Alfred Kinsey announced to the world in the late 40’s that sexual orientation could be measured on a scale, with full range rather than a black and white snapshot, providing a reason for experimentation between many a college student. For the most part, by the open-minded folks of the world, Kinsey’s scale is at least acknowledged, even sometimes in jest, but what is not as readily acknowledged is the scale on which gender also falls. Some folks just think a boy is a boy and a girl is a girl (and both should act “like” their respective genders).

My own understanding of sexual orientation and gender change everyday. I remember in high school and in college, even after I came out, feeling like because I wasn’t as feminine as my female friends that that must mean I was masculine. If not feminine, masculine – because there were only two options, right? This belief caused a great deal of fear and odd behavior in me, including a few attempts at really forced ultra girly behavior, like an insistence that I was “super into” makeup and other traditional lady things.

“I just bought this amazing handbag from the gap!” I gushed to my coworkers one summer as I returned from a shopping trip.
“Really? You don’t really seem like the handbag type.”
“Who, me? You are kidding me!! I love this shit!”

You can add some sort of hair-flip, and maybe even a tennis skirt. This embarrassing admission is not the worst part of my fear of inadequate femininity. I even developed a deep-seated fear that I would be mistaken for a guy in a public place. To be clear, I am not traditionally “masculine” –I wear makeup, jewelry and ’s clothing – so why this fear that a stranger might think I was male?

“Oh, waitress, thanks so much for that coffee refill! Just a couple of girls at the Denny’s tonight catching up on some gossip!”

Really. I pointed out to servers that it was “ladies night” and I referred to myself as “girl” or [insert feminine descriptor here] when I retold stories:

“So, Kim was like, ‘Damn girl! I love that skirt!’ and I was like, ‘Well bitch, it is yours!’”

Women’s clothes didn’t seem to fit right all the time, I didn’t dance like my friends, I didn’t flirt like them – I wasn’t as feminine. At the time I felt that my identity, or my gender expression, or whatever term I didn’t know at the time was so different from that of my feminine friends that I must appear masculine to others. I felt like you had to be one or the other.

It has been a couple years since I’ve gotten over this fear, and, to be honest, I almost forgot how the fear of not being feminine plagued me. I’m guessing mostly by being surrounded by a different group of friends who embodied a range of gender identities and masculine/feminine appearances. I became for comfortable with where I fell on the femininity scale. I forgot that I ever had that fear. I forgot, that is, until last week when I rented the BCC movie of  Sarah Waters’ “Tipping the Velvet” and watched how the main character successfully dons men’s clothing and ventures out into the city posed as a young man.  I really enjoyed the movie, but I scoffed a little at the premise – was the implication that if I put on a man’s suit and introduced myself as John that people would take me as a man? I doubted it.

Connecting these two concepts was hard for me – I used to harbor such a fear that I would be mistaken for a man, but today I think it would take quite a bit more than a man’s suit to make me look like I was male. Then I felt too masculine, now I feel not masculine enough (to appear as a man).

What makes one masculine? Sure, it might be features—a strong jaw line, broad shoulders, but maybe its also movement – a swagger in the walk, hands in pockets, and attitude – do men have a different presence than women?

I don’t have a desire to be male, but thinking about these issues makes me more understanding of the range of gender identity that is independent from the range of sexual orientation. Masculine or feminine are not black and white. There is a range. Living as the gender identity you most strongly align with is not as easy as wearing men’s clothing. “Cross-dressing” and short haircuts are not the same as appearing male, or becoming male – and sometimes the two things are mutually exclusive. Some gals with short hair dressed in men’s clothing have no interest in appearing as men.

What I write here is obviously from the perspective of women appearing as men, as this is part of my experience – so I’d love to hear some thoughts about how the range of gender identity and masculinity/femininity affect men.