When I started blogging I wanted to create a site that was a little different than most of the websites that I saw. The internet is a wonderful way for us to connect with each (and receive poorly written unsolicited private messages that start with “your beautiful”) but it’s also a way for us to write about what we’re thinking, feeling, and wishing for.
Many girls like me were writing about their journey, their frustrations, their accomplishments, and their anguish. They felt tormented by who they were. They were conflicted by their gender identity. I have nothing but sympathy for anyone who is pained by who they are. I know that who we are complicates our lives and relationships (to say the least) but who we are is wonderful.
And that was the approach I wanted to write about. I love having two gender identities. I love who I am. I love who YOU are. I wanted to write about the joy of having a femme side, even if it was hidden. I wanted to touch on who we are in a humorous way. Who I am, and who you are, is worth celebrating. Acknowledge this side of you, accept who you are, and embrace it.
Of course, I am not naive and I do not think this is as easy as it sounds. A few years ago I was walking to a restaurant and the sidewalk was a brick covered path. My stilettos kept getting caught between the bricks and I was constantly stepping out of my heel. Although I was looking and feeling amazing, my journey was not without frustrations. And girls, if that isn’t a metaphor for who we are, I don’t know what is.
I like to think I am well-adjusted, considering my bi-genderness. I like to think I balance life well living in-between my male side and as Hannah. I feel content regardless if I am wearing jeans or a little black dress. I am happy, and I hope that my website conveys that. Sure, I am frustrated and get depressed at times, whether it is a law being passed that targets the transgender community or something shallow and trivial like my eyeliner not cooperating, but for the most part I am really content.
My sense of humor is pretty dry and often times people don’t know if I am joking or not. I like to think I am clever and the titles of my blog posts are often a reference to a song lyric or something related to pop culture. Sometimes I think everyone will get the reference but that is not always the case. But for those that do, I hope it makes you smile… because it make me smile and I think I am hilarious.
Over the last couple weeks I received a couple messages and comments on Twitter telling me to lighten up. They had been reading my site for a while and said I was nothing but doom and gloom. Another told me to smile more. Of course my reaction was this:
Instinctively my first response to most things is to be a little bitchy. But I try not to react quickly and I give myself a little time to respond. Humor is usually the way I go. But humor can usually be multi-layered. This response is an acknowledgment that many men
UM HANNAH NOT ALL MEN
….yes, I know, not all men. Anyway many men tell girls that they’d be prettier if they smiled more. This response is a little sarcastic, a little passive-aggressive, and a little dark humor.
At any rate, I was surprised to get these messages. I like to think my writings are (for the most) a little lighthearted and focuses on the positivity of who we are. Sure, I have photos where I am not smiling (in an attempt to look like a bad-ass bitch) but I also have pictures that are a little silly.
I have had many moments in my life where I can empathize with what many women experience. Whether it is frustration with my foundation being discontinued or with something more serious, it’s quite unnerving to have interactions with some men
UM HANNAH NOT ALL MEN
….yes, I know, God, not all men. It’s quite unnerving to get photos of their… uh, anatomy in a private message, to be approached in public, and to be (awkwardly) hit on, either online or in real life.
When these things happen, my first thought is that I wish they would leave me alone.
Don’t tell me to smile, don’t ask me out, don’t send that picture.