Alignment

At the beach, sun-soaked, salty, and stretched wide to dry. I see men with metabolisms. Men without breasts. Without belly flab. Men who do not bounce and jiggle. I am jealous. Losing my inner glow. Losing my earned calm. I wonder at them. I marvel. I cover up, curl, make myself small even as I wish to join them. To be among such men. I want to desire my body the way I desire theirs.

My relationship to men is antagonistic, skeptical. I am other. I am straight. I am cis. I identify as male. I identify with the feminine. Masculinity is an affront. I cannot relate. A man bikes uphill smiling, gasping, using what little breath he has to chant: “MASCULINE! MAS-CU-LINE! That’s masculine work ethic! MASCULINE!” And I’m embarrassed. Embarrassed for him, but also for me. Will others see me, a man, and think I’m #TeamThatGuy?

Alanis Morissette wrote a song called “Sister Blister.” A snippet:

Such tragedy to trample on each other
With how much we've endured
With the state this land is in

You and me feel joined only by gender
We are not all for one and one for all

Sister blister, we fight to please the brothers
We think their acceptance is how we win
They're happy we're climbing over each other
To beg the club of boys to let us in

“Sister Blister” is my favorite Alanis song. It’s one of my favorite songs of all time. I feel the song in my marrow. It makes my heart pump with empathy and power. I said as much to a friend of mine years ago, a woman, and she replied, “But that song is ours, it isn’t for you.”

I’m unaware of the right word. Feminist works well enough. I use that word as an identifier but it’s not a perfect word. There should be a better word for my experience. A word that matches how I feel inside and experience the world around me. Maybe the word is feminine. I’m proud to be called feminine.

One of the most exciting, liberating, and joyful things about being alive in this current era, this ambivalent moment, is watching the breakdown of gender stereotypes, of our archaic understanding of “gender” overall. The myth, the illusion, shattering.

There is much work. There is (and will continue to be) much pain. The destination is still too far way. But what a joy, nonetheless. Witnessing these necessary changes. Seeing people free themselves and become. I’m humbled with fist raised. My tears (joyous or otherwise) are not just mine. They are yours, too. And even still I understand that yours are not mine. They never could be. But I am on your side.

You and me, in alignment until the end.