurridly turns around, awkwardly turns the doorknob, and rushes out the room. The door shuts, a carefully slow shut. You then sit there staring at the door. No more noises are heard, no shuffling. As if he'd stepped out of existence. Your eye catches a brief shadow again passing by the window. You turn your head in time to see the last flicker of a black mass disappear. Then, back to nothing.
You lay back, suddenly aware of you're own body, your own tiredness. But your eyes are fixed back to the window. The branch and the moonlight, saying nothing. Your mind is silent for awhile. "batman uses door knobs" you hear yourself say. The end.
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