People never get tired of talking about this deadly-feared monster – heteronormativity, but they sometimes fail to see so many other two or multiple-headed ones.
I don’t go out quite often, but when I do I get a lot of hostility even in Bucharest if I decide to dress without any constraints. Take my last experience in a very well-know-very-hip-recently-moved-gay-friendly-club. I was wearing a strangely large , strangely fit gown – white, grey, mint – resembling the outfits of mental health facilities patients, comfortable and yet too austere. That’s why I had to put on my plastic colorful tiara. I added then a panda-head shaped velvet bag.
Women and girly girls generally dislike me. Of course, the feeling is mutual most of the times. I have never considered myself a woman in that Romanian vulgar-pouted-lips-I-know-what-femininity-stands-for way. I have never been a girly girl either, although, whoever-is-up-there knows I’ve tried. Wearing make-up around the house in the 7th grade, browsing through Avon and Oriflame magazines, ordering obnoxious quantities of products that would inevitably expire in dusty corners of my bathroom – I grew more and more bitter and started to feel the whole ridicule of trying to live up to some gender role someone else has already decided for you.
Then again, I am not a feminist either. I am not gay, nor straight, not boyish, not girlish, not a woman, not a man and well…it seems that everybody has a problem with it. From the fundamentalist, misogynist next-door beer drinker neighbor, to the pink-shaded telephone-addicted-fashionista and back to the so-called-open-minded-away-from-traditional-gender-roles hipster.
I felt unwanted that night, like my presence was bothering everybody’s comfort zones. Of course, I am exaggerating – many people were respectfully ignoring me, which is reinvigorating sometimes. What I did notice was an attitude appropriate for the Crangasi Market or other such places, mainly from the girls : plain what-do-you-think-you-are-doing looks, drawing outside the lines we as the-cool-people-of-this-place are desperately trying not to violate?
So stop wearing your T-shirts that speak about freedom or that want to inspire carelessness. The fact is that you care too much, you envy and you hate. The fact that you are out late at night in some you-have-to-be-there place in Bucharest doesn’t make you more free-spirited than those who wake up early in the morning and stare with disgust whenever I pass by.
Judging or hating at a different time of day doesn’t make you less of a judge. What repels me the most is a discourse about love and toleration coming from the mouth of all the haters in this world. It’s true, these haters sometimes have a good sense of style – but they’re still fucking peasants as far as I can see, to quote John Lennon.
As I distance myself from all of this, I can still hear their desperate laughter…I always do. I write so I can feel less hurt, but it still hurts. That is why they hate me so much – because as they are establishing verdicts , they know that I can feel something more complex than their immature, insignificant self-reassuring hatred.
Some people call that love.
I prefer “understanding”.
pictures by Ionut