It’s taken me a long time to have a better relationship with my feminine side. For the majority of my life, I was convinced that it didn’t exist–that I was a tomboy who was naturally more masculine and androgynous. 

In fifth grade, long before I came out as gay, I had this burning desire to cut my hair. I’d wanted to cut it for a while, and I don’t remember specifically why.

My mom kept not letting me, probably hoping it was just a phase that I’d get over before I made a drastic decision that I couldn’t just grow back overnight. Eventually, my persistence wore her down and she agreed to let me.

Cutting my hair

I couldn’t wait, and the feeling when I finally got it cut was amazing. It was barely longer than a buzz cut. Nothing stylish, just something typical, like any usual boy would get at that age. 

It’s not that I wanted to be a boy. I just didn’t want my long hair. And I just didn’t like girly clothing. Or heels. Or dolls. Or makeup. Or other girly things. I just felt so much like I didn't fit anywhere. 

Cutting my hair at that point became really disorienting for me with my gender. Not because of my hair in itself, but I remember people’s hurtful reactions to it. 

Dreading public bathrooms

I remember a day my family was at the movie theater and I went to use the bathroom, but when I went into the women's room, all the women looked shocked, like something terrible had happened. 

It turns out the terrible thing was me, who they thought was a boy in the women’s restroom.

Some of them quelled their discomfort by asking if I was lost or looking for someone. They automatically assumed I didn’t belong there. I couldn't bear to tell them that I was in fact a girl; the damage was already done. It’d feel like if you’d only been invited to a party after you made a big deal about how you weren't invited.

And at that age, 10 years old or so, that embarrassing and shameful feeling was so heavy that I couldn't bear to set foot in a women's bathroom. I couldn’t bear other women looking disgusted by me. 

Using the men’s bathroom

So I’d start going to the men’s bathroom. It’s not that I was confused about my gender, I just didn’t want to feel this immense shame every time I had to use the bathroom. 

I felt scared there with those grown men because I knew I didn’t belong there, and I’d wondered if they knew it. But at least they didn’t have a disgusted look on their faces when they saw me. 

I couldn’t let my mom see me go into a men’s room, though. No way she would have allowed that. So I’d devised a workaround so I could make it into a woman’s room to see if the coast was clear for me to pee in peace. 

Devising a plan

I’d go into the women's room and act a little lost and confused, and if there were other women in there washing their hands, I'd say, “Mom? Are you here?” and then walk back outside if there were women. That way they wouldn't feel the need to tell me I didn’t belong there, It was like I announced it for them by not walking in as casually as any other girl does. 

If the coast was clear and I could walk in without anyone seeing me, the battle was only halfway through. Then, I’d need to make it out of the stall and wash my hands before someone else came in. 

You can imagine, this was really stressful. And I couldn't really talk to anyone about it. No one understood. I imagined they’d say “So what? You belong in the women’s room, so just go into the women’s room,” but I couldn’t explain the feeling of dread and embarrassment I had each time with being told with just a look that I wasn’t “woman enough.”

Maybe an easier way would’ve been to dress more feminine, but that didn’t feel natural for me. Even a women’s cut t-shirt left me feeling so exposed and uncomfortable. 

I never wanted to let anyone know how much it hurt me and stressed me out every time I had to use a public bathroom. I didn’t want my mom to worry, and I was afraid to be guilted for how I should've never cut my hair so this wouldn't happen. 

The guy I had a “crush” on

Another girl cut her hair the same year as me, and I remember kids at school assumed she was gay. Maybe people made the assumption that I was too, but I was probably too isolated to hear what they’d say about me. I was in my own little world most of the time. 

(Funny enough, yes, I did end up being gay, but I didn’t realize it until almost a decade later.)

I even had a “boyfriend” the following year: Vincent. Well, I don't think we were actually together. I just had a crush on him. And he entertained the idea of having someone around who liked him. He played drums. But he wasn’t exactly the nicest. He’d make fun of me and my haircut and call me a sheman or hemale.

I thought that’s what a crush was, the feeling I felt about that boy. In my 11-year old brain, that’s what I equated liking someone was, is being mean and making fun of them, but then being nice sometimes, too. 

It took me almost a decade to realize I was actually confused about what feelings of attraction really were, that the “crush” feeling I was having was nothing more than a feeling of wanting to spend time with a boy, enjoying their company as a friend or brotherly figure.

I eventually realized that the feeling of butterflies and a stomach ache of true attraction was actually something I had around women, I’d just mistaken it for so long because I assumed I must be straight, it wasn’t a question to even consider otherwise. 

Then it took me almost another decade to realize that I didn’t need to be in relationships with people who weren’t nice to me, that I’m worth setting boundaries to protect myself, and that true love is kind.

Reflecting on my views about feminine energy

Looking back, there was something about feminine energy that I was repelled by for most of my life. Even though I was attracted to women, there was a feminine energy that frankly I didn’t know how to deal with. It was scary, intimidating. 

Feminine energy was my mom when I was little, who wanted me to wear dresses and like doing girly stuff. Feminine energy was those women in the movie theater bathrooms who looked at me with disgust, who told me that I didn’t belong. 

I was convinced for a long time that I just wasn’t that feminine. 

Over time though, I’ve realized that I did in fact have a feminine energy part of me, but that it felt much more vulnerable and exposed. I had to learn how to express it in a way that still felt authentic to me. 

I tried wearing more feminine or low cut shirts for a while, but it felt like I was putting my body on display, and I’d much rather people be interested in my ideas than my body. 

Getting in touch with my femininity

It’s taken several years for me to get in touch with my feminine energy, and to also not be repelled by close intimacy with other women with high femininity. 

It’s nice to not need to feel like I need to be tough. I’ve been getting more in touch with what feminine energy looks like in an authentic way for me. It’s still pretty androgynous, but there’s an ability to be in touch with my super emotional and sensitive side and not need to pretend like it’s not there. I cry often, sometimes from grief, sometimes from joy. 

I’m pretty sensitive, and over the past several years, I’ve learned to embrace that instead of trying to toughen up and “fix” it. 

The desire to be a mom

Getting in touch with the feminine energy I believe has opened up for me the more that I’ve healed from different traumas in my life. Getting in touch with that has also made it clear for me that I want to have kids and have a family. 

For a while, I was ambivalent about the idea of having kids, but in recent years, the more work I’ve done, especially with the relationship with my mother, the more that I’ve felt the internal pull towards raising kids. 

I was recently watching a TV series called The Fosters, about a lesbian couple raising their kids, and just watching the beautiful representation of moments of everyday life as a queer family was enough to bring me to tears multiple times, realizing that that’s what I’m finally clear that I want for myself. 

Continuing to evolve

Anyway, I’m sure the current version of me is not the final product, adn that I still have more layers to peel back and new discoveries to make about myself.

But it’s nice to know that the thing that once scared and repelled me is now something that I’ve come to make peace with, not just in the people around me, but in myself as well.