Moot was a designer who wanted lingerie options for everyone, regardless of their gender identity or their anatomy. I love lingerie and I always look for new places to shop, especially for people like ourselves.
I was very much taken off guard when they announced last week they were wrapping up their business. I’ve been writing about Moot and wearing their items in photo shoots for years. I’m really sad about this news. I got to know the Moot team over time and they were always sincere, enthusiastic, and supportive. Lovely people all around.
This is the second lingerie designer for gender nonconforming people that has closed in less than a year. Last June HommeMystere also announced their closing.
I think any small business would be a challenge to run, and I think a business aimed at a very niche, but very dedicated community, doesn’t make it any easier. A business like Moot is very much a passion project.
One of the challenges, according to Moot, was staying visible on social media, such as Instagram. With such an intimate product it’s not difficult to be flagged as pornography by an algorithm. I don’t like going down the paranoia rabbit hole but I do wonder if companies like Victoria’s Secret run into issues like this. I wonder if the demographic that Moot targets has something to do with their social media issues.
I’ll always have the beautiful lingerie from Moot in my dresser, but I am sad knowing that I can’t add more of their gorgeous, hand-made panties to my wardrobe.
When I was younger I would borrow my mom’s clothes and makeup . When I was older I bought my own clothes but always ended up purging but would soon buy more. I was wondering why I keep doing this. Am I afraid? I’m wondering if you had any insight on the matter.
This cycle is all too familiar for almost every person reading this website.
I won’t pretend to speak for you and I don’t want to be presumptuous. I can only offer my perspective based on my experiences and thoughts.
The simpler answer is first: We continue to purchase “girl clothes” because we love “girl clothes”. It’s not unlike going to our favorite restaurants every week or rereading a beloved book. There are a myriad of reasons why we love what we love and there’s (usually) nothing wrong with what we love. I can’t say why you love what you love. Perhaps panties turn you on, perhaps a nightgown feels, well, right. Perhaps a dress represents your (or perhaps one of your) gender identities.
But why do you purge? Why do any of us purge? Again, it’s likely a myriad of reasons. To your point, yes, it’s possible one of the reasons is that you are afraid. I’m not exactly sure what you are afraid of. Perhaps you are afraid of what all of this means. Some of us are afraid that the happiness, the peace, that certain clothes bring us may mean that we have a gender identity that we haven’t fully acknowledged or accepted. We might be afraid that we are in denial about who we are.
If we allow ourselves to accept (and hopefully eventually embrace) who we are, it might mean that we may make changes in our lives. I think oftentimes these changes seem overwhelming or consequential.
I think it’s important (and rewarding) to live an authentic life. To be true to yourself. Being true to yourself is different from person to person, especially when it comes to someone who is gender nonconforming. This might mean that transitioning is right for you, but it doesn’t always mean that. It’s not right for me. This, like almost anything, is something that only you (with perhaps with the help of a therapist) can determine.
Any life change will likely bring, well, changes. Ripples in the water, if you will. If we accept who we are, it might mean coming out to others. We may come out as a transgender woman, or as a crossdresser, or as nonbinary… we may not even know. We may even change how we identity over time.
Coming out to someone, as we all know, is risky. They may love us, they may hate us. It may not change anything, it may cause someone to never speak to us again. No one wants to be hated, none of us want our gender identity or our wardrobe to be the reason a family member or a lifelong friend ends a relationship. So yes, I think fear is one of the reasons we purge.
When I purged it was a combination of fear and guilt and denial. I was afraid of someone finding my panties. I was (and am) aware of the stigma that crossdressing has. I was aware that what I wore would be minimized as a fetish in the eyes of someone (not that there’s anything with a crossdressing fetish).
It took me a long time to stop denying who I am. I denied that this side of me was woven into me and wouldn’t ever leave. The ironic thing is that I never WANTED this side of me to disappear, but I was tired of living with the fear of being caught and the potential fallout from that. I always thought I could stop wearing what I wore and what I wanted to wear and I naively thought that if I didn’t own panties I would stop wearing them. I just wouldn’t buy any new panties… and we all know how THAT worked out.
Finally, guilt is a common reason we purge. We may feel guilty because boys are raised being told that pink is for girls and that boys don’t cry and that beauty is for girls and strength is for boys. Arbitrary and nonsensical gender roles and stereotypes that are useless. We may feel guilty because of religious reasons. We may feel guilty because we are keeping this hidden from our spouse. We feel guilty because our spouse found the panties we were hiding from her and we promised we would never wear girl clothes ever again… but we know how that usually turns out.
So, why do you purge? I don’t know but it might be one or all of these reasons. I hope you find peace with this side of yourself and accept that there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful part of your soul.
Love, Hannah
Have a question for me? Oh yes you do. Ask me here!
Like most things I write, this was meant to be about something else but it veered off into another direction and I just ran with it. I am easily distracted in many aspects of my life and writing isn’t much different. This article is about experiencing the world en femme but also acknowledging that I will likely never experience everything that most cisgender women experience. After all, a woman’s experience isn’t always heels and pencil skirts, oftentimes the experiences highlight gender inequality.
Going out en femme can be terrifying for the first time as well as for the millionth time. However, for the most part, it gets easier each time one struts out of the house.
We worry about passing or getting read or people knowing we are transgender. I don’t think that passing is real and I think if we wait until we “pass” to experience the world we risk staying home forever.
I don’t think anyone on the planet will ever mistake me for a cisgender girl. And that’s fine because they are absolutely correct. I am not a cisgender girl. I am trans. In a way, it’s not unlike someone knowing I am right-handed. I am right-handed, lol. What matters is how someone will respond to me, a trans girl.
Over the last fifteen years or so of going out, almost all of my experiences have been overwhelmingly positive or incredibly mundane, Mundane experiences are lovely. Like, the barista or the salesclerk or the person holding the door for me couldn’t care less that I am trans. Each person I interact with has a choice regarding how they choose to respond to me. If they didn’t like trans people they probably wouldn’t hold the door open for me and they probably wouldn’t engage in small talk as they ring up my purchase.
Everybody knows I am transgender and very, very few people have gone out of their way to make sure they know that they “don’t agree with my lifestyle” of whatever. But these haters are just a drop in the ocean of support, love, kindness, and, well, apathy.
I spent a recent Saturday at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. I go there often for a few reasons. I love art and it’s a lovely, peaceful way to spend a few hours after a busy and stressful week. Another reason is that it’s in the same building as the Children’s Theatre Company where I frequently see plays. I usually wander around the museum before I see a performance.
But I also go there because I always have a positive and affirming visit as a gender nonconforming person. It’s not uncommon for someone to compliment my dress or marvel at how I can manage all those steps in *those* heels. I don’t really think that, as a rule, “crossdresser friendly” businesses exists but if they did, I think museums, based on my experiences, would be on that list.
Also, if you are an art lover, you are probably aware of how many artists are/were queer. Chances are that museum patrons are supportive, or at least tolerant, of the LGBTQ+ community.
This past Saturday was, unbeknownst to me, the annual fundraising event that the museum holds, well, annually. That’s how annual fundraisers work. Anyway, the museum was featuring beautiful floral arrangements from a local florist so in addition to the normal museum goers on a rainy Saturday, and the visitors there to help raise donations, there were also people there to look at the flowers.
Essentially the museum was PACKED. When I walked in I quickly realized that this was not going to be a typical, low-key Saturday afternoon. As a t-girl I used to be nervous around that many people. I mean, the more people the more likely it is that there will be someone who feels it’s appropriate or their responsibility to let me know that my aforementioned lifestyle isn’t to their liking.
But years and years of busy malls have calmed this fear. Frequent visits to this museum have also shown me that I was in a safe place, even if the crowds are larger than usual.
I was dressed for a play that evening, so I was a little more glammed up than I normally would be for a day out. I spent some time at a coffee shop and popped by a bookstore and I probably was the only girl in both places dressed for a night at the theatre. I was reminded of this as I parked my car and walked into the museum.
I felt perfectly attired for the museum, actually. Yes, there were countless people in sensible shoes (whatever those are) and hoodies and leggings, but there were also other girls there in gorgeous gowns. This particular museum is absolutely breathtaking when it comes to architecture and it is not unusual for girls to take pictures there before a formal event. This Saturday was obviously prom for many high schools and there were dozens of teenagers in floor length gowns.
This is the outfit I wore, and these are the stilettos I strutted around in.
I think I looked amazing, lol.
The dress was a thrift store find and the heels are from OnlyMaker. The heels are higher than what I normally wear so I was even taller than usual.
At my most optimistic, I really don’t think there are as many people in the world that hate us. I know there is a lot of fearmongering and legislation against us, but with around eight billion people on earth I think these haters make up a smaller percentage than we think it does. The haters are just loud, that’s all. This volume can be mistaken for the majority but I don’t necessarily think this is always the norm.
More people in a museum or a mall or whatever does increase the likelihood of a hater, though. I mean, that’s how statistics and probability works, right? However, if I am feeling optimistic, it also increases the likelihood of positive experiences, right?
This day brought four different moments that ranged from affirming to being a confidant.
After about fifteen minutes of wandering the exhibit featuring art and sculpture from Asia, someone approached me and asked where I buy my heels. I told him and he said he has pairs from them as well but has a hard time walking in them. He was keeping his voice down and it seemed to me that he wanted to keep our conversation discreet. Fair enough and absolutely understandable and relatable. We chatted for a minute or so about balance, momentum, posture, and heel-toe, heel-toe, and that walking in heels isn’t the same as walking in “boy shoes”. He thanked me and disappeared into the crowd.
Was I read? Did this guy know that I am transgender? Obviously. I mean, it’s never a surprise to me that someone sees me and figures out that I am not a cisgender girl. I have too many features that are traditionally thought of as masculine. One or two on their own is one thing, but between my jawline, my adam’s apple, my height, my frame… it doesn’t take much to piece it all together.
I was absolutely fine with being read here. It wasn’t about gender or anything like that, it was a quick chat between two people who likely have similar experiences when it comes to finding heels that fit.
I kept exploring the museum and I rounded a corner when a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, looked up and her eyes widened. “Whoa”, was all she said. I imagine to many children they are used to being around giant adults, but when the adult is wearing five inch stilettos the effect is more pronounced.
I said hi, and she said hi back. Her mom was there and we exchanged hellos and smiles.
“She’s really tall!” she said to her mom after I stepped away.
“High heels can make someone taller”, her mom replied.
A few moments later the mom handed me her phone and I took a photo of them in front of a demon statue from Japan.
It was getting time to meet Shannonlee in the theatre lobby so I made my way to the museum entrance. I sat on a bench and a few minutes later two ladies sat next to me. They were older than I was, perhaps in their late sixties. We chatted for a few minutes and one of them leaned over and said “you’re transexual, aren’t you?”
I winced a tiny bit at what I feel is an outdated term but I decided to be polite and said that I was. She smiled and said that she knew it. We chatted for about a half hour about the weather, past productions of the theatre, and other things.
Again, was I read? Yaaas. Did I mind? No. She was polite and not a single thing changed in our conversation. I imagined she was a bit of an oversharer and perhaps she also says whatever is on her mind even if the comment isn’t necessarily something you just… ask someone. I mean, asking someone if they are transgender within a few minutes of meeting someone isn’t usually appropriate.
But I didn’t mind because she didn’t converse with me any differently. I don’t care if someone knows I am transgender (after all, I am) but if they interact with me in a different way BECAUSE I am transgender, then I am bothered by it.
The play we were attending was the opening night of the production. The Children’s Theatre pulls out all the stops on opening night and they roll out a literal red carpet and usually have a faaaaancy reception before the play. One of the ladies I was chatting with nudged me and said “Isn’t that…”
And it was. It was Jacob Frey, the mayor of Minneapolis.
Before anyone gets too worked up, the mayor isn’t that popular or liked. Republicans hate him because he’s a Democrat and Democrats hate him because he isn’t very progressive. From my perspective he’s kind of hard to pin down in terms of what decisions he will make. There’s nothing inherently wrong with a conservative liberal, but I think if you are the leader of a city or a community than your job is to serve the people. Minneapolis is a fairly progressive city, but I don’t feel that the mayor is as progressive as his constituents elected him to be.
I walked him to said I was sorry to bother him but I had never met a mayor before. He asked my name, we had about a minute of small talk, and then he was pulled away by someone else.
It was an unusual way to end the reception but it was also kind of random and funny.
The day was really lovely. I looked cute, my heels, despite how they looked were comfortable, the play was fun, and the world reminded me once again how wonderful it can be.
I love your makeup! It looks so good, can you help me with some ideas?
Thank you! I love my makeup as well but I can’t take credit for it. Almost every time I’ve gone out in the last few years I’ve had my makeup done by Cajah Salon. I’m not bad at my own makeup but I’ll never, ever be as good as my makeup artist.
Every person has different skin and face shape and facial structure and makeup goals. Different products and different techniques work differently on different people. And! Your makeup process and products will likely change over time. I’m amazed at how often I am reminded about how much I don’t know about makeup. I leave it to the experts.
Many salons offer makeup services and many also offer makeup lessons. Yes, this might be out of your comfort zone but I would recommend looking into options like that and chatting with an artist. They should be able to suggest products and techniques that work for YOUR face and skin. Again, it may be out of your comfort zone but I think it will be worth it.
Love, Hannah
Have a question for me? Oh yes you do. Ask me here!
This Saturday I attended the premier of the Children’s Theatre Company‘s production of ‘A Year with Frog and Toad’. This wonderful, cozy play was based on the series of books written and illustrated by Arnold Lobel.
Growing up I found comfort in the simple and reassuring small adventures of these two best friends. There were no epic adventures or perilous journeys, just the simple and relatable moments of their day as they enjoyed the snow or tried to resist fresh-baked cookies. I was excited and curious to see how the CTC brought these two to life on stage.
Annnnnd I was delighted. The actors who played the eponymous amphibians were charismatic and lovely. Their personalities distinct but you could sense the sincerity of their friendship. In some movies where you have an easy-going character (such as Frog) as well as a character who is just a little short-tempered (Toad), their friendship isn’t reallllly believable and you wonder why the friendly one tolerates the other. Not here. Although there is a bit of an Odd Couple dynamic both friends are likable and aren’t simple one-dimensional portrayals.
Children’s Theatre Company production of “A Year With Frog And Toad” by Glen Stubbe Photography, Sunday, April 21, 2024
The cast is rounded out with three other actors who played primarily played a bird chorus but also other smaller roles such as a turtle, a mouse, and hands down the audience favorite, the earnest and determined snail.
Children’s Theatre Company production of “A Year With Frog And Toad” by Glen Stubbe Photography, Sunday, April 21, 2024
The music and singing was catchy and absolutely earworm worthy. The stage effects and set were simple and effective. The scary story segment was my favorite part of the show.
Children’s Theatre Company production of “A Year With Frog And Toad” by Glen Stubbe Photography, Sunday, April 21, 2024
What a wonderful, comforting play. I really would like to thank the CTC for the invitation and for a magical night.
Our favorite wisdom and insight provider is back with her latest episode of Help Me, Hannah! Hannah McKnight tackles the importance of shapewear this episode – and bares all to show us what it takes to achieve those curves and smooth those lines using some of our most popular shapewear such as slimmers, cinchers and corsets! As always, Hannah delivers with her usual wit and charm to help us get the look we want when we step out in that dress or outfit. Watch Now>>
This is the longest video we’ve done and was one of the more humbling ones lol. I hope you enjoy it! I love doing these things.
So, I have a boss. My boss also has a boss. He in turn also has a boss. This would be my Great Grandpa Boss, I suppose.
In the almost six years I have been with the college where I work, I have never, ever spoken to Great Grandpa Boss (GGB).
Until a couple of weeks ago.
Each week my team has a Zoom meeting with another team and most of the time GGB pops in and he usually just listens but on rare occasions he will offer his thoughts. He’s a smart guy and I don’t want to portray him as out of touch but sometimes when a manager or whatever is that far up the leadership ladder they are not always aware of the challenges people in other roles face.
My school has made some… questionable financial decisions in the last few years and the cyclical nature of college enrollment sometimes makes it difficult to accurately predict how the upcoming year will shake out. This year is like that. Colleges are expensive to maintain and colleges, and, at least in the United States, can be expensive to attend. Declining enrollment, influenced by things outside of our control, usually leads to financial problems.
I don’t think my college will be closing anytime soon or ever, but last week, for the first time I’ve been with the school, they laid off five to ten percent of the staff. Considering that, alongside declining enrollment, and the aforementioned questionable financial decisions, it makes things a little… twitchy.
During a recent Zoom meeting GGB did something he’s never done before. He asked the team for their thoughts on “the current situation”. Predictably, crickets. I mean, who wants to risk saying anything that could come across as criticism?
Apparently I do.
After a few moments of tense silence that could be cut with a stiletto, I offered my thoughts. Mind you, I didn’t mention the business decisions he made but after twenty years in education it’s easy to see patterns in education and the ups and downs of college enrollment. Although there are things outside of our control, certain factors, such as employment statistics, are usually a telltale sign when it comes to college enrollment.
What I mean is that if the unemployment rate is high, colleges see an increase in people going back to school to learn new skills and to be more marketable. The opposite of this is true. If you have been paying attention, declining college enrollment shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.
Essentially, this could have been predicted and the current environment could have been planned for. MAYBE we shouldn’t have made the business decisions we did and spent the millions we did when anyone with a passing familiarity with patterns would have seen the current environment coming. I mean, aren’t industry trends and history important when it comes to planning for the future?
I know I overthink but none of this is, in my opinion, is overthinking. It’s simply paying attention. I am not freaking out because I saw this coming.
Anyway, back to the meeting.
I carefully offered my thoughts. I slowly chose my words. I avoided any phrasing that sounded like criticism. I stuck to the facts, metrics, statistics, and what history has shown us. I was nervous the whole time and kept telling myself to stooooooooooop. Eventually I did.
As I was babbling away, I looked at my boss in the little square to gauge his reaction. I mean, it’s kinda risky when your employee is engaging with your boss’ boss. I was afraid I was crossing a line but considering he wasn’t gritting his teeth with a wide-eyed stare I took that as a good sign.
The call ended, and I waited for my boss to call me. His boss tends to overreact and calls him the moment anything happens. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he yelled at my boss for my comments, not necessarily for what I said, but for simply engaging with his boss and offering anything less than a perspective that everything is awesome.
But that call never came so I chalked it up as maybe I didn’t do anything wrong.
Morbid curiosity and paranoia got the best of me so a few days later I asked my boss if I committed a faux pas or career suicide. He assured me that I was fine but he did say that he was stifling a laugh the whole time because he could tell from my facial expressions that I was holding back. That I was painfully being polite. That I was struggling to choose the right words and phrasing.
I laughed and I said he was probably right. I likely was doing these things, even subconsciously. Just as history and trends can be telltale signs, I also have them.
The other day my wife and I had a similar conversation about my facial expressions. I am not mysterious, I am not subtle, I don’t have a poker face. Even if I am not saying a word it’s easy to decipher what I am thinking or feeling.
By now you HAVE to be wondering what on earth ANY of this has to do with a website that focuses on gender identity. If you are, that’s okay, because I am starting to wonder about that as well.
Not long ago I did a lingerie photo shoot. I received the final pictures about three weeks ago and besides tweeting a shot here and there, I haven’t shared them. Normally I am alllll over posting new pictures but I am just not enthusiastic about these.
My lack of enthusiasm has nothing to do with Shannonlee’s photography or the beautiful studio or the gorgeous lingerie. It has everything to do with ME. I mean, I am the constant in these shots, right? The lingerie might be cute, the angle of the photo might be perfect, the light streaming into the studio might be breathtaking, but at the end of the day it’s a photo with me in it.
I am consciously smiling more during these shoots. I mean, why wouldn’t I? I love these things. I have also finally accepted that I can’t really pull off a come-hither look so, I may as well smile. But there were two things that were on my mind that day. I was having car issues and I was worried if my Kia would make the 13 mile journey to the mechanic. The other was the undeniable fact that I have gained weight.
I can fake a smile during these shoots. No problem. But it’s not realllly faking a smile. I love shoots and I love working with Shannonlee so they’re a lot of fun. When I start hearing the click of her camera it means that it’s showtime. I shift my mindset and smile away.
However, this shoot was a little different. Shannonlee was using a different camera which didn’t have the friendly click signaling that she was taking photos. Without this auditory cue I was never sure if she was taking photos or looking through the camera lens and deciding if the shot looked good or not. What I mean is that I was mostly lost in my thoughts and my facial expressions, my body language, was reflecting what I was thinking about.
In addition to thinking about my car (and the potential expenses and the risk of breaking down on the freeway in four inch stilettos), I was thinking about my body. Which is easy to do when you’re wearing nothing but a bra and panty and you’re surrounded by mirrors. I lost quite a bit of weight about ten years ago and it’s been creeping back. I still work out, I still avoid sweets, and I don’t drink alcohol or soda, so there’s not an obvious reason for this. I mean, I am aging and my body is also aging and slowing down, particularly my metabolism.
I met with my doctor very recently and we are exploring if something is wrong with my thyroid which impacts metabolism. My anti-depressant also has a side effect of weight gain. I was prescribed something new that I am hoping my insurance will approve.
I am thankful for my body but I suppose I can’t shake off feeling discouraged that all the work I did to lose weight and to keep it off is coming undone.
Because of these two consuming thoughts, I simply wasn’t in the right headspace for a shoot. And because I never really knew if Shannonlee was taking a photo I wasn’t always flashing a smile for the camera when it was time to. In a way, this shoot shows me at my most human. You can see the pictures and just know that something is on my mind. Worry, regret, discouragement, disappointment, reluctant acceptance…
In many ways I don’t like these photos. But in other ways, I think it’s interesting to have moments of introspection and emotion captured. I think the lingerie, although sexy, adds to a feeling of vulnerability. This is a normal emotion when you’re almost nude.
The photo below is me staring into a mirror. I remember a feeling of resigned reality that my body has changed and my lack of clothing can’t hide my curves and love handles. It was a very introspective moment that I didn’t know Shannonlee had captured.
Of course, the shoot wasn’t all doom and gloom. It’s always fun to shoot with Shannonlee and when I knew she was taking pictures I did my best to flash a smile. I was feeling a little bold and we stepped onto the roof and I climbed up the fire escape in stilettos for a few pictures.
I used to keep a journal when I was younger and I wrote almost every day. Looking back through them I am glad I did this. Remembering moments and thoughts and emotions and experiences that have been lost to time is really interesting to me. To have that chronicle of your life. Although I don’t journal anymore, I feel that this website, these photos, show a journey. My perspective shifts, my body changes, my confidence ebbs and flows… I suppose in a few years (or hours) I will think that this post is rather foolish and self-pitying.
These photos, although not all of them are my favorite, mark a day in my life when I wore my heart on my sleeve.
…when I wasn’t even wearing sleeves, but you know what I mean.
Love, Hannah
P.S. Instead of the normal posting of each outfit that I wear in a shoot over several posts, I just updated the photo page with pictures from the day.
There’s no question that, for the most part, children are raised influenced by the anatomy they are born with. The toys we are given to play with, the careers we are told we can pursue, the colors we are allowed to like, and of course, the clothes we are dressed in. This genderification sets us on a path for the rest of our lives. As we do our best to survive childhood we are also taught that certain feelings are for certain genders as well as what feelings are appropriate to express or discuss or acknowledge.
This path and this societal expectation stubbornly and persistently continues throughout our entire lives. The genesis of this conditioning is, ludicrously enough, all determined by the genitalia we have. Something so inconsequential, something that is arguably trivial, determines almost every aspect of our lives and relationships.
It reminds me of the song “What a Good Boy” by the Barenaked Ladies:
When I was born, they looked at me and said “What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy” And when you were born, they looked at you and said “What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl”
We’ve got these chains hanging around our necks People wanna strangle us with them before we take our first breath Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same When temptation calls, we just look away
If you’re reading this website it’s likely you identify on some level of gender non-conformity. Perhaps you crossdress, perhaps you have transitioned, or one of the many aspects of gender identity and/or gender presentation between those two points.
You probably wondered why we have decided to shape the world this way. Why, oh why, did we establish these rules and societal norms? Why do we choose to keep this status quo?
And it is a choice.
It’s hard to even imagine how we can reverse this. It’s not unlike untangling Christmas lights that have been entwined for decades in the attic. Where does one even begin?
I got to thinking about all this when a friend of mine mentioned to me how exhausting and pointless to exert all this energy trying to fit into what society expects a male presenting person to be and what a male presenting person to not be.
In my male presenting adventures, I am not allowed to do certain things. And yes, I know feminine presenting people also have these expectations, but as someone who was raised as a boy and as someone who presents as a boy for most of my life, I am most familiar and have the most personal experience with male societal norms.
My friend wrote that sometimes people are told that certain behaviors and attributes and characteristics are assets. Like, it’s good to be brave, it’s good to be strong, to be confident. And to be clear, I do think it’s good to be these things, but I feel that as someone who was raised mainly influenced by what a boy or a man should be, I was also raised being told that the opposite of these attributes were weak.
This is when shame can come in. If we identify with emotions and behaviors we are told are “weak” we likely will feel ashamed that we can relate to a man who feels sad or relate to a man who wears “girl clothes”.
A gentle reinforcement of gender norms.
Unless it’s for “comedic” effect, men are rarely portrayed in movies as anything but strong and brave. Stoic. Confident. Gender, from a binary perspective, is usually written as surfacy. There’s little depth in these characteristics. Watching these movies as we grow up reinforce what a boy/girl “should” be.
And by default, it’s implied that not adhering to these norms is wrong. It’s weak for a man to show emotions.
I believe that this is what my friend meant when she said that an “asset” is a liability. Not sharing your feelings can lead to a challenging life and challenging relationships. I don’t care what is between your legs but if you don’t discuss your feelings and thoughts and if you don’t allow yourself to be vulnerable I think you’ll likely have a difficult and lonely life.
And my god, can you imagine a quicker way to sabotage a relationship? To commit to someone and never discussing your feelings with them? To always be “strong” and never “weak”?
I think many of us will come to a breaking point or as my friend put it, we get to a point when we finally crack. We can only hold back an emotion, a desire, for so long. When this happens, it’s possible we may express the feelings in a less than productive way. My friend went on to say that even when we acknowledge these suppressed emotions and desires we may never shake off the shame we were told to feel as we grew up.
And she’s right.
Breaking away and breaking from the expectations and norms that our families and society have of us is difficult and one of the strongest and bravest things we can do. Which is kind of funny, isn’t it?
What I mean is that as a boy I was told that crying and feelings and pink is for girls. But as an adult I feel that being vulnerable is one of the most courageous things I can be. To leave the house in the pinkest dress ever. To walk with my head held high in matching pink stilettos.
If this is so weak, then why do I feel braver, and stronger, than I ever have in my life? It’s easy to adhere to the “rules” that society has for us. It’s easy to color inside the lines, if you will.
Breaking away from an established norm is so hard. Breaking from a pattern is hard. I feel that so much of my life has been crawling out from under the heel of gender norms and what a “man” should be. On a personal note, my father was abusive and his father was abusive. Horrible men, if I am being honest. If this type of behavior is hardwired into us I knew I had to do something before it was too late. Years of therapy, years of getting help with discussing my feelings, years of being told that it’s okay to be “weak”.
Of course, it’s not weak. That was one of the first mindsets I had to change. It’s not weak to acknowledge your feelings. It’s not weak to advocate for yourself. It’s not weak to strut through the lingerie section of a store in the tallest heels known to humanity.
I know I overthink and I used to feel that I overthought my outfit whenever I would go out en femme. Buuuut I kinnnnda think many of us consider countless aspects relating to our dress, our heels, our… everything when we go out.
I think about where I am going, what I am doing, who I might be meeting up with… it can be a bit of a puzzle when I am spending the day doing casual adventures but later I am going to the theatre or something. Both parts of the day have a different vibe and unless I am going to change somewhere I might be overdressed for the mall but perfect for watching a play.
This past Saturday I had plans that would begin around 5pm and I scheduled my makeup appointment for 9am. That’s a long day. But it was on purpose. I wanted a day out, plain and simple. I scheduled a wig consultation but otherwise I was as free as a bird for hours and hours.
I knew I’d be walking around a lot so I took that into consideration when I chose my heels for the day. I had recently splurged on six pairs of stilettos and I knew I wanted to wear one of my new treasures. It came down to two different pairs. One was a black patent stiletto with a lot of buckled ankle straps and the other was a pair of baby pink stilettos. I had a feeling I would be shopping and trying on clothes and I didn’t want to constantly unfasted and refasten alllll those ankle straps so I went with the pink.
Pink can be a tricky color to pair since there are so many shades of it. I had narrowed my dress down to two options.
The day before I went out I tried both of them to make sure they still fit and I decided I would make up my mind the next day. After I cinched my corset and slipped my forms into my pocket bra I stepped into the bodycon dress and the zipper was not having it. The forms and the corset made me a little bigger, in a way. I didn’t want to wake up my wife for her help so my default the pink dress was my outfit du jour.
The heels and dress matched wonderfully but I was as pink as it gets. I know a six foot t-girl is going to stand out no matter where she is, but if you add four inch heels and a dress like this you need to abandon all hopes of blending in.
You have to own it.
You’ll turn heads and it’s best if your own is held high when they see you.
And they will see you.
I went to see my makeup artist and she loved the outfit. I told her I was afraid it was too much pink but she shot that down. And with that, my confidence went up.
After my wig consultation I popped into a bookstore and on my way out a woman was leaving the shop that was next door. As we walked to the parking lot she told me she loved loved loved my dress. I thanked her and I admitted I was afraid it was, well, too much, too formal, too pink.
She waved her hand and said “it’s not and who cares”.
It was one of those moments that just really speak to you. I dress for myself and I give little thought to what others may think, but at the moment I wonder if I spoke my real thoughts. Those thoughts being that maybe I am overdressed, maybe I should tone it down a little when I am out. Maybe I should do more to make myself less of a spectacle.
What I mean by spectacle is that as a six foot (and then a little more) tall transgirl I am going to stand out. Perhaps I shouldn’t… well, add to that?
This is a difficult world for many of us. And not just the gender nonconforming community. The joy we gain from things we love are the same things others want to ridicule for their own edification. It’s frustrating that others find happiness in dulling other’s sparkle, if you will. If someone likes a singer or romance books or whatever, let them. Why make the effort to mock them? Let them like things.
If dressing to the nines while browsing a bookstore makes them happy, c’est la vie. If dressing to the nines makes YOU happy, then do it. I happily painted the town pink the rest of the day.
It’s not too much if it makes you happy.
And if someone else thinks it’s too much, then who cares.
You have the freedom to listen to, or not listen to, anyone’s opinion.
Hannah McKnight 