I dress like I have something to prove. Which, of course, I do.
I think anybody who has struggled to explain or defend their identity will understand me: wielding that proof can be powerful, but it can also take a heavy toll. There’s not much room for experimentation or deviation. A comfortable identity allows for those things, but a guarded one does not.
Many times on Hchom, I’ve talked about my wish to dress more bravely, in a broader variety of clothing; but when I follow through, it always feels like I’ve given up ground. Rationally it shouldn’t be an issue, and don’t even get me started on how unfair it is that androgynous defaults to masculine; but alas, personal history seldom respects what is rational!
I’m not getting any younger, you guys, and I don’t know who I’m trying to impress with this shit. The world being what it is right now, I feel like I’d better step up and be myself as completely as I possibly can.
So a couple weeks ago, I dove off the deep end and wore a dress to the opera. It must seem like a fairly underwhelming victory to anyone not inside my head, but this was my shot, and I took it. More than that, I thought it turned out rather boyish – which is to say, I actually felt like myself.