Gender has been on my mind a lot lately, partially because several of my papers have been (at least in part) about gender, and today, after I read about Laura Jane Grace, I’ve been unable to get it off my mind. (Tumblr usually spurs questions of gender and sexuality anyway, which is probably a big part of what keeps me here.)

I identify as a woman (which is what I was born as) , but referring to myself as one weirds me out, for some reason. It’s almost like I try to forget about gender even though, as a feminist, it’s something that comes up pretty much daily. I definitely don’t feel male, though, as much as I’ve often wished I did. There have been times when I’ve been pretty sure that I was a gay man in a straight woman’s body, but tons of people say that shit. My renewed interest in makeup and vanity in general has further complicated things, but now I have something further anchoring me to feminine “norms,” whereas before, I suppose I had even less to make me feel feminine.

I’m kind of just typing as I think and getting some thoughts out. I know this is something a lot of us think about and have to muddle through. Sometimes it’s tiring and weird.

I wonder how much I confused my classmates when I read from my final CNF revision, which had a lot of shit about gender and sexuality. In my first draft, I think they all assumed I was a lesbian. Now, they probably just think I’m weird. (I made it clear, though, that I’m not a lesbian. I’ll identify as queer, but I usually feel kind of bad about it because I’m practically sexless and feel weird with any sexual identity.)

In regards to the earlier anon messages regarding my thoughts on straight edge and ableism, I’ve actually talked about that (very briefly) before here. I completely forgot about it.

I definitely acknowledge the fact that I’m emotionally-equipped enough to handle my own intestinal disease (my doctors don’t know what to tell me, so we just call it IBS, because it’s similar), ovarian cysts, anxiety, and depression without the help of substances, but that’s not to say that I don’t have my own coping mechanisms. When I do get anxiety attacks, valerian root and other soothing herbs like lavender become my best friends. As far as intestinal pain goes, I haven’t found a way to solve that problem, so I feel like shit a lot, and I wish I didn’t, but one, I could never afford to keep up a marijuana habit if I wanted to, and two, I have no interest in using it. It’s fine for my ex, it’s fine for my dad, it’s fine for tons of other people, but it’s not for me. I’ll continue to vote and push for legalization, as I’ve been doing, but I’m still not into weed.

But really, as far as the situation in question goes, I just really need the person who supposedly loved me more than anyone for several years to be okay with talking about who and what I am as a person. Sometimes I get confused (like when she coerced me into the relationship even though I kept insisting I was straight and then I suddenly really cared about her but still was never remotely sexually attracted to her which turned out to be because I’m asexual).

For now, I’ve decided to refrain from publicly identifying as anything unless asked or if I feel like it’s relevant to a discussion.

I will still identify as depressing, an asshole, et cetera. Negative identifiers are fine because I really don’t care.

Other than that, my gender and sexuality shall remain unnamed because they don’t matter much anyway in the scheme of things and I don’t want to have to worry about people flipping out if I contradict something. (God forbid I do something human.)

Coming out isn’t easy, and for some people, it may be too risky in their current situations, but for those who have had the opportunity, I hope it’s made things easier for you. If you don’t feel safe coming out publicly, perhaps confide in people you trust (if they don’t already know). I’m always here if you need to talk about your gender identity or sexuality, and I’m no expert, but I’ll do what I can because I know how tough it can be to sort through these things alone.

I woke up to an angry, semi-coherent text from Internet Ex-GF, who was angry that I wasn’t up to reply to her first angry, semi-coherent text at 8:15 in the morning. (I apologize that I don’t live in Michigan, but thank god I don’t live in Michigan*.) When last we spoke she wanted my opinion on her current girlfriend, who, for lack of better phraseology, looks a bit like she might somehow live in a Hot Topic store in 2006, and continued to do what she always does and make me out to be an awful person for not understanding my own sexuality or lack thereof, as if it’s my fault that the world doesn’t teach me how asexuals are supposed to do things, or how to quickly and easily nail down a sexual orientation (especially with next to no sexual attraction to base it on). Sorry I wasn’t sure of myself in high school, I guess? Sorry I’m still not sure of myself in my early twenties?

I think I only ever reply now to keep some sort of drama in my otherwise uneventful life. I’m not even sure I care anymore. She doesn’t even appreciate pop music or designer fashion or goth.

*I’m sorry, Michigan friends; I’m sure it’s a great place, but as a Californian, I feel I have an obligation to fulfill by pretending I’m in a much better place.