One commitment I’ve made over the past year of my personal growth journey was to invest in (and not feel bad about) revamping my wardrobe and appearance.
My old preppy button downs and bland t-shirts didn’t fit with the true authentic me that was coming out. And wearing all that old stuff made me feel like I was still performing, like I had just removed the mask but still had all the costumes on.
I always knew that traditional masculine attire—“fashion” seems a bit of a stretch for me in describing it—was boring and not where I normally gravitate towards when I really want to feel myself. For me, it’s too rigid, too understated, too prescribed: the suit and tie where the only appropriate avenues for creativity are in tie colors and sock patterns; the classic t-shirt and jeans outfit left so little room for expression and looked like everyone else.
So, I knew I didn’t want to stay trapped in that prescribed masculine expression—but what did I want my presentation to look was a tougher equation to solve.
I knew from the beginning that I wasn’t going to swing the whole opposite way and dress in a very traditional feminine fashion, with dresses and skirts and makeup. Although there’s absolutely nothing wrong with trans and non-binary people who find their home there, I knew it wasn’t where I naturally felt pulled towards.
Because of the way our patriarchal society is organized, we have pretty clear definitions of what masculine and feminine clothes and fashion should look like. But, for those of us in The In-Between, looking for a more androgynous and personal expression, it’s hard to find clear-cut examples of what to do. Conjuring up a vision when you don’t really have a clear view of the different options available is a challenge.
I looked to Pinterest for inspiration, to find what those different options could be, and which ones resonated with what I wanted my presentation to look like.
I knew that I always wanted my ears pierced—I remember asking my parents when I was in high school, when I had also grown my hair out and been experimenting with fashion; a part of me thinks that was a moment where my true authentic self was fighting to be seen.
Originally, I just wanted to wear studs and maybe little gold hoops, nothing too flashy. But, after I got them pierced and saw pins on Pinterest with people wearing bigger and bolder earrings, I felt something within me resonate with that, so I tried it and loved it.
And I’ve found that shopping in-person at stores and thrift shops is difficult for me—partially because of my autism, but also because there feels like so much pressure to “stick to your section.” It takes more nerve than I normally have to muster up, on top of navigating the situation with my autism, to feel confident enough to go over to the women’s rack and flip through.
Poshmark and Etsy have been the two main places where I buy my clothing and accessories. Being able to look online at pieces that are outside of the traditional masculine box, and to try them on in the comfort of my home, without worrying about what someone might think or say, has been a game changer for me.
I’d also see many different types of pieces on those platforms, some of which I might not have come across and considered for my gender presentation until that point, so it’s been helpful to both show me different options and give an outlet to actually change my own closet.
Whether it’s on Pinterest or Poshmark or Etsy or anywhere else, I’ve learned to tune in to those resonances, those feelings of attraction towards a specific piece or look or style and use them as my guides in reconstructing my gender presentation. If I find myself continuously being drawn to something specific, I take that as my cue that it might be something to try.
But trying new things, like the first time I wore big dangle earrings, is so euphoric and empowering and absolutely, completely terrifying—not because of whether I’ll like it or if it’ll resonate, but because of the fear of rejection, of ridicule, or more.
For the longest time in 2021, there would be a time, say, once every week, where I’d try something new on and go walk my dog down the street, in front of the passersby and the drivers and the old conservative men who sit outside the cigar shop across the street.
And I’d be shaking, terrified of what people might think, or might say…or might do.
The world can be a dangerous place, especially for people who challenge and defy the status quo. Just Google “anti-trans violence.”
I recognize that, in a patriarchal society, I am one of the biggest and most visible threats to toxic masculinity and those who cling to it, because I show that it’s not a given, that there are other options, that you can reject it and create your own without adhering to what others say you should be or look like.
That puts me and others who reject it in the crosshairs of how toxic masculinity condones reacting to threats and difference: anger, intimidation, violence.
So, it’s actually pretty understandable why, during those early months of my transition, I was terrified most of the time.
But now that I’ve gone through and broken down those initial fears, and that I’ve become so much more confident and secure and elated in my skin and my presentation and my identity, I don’t necessarily feel those fears as much as I used to. They never go away, for the reasons I just mentioned, but they don’t dominate how I choose to present myself to the world anymore.
One thing that makes me excited each day is being able to get creative and come up with an outfit that resonates with how I’m feeling in that moment and what I want that day to look like.
If it’s rainy and dark, I can throw on some comfortable sweatpants and a cardigan or chunky sweater. If I have a business call or am going out to run errands, or even just feeling a little dressier, I can combine a ruffled colorful patterned blouse with an oversized blazer, tapered slacks, Chelsea boots, and fancy earrings. I can put my hair up, pull it back, leave it down—all depending on how I’m feeling.
I don’t really consider any other factors other than that anymore. No more “this is too dressy” thoughts, or feeling like people will think I’m a shlump for wearing sweatpants, or worrying about what others will think.
My outfits are me, a representation and presentation of who I am in that moment, how I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. They show the contours and colors of my soul.
But they’re also armor I don to navigate a black-and-white world, where dressing as myself is an inherently political act. I need to feel confident and powerful in order to inhabit this world as I am.
When I’m wearing an outfit that feels right in that moment, that feels like an extension of who I am, I feel so much more confident to withstand anything the world throws at me.
Because I’m me, not anybody else. And the power that comes with that feeling is much stronger than chain mail.
I would rather wear a barrel/
Than conservative apparel/
For dress has always been/
My strongest suit/