A couple of months ago, I cut off my hair. I had wanted to for years at this point, and in an almost drunken state- a cocktail mix of depression, insomnia (I’m rewriting this at 2 a.m.), and matted hair (from said depression and a botched bleach-dye attempt)- I “accomplished” my goal. I’m hesitant when I say “accomplished” because I more so shaved my head with scissors rather than solely “cut,” which looked… um… interesting in certain lighting, but I DIGRESS.
About a month and a half after my big chop, in September, because I’m not going to embarrass myself with photos from the day of.
Before, during, and after the passing of my mid-back curls and coils, I kept waiting… patiently prepping myself for streams of tears and holding in breaths just in case I mourned the “loss” that so many felt inclined to provide condolences for. Unbeknownst to me I was in attendance at the wake of the few things that granted me access to Western femininity.
I wasn’t shocked at the beratement of my body after my big chop. I was consistently told I had “ruined” myself (I like “defied patriarchal conditioning” more but hey) - because I had made a decision that didn’t center a Western patriarchal standard of beauty, that not only perceived me as “ugly” but also hyper-masculine and animalistic- not just non-woman but non-human.
Black women have an immense pressure to perform femininity in order to be seen, as even somewhat whole in their humanity, so much so, that the shedding of our hair (which is a common coming of age milestone for Black women) or any decision that is deemed “masculine” is discussed with vitriol. We even police ourselves in order to “pass” as feminine, just enough, to be loaned decency.
And this is why many Black trans and non-binary people who were assigned female at birth may still identify with Black womanhood. The dangers that come with being perceived outside the binary and the pressures to assimilate for protection have also always been a reality for Black women.
In the book Ain’t I a Woman, bell hooks discusses the historical context in which slavery spawned this phenomenon.
“Black female slaves had shown that they were capable of performing so-called “manly” labor, that they were able to endure hardship, pain, and privation but could also perform those so-called “womanly” tasks of housekeeping, cooking, and child rearing. Their ability to cope effectively in a sexist-defined “male” role threatened patriarchal myths about the nature of women's inherent physiological difference and inferiority. By forcing black female slaves to perform the same work tasks as black male slaves, white male patriarchs were contradicting their own sexist order that claimed women to be inferior because she lacked physical prowess. An explanation had to be provided to explain why black women were able to perform tasks that were cited by patriarchs as jobs women were incapable of performing. ...White males argued that black slave women were not ‘real’ women but were masculinized sub-human creatures…white men perpetuated the notion that black women possessed unusual masculine-like characteristics not common to the female species.”
The remnants of this colonialist and white supremacist patriarchal thinking are still alive and well today.
Former First Lady, Michelle Obama, has been bombarded with online hate and harassment regarding her gender for years. Right-wing politicians and commentators have continued to push transphobic and misogynoirist rhetoric about Michelle, referring to her as “Michael” and even doctoring photos to make her appear “masculine.”
Megan Thee Stallion has been misgendered and accused of not being a “real” woman since the peak of her career. The masculinization and dehumanization she was subjected to were also weaponized against her when she testified about being a victim of gun violence at the hands of “rapper” Tory Lanez.
Recently, JT was derogatorily called a “drag queen” and “manly” for wearing birthday makeup.
What is especially disheartening to me about transphobic and misogynoirist hate campaigns are the Black women who also participate in them at times.
Some Black women, in an unproductive attempt at self-preservation from further dehumanization, tend to use the same vitriolic thinking of white supremacist patriarchs to feel grounded in their womanhood. But, there isn’t enough femininity and self-hate we can muster in order to be treated as whole. That’s why we must turn to intersectional feminism and a destruction of the gender binary.
The constant misgendering, I received before coming out as gender fluid, was one of the reasons I remained closeted about my gender identity, the reason I don’t go by just any pronouns, the reason I almost didn’t cut my hair off, and the reason I sometimes still identify as a Black woman. I thought coming out was going to put me in closer proximity to the “man” so many people have cast me in their life as- that all the years of training myself to be more “feminine” would have been for nothing. It’s not masculinity at all that I’m afraid of being, but rather the dehumanization associated with being perceived as a “masculine” Black woman.
I love being in community with Black women though there’d be a unique disconnect I’d encounter when explaining why I avert from gender roles in my relationships (romantic or platonic). I was getting clowned on, for lack of better words- but I understand why. I was warned that people would take advantage of my non-gender role stance and not do things they reserve for people they care about, not out of respect for my gender identity but out of depreciation for my perceived Black womanhood. And they were right, many Black women experience “genderless” relationships, to a certain degree, because their friend or partner is actively disrespecting their Black womanhood, so they feel like they must turn to hyper-femininity and strict gender roles to garner said respect.
A lot of people didn’t perceive me as genderless but rather felt even more inclined to treat me, like bell hooks says, as a “masculinized subhuman,” under the guise of “appreciation” for my gender identity- even in queer spaces. This put me in a position to question if somehow I was still being misgendered when people would treat me as non-woman. For example, if a man who was aware of my gender identity, opened a door for non-Black femme presenting people but let it shut on me, was he doing so out of respect for my gender identity or was he still perceiving me as a Black woman he wanted to disrespect and engaging in misogynoir- these are the questions we ask ourselves. Again, another reason many Black trans and non-binary people identify as Black women and may even have preferences for who refers to them by certain pronouns.
Another reason I stayed closeted about my gender identity is because I couldn’t bear to think of becoming more marginalized. Being Black, disabled, pansexual, low-income, and experiencing misogyny and abuse while living in a cishet, white supremacist, capitalist, ableist, patriarchal society (a mouthful I know) has almost claimed my life many times, and I just couldn’t come out again. But I’m glad I did. Despite the dehumanization I’m more susceptible to, I’ve fostered beautiful relationships with trans and non-binary people, and I couldn’t imagine how much my life would have been devalued without the support of this community- my community- and their constant reminders that I am indeed whole and human.
This!!! Performing femininity, for BW, is already such a sticky trade-off, especially amidst the resurgence of “femininity/masculinity” coaches, podcasters, and gender “energy” ethos, specifically in black spaces, that are deadest on forcing us into white supremacist feminine ideals, while constantly reminding us that we can’t fully, by design. So of course, for queer people the stakes are exponentially higher, more dangerous (as you said.) And the resistance to gender policing is even more threatening to status quo. Powerful piece!!!