Yesterday around 6.30pm, I stormed around the house looking for plans to entertain myself instead of hitting the books. A hair clip sitting on the cupboard caught my sight, therefore I grabbed it & went for the mirror in the office. Finally a solution to fix my grass-like bangs, I thought. With a little swish swash, the hairdo's done, I stared at myself, unknowingly feeling a slight dissatisfaction towards the image reflected on the glass.
I realised that I did not like the way I was presented to society.
Modelled like some A class student with geeky hair just missing her thick glasses, I pulled off the hair clip causing an unintentional pompadour standing above my forehead. Fingers began to violently play with my side locks while my facial senses gave a confused & dejected look. The turf-like hair was a result of an untrimmed pixie cut looking forward to become dashing long hair. This clear idea slapped me awake, questioning me the same question that never left since I was 5. Who am I trying to become?
If you're once or currently a close ally of mine, you should had noticed the constant irritating changes of my hair length since late primary school. When it was long, I would want it short; When it's short for some time, I would want it to be long again. And the cycle flows on till this day. My gray matter fought the war & lit up the lightbulb, forcing the evoke of the reasons why I do such repeating actions. In a sudden I realised, short boycuts are my ever identity, but I keep them long to match the cast I was fixed to be, not the one I am.
Recalling my childhood afflictions opens up the wound. Shopping the boy's department, invading the Hotwheels section in Toys R' Us, picking on drums instead of ballet. All these divergence that are now no longer uncommon meant something. Even my macho personality kills it. Guessed it or not, this once lead me to think I was gay, but it felt so wrong; I never once had feelings for a person whom I share the same gender with, and my crushes are laid on men. So it was concluded that me being gay was impossible. Thus I'm bisexual neither (this probably needs time to tell me so), leading me to the familiar one of a kind.
Well it's not exactly surprising, but I'm a tomboy for sure. For those who aren't sure about the term, here's wikipedia for you. Being one doesn't actually terrifies me as I find it a cool fitting in society, but what I'm scared of is the probability of me being bigender. Contrary to bisexual, bigenders still fall in love with the person they share the opposite sex with. But what's heavy that this word's carrying is that it refers to the constant switching of genders varying to situations & dysphoria is present. Now, what's on me is I don't own the constant gender swapping part, I can only imagine myself falling in love with men, but I'm positive that my hair switches play a sign as gender dysphoria. So if you question me, am I bigender? The answer's I don't know. It all lands on time to execute its thing.
 |
| Ellen Page's my tomboy bae. <3 |
To be honest, writing this post's so hard. Revealing my true identity feels amazing, but the surroundings that matter owns a mild chance of grabbing acceptance. For instance, my parents. They would flip if they find out, and it's only the matter of time for it to occur. Plus they wouldn't allow me another boycut. It sucks being locked as someone you're not for the pride of others. I swear Asian parents are not as nonjudgmental as the Americans.
To wrap the ribbon around the edge, I'm just going to continue being me because hey, I don't live for others but for myself. It doesn't matter if you refuse to accept the logic, only my opinions weight. Could use the support. And check out this short film 'Boy', love it so much as it somehow relates. Would also love to express my respect for the people who came out to their true individuality, may the force always be with you!
Have a wonderful week & I'll see you soon. :)
Alanis xx.
No comments:
Post a Comment