Cultural Conversation 3 - Gender & Conflict
Cultural Conversation 3: Your Experience of Gender and Conflict
It was about ten years ago that I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t a man. This was not an altogether surprising epiphany, considering that I had never performed according to the expectations of what a man should be. But before that moment I had always assumed that I was simply bad at being a man, rather than not a man at all. It wasn’t until I realized that my actions fell so far outside the norm of what a man was that I didn’t really qualify anymore.
To utter such statements, especially in front of others who are fond of you, is disconcerting to them, to say the least. There is usually a gasp, and a determined refutation that, darn it, I am so a man, along with the unstated assumption that I am being dangerously self-deprecating.
The truth is I’m just trying to be honest.
The moment came when I realized that for some I chose to be honest with my sexuality about would never accept my behavior; they would always assume a betrayal of that standard of behavior which they assumed to be absolute. For these, I would never be a man, and circumstances forced me to admit that their interpretations, if not an accurate description of reality, were a least far closer to the social norm than I would ever accept. And if it was their interpretation, then why was it necessary to subscribe to it at all?
Funny thing was, it was about five years ago that I realized that I was a man.
I had been thinking about my first girlfriend. I was only 20, she was a thoroughly fucked up 30. So it was a recipe for a disaster. We fought quite a bit, and once I go so angry that I saw her cringe.
It threw me, and I immediately stopped fighting with her. The argument had been entirely verbal, and I honestly don’t remember either wanting to hit her or even making any sort of physical movement that could be construed as threatening. I think it was entirely a response to my intensity of emotion, combined with the fact of her history of relationships, which included dating physically abusive men. Once I got angry enough, she expected me to strike her.
So about five years ago I started thinking about that moment, and I realized that I occasionally performed in the world as a man, even if I didn’t always realize it.
To drift in and out of gender roles as if they were a set of clothes, or more accurately a set of behaviors that one could assume as one wishes, posits a single unanswerable question; what am I right now?
It was about ten years ago that I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t a man. This was not an altogether surprising epiphany, considering that I had never performed according to the expectations of what a man should be. But before that moment I had always assumed that I was simply bad at being a man, rather than not a man at all. It wasn’t until I realized that my actions fell so far outside the norm of what a man was that I didn’t really qualify anymore.
To utter such statements, especially in front of others who are fond of you, is disconcerting to them, to say the least. There is usually a gasp, and a determined refutation that, darn it, I am so a man, along with the unstated assumption that I am being dangerously self-deprecating.
The truth is I’m just trying to be honest.
The moment came when I realized that for some I chose to be honest with my sexuality about would never accept my behavior; they would always assume a betrayal of that standard of behavior which they assumed to be absolute. For these, I would never be a man, and circumstances forced me to admit that their interpretations, if not an accurate description of reality, were a least far closer to the social norm than I would ever accept. And if it was their interpretation, then why was it necessary to subscribe to it at all?
Funny thing was, it was about five years ago that I realized that I was a man.
I had been thinking about my first girlfriend. I was only 20, she was a thoroughly fucked up 30. So it was a recipe for a disaster. We fought quite a bit, and once I go so angry that I saw her cringe.
It threw me, and I immediately stopped fighting with her. The argument had been entirely verbal, and I honestly don’t remember either wanting to hit her or even making any sort of physical movement that could be construed as threatening. I think it was entirely a response to my intensity of emotion, combined with the fact of her history of relationships, which included dating physically abusive men. Once I got angry enough, she expected me to strike her.
So about five years ago I started thinking about that moment, and I realized that I occasionally performed in the world as a man, even if I didn’t always realize it.
To drift in and out of gender roles as if they were a set of clothes, or more accurately a set of behaviors that one could assume as one wishes, posits a single unanswerable question; what am I right now?
posted by javaapp@gmail.com | 12:19 PM
1 Comments:
Am I less of a woman because I do not have children, because I do not wear makeup or enjoy shopping?
Are you less of a man because you write poetry, because you do not watch sports and drink beer with your buddies?
What does it mean to be a man?
What does it mean to be a woman?
The definitions provided by our parents no longer apply. We are left to struggle with the definitions of these words.
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