Pass

Dale writes about the feeling of 'passing' as a man.

I get it. My own sense of displacement mirrors his. But not quite the same.

I've never felt comfortable with any homogenous group. Children were a horror to me as a child. Women irritate me when they gaggle. Men in teams succumb to the worst group-think. Medical people can only talk shop, or the most mainstream of pop culture.

Given this, it should not surprize that I have never really had a circle of female friends. I thought for a long time that I really didn't much like women - because I could never get along with more than one at a time. The exception, I thought. Army women were refreshing - tough, boisterous, funny, willing to not take anything too damn personally. Figured nurses would have to be much the same, right? Ha. No. Oh, some, yes, certainly.

But I don't fit with women. Never wanted children, don't see the point of make-up, crafts bore me, I really like the guy I married, cooking is for fending off starvation, shoes are to protect my feet, and on and on.

Nor do I much connect with typical men. Don't like sports - at all, nor motorcycles nor cars save in the most practical sense. I can shoot, but could never hunt unless I had to for basic food. Not into home repair for fun. Not going to flirt, although I had a phase of my life - oh, wait, those were Army guys - who like no-frills women who talk dirty.

In general, though, I pass better with men. I can keep up just enough, am enough of a brassy smart-ass, to hold my own with the rough wit. With women, most women and definitely when they are bunched, I bite my tongue carefully. Very few - including those who come to read here, and of course Moira, can I just let my thoughts pour of of my mouth and expect to be understood - or at least given benefit of the doubt.

What this means is that my own social identity is androgynous. I feel no need to be feminine, nor particularly masculine. Even as a small child, I liked swishy dresses in the same way I liked capes and flags, just for the movement in the wind. Not to be girly. I liked getting dirty, but not being hurt and tough like the boys, despite being considered a tomboy. I knew I wasn't. I chose each time, quite apart from gender. I happily squished ants, but cried over dead birds and squirrels. I had no fear of a neighbor boy's snake, nor of a teacher's tarantula, but ran in terror at a wasp.

My idea of myself as an individual, resistant to the musts of others, has grated against the world all my life. I don't make friends easily, but the ones I have are amazing people.

Not "sell when you can, you are not for all markets." Don't sell yourself short, wait for the best. I'm a freak, but in a good way.