Living a Gendered Illusion

We would have expected to read this story in The Onion or The Babylon Bee. And yet, sometimes life imitates satire, or better, life becomes satire. Since the story appeared in The Guardian, which is not a satirical site, we are obliged to take it at face value. (via Maggie's Farm)

You see, authoress Emily Halnon thrills to the fact that her boyfriend is a transvestite-- not to be confused with the transgendered. He likes to dress up in woman’s clothes. He is cultivating his feminine side. He is in touch with his feelings. He is deeply sensitive and overflowing with empathy.

You might be thinking that he’s a pathetic wuss, and you would be right to do so. The problem is, Halnon is not totally into her boyfriend’s habit. She has some doubts and reservations. From that she concludes that she has unconsciously adopted patriarchal values. 

We will conclude that these two deserve each other. We wish them the best.

By the way, we know nothing about what Ian, her beau’s name, does for a living. Does he work in an office or does he work on a farm? We don’t know. I am fairly confident that if he works in the business or professional world he will have some considerable difficulty living down the notion that he dressed up in a white wedding gown in order to celebrate Mother’s Day.

To be fair, Ian had to dress like girl in order to celebrate mothers on a climb up Mount St. Helens. Who knows where anyone got this idea. No one really wants to know.

Halnon explains:

We were at Goodwill searching for dresses to wear during the annual Mother’s Day Climb up Mount St Helens, a decades-long tradition in which everyone scaling the volcano that day sports flowing garments in honor of female mountaineers and mothers everywhere.

I knew Ian would be among the most outrageous on the mountain. My boyfriend is aggressively fun and a flair fanatic, which I find wildly attractive on most occasions – like when he’s scaling technical slopes in jorts and a cat shirt or skiing the steepest lines in the Pacific north-west in space tights.

But I found myself unexpectedly uneasy with his new fondness for feminine frocks – a reaction that challenged the progressive ideals I’d prided myself on for decades. I’d long thought I was contributing to a progressive shift in how we define masculinity, finally allowing men to be emotional and vulnerable, or to ask for help, or to hug their male friends … or to wear dresses.

Ian giggled. “Isn’t it beautiful?” His chest hair battled the sheer neckline. The skirt fanned out as wide as a beach umbrella – a garment fit for a Vegas chapel.

I imagined him skiing down Mount St Helens in it, the lengthy rag concealing his chiseled calves and hardened quadriceps, and strained to find it an appealing vision. It was too much – even for him.

This was not the first time I’d found myself a little uncomfortable with the sight of Ian in women’s wear. It’s not an unusual sight to spot him sporting a skirt, dress, or sarong at a party, picnic, or trailhead. He uses his unconventional apparel as a display of his individuality and a reflection of his fondness for fun. I adore both of those qualities, but I was realizing I was less fond of seeing them exhibited through floral numbers or tight sequined garments or wedding dresses.

Halnon is, dare we say, prey to an illusion. She thinks that cross dressing displays individuality and reflect a fondness for fun.  The problem was, she was not turned on by a man who dressed in women’s frocks:

Intellectually, I enjoyed that Ian was rejecting gender norms and expectations. But physically, my desire didn’t match.

Those feelings illuminated some unanticipated boundaries of where I define attractiveness in men and when I still crave traditional masculinity. I realized I wanted less dress and more flannel shirts, trucker hats and sandstone Carhartts.

When we left the store that day, Ian had a big bundle of wedding dress and I had some big questions to consider.

Astonishingly, she thinks that she might have a problem. Her desires do not follow her moronic belief system. So, she thinks that she must need therapy.

On the other hand, she was thrilled to find a man who was so completely in touch with his feminine side. She does not know that men who are in touch with their feminine sides are often lotharios and seducers:

When I started hanging out with Ian and he immediately wanted to talk about feelings, it was a gulp of ice-cold lemonade on a 98-degree day. I’d been craving this vulnerability and openness from the men I dated. Conversations like that one in the car drew me to him like a charged magnet, as did his emotional openness, his fondness for communication, and his public displays of affection for close male friends.

Naturally, she is competing for Ian’s affections with gay guys. She does not find that this is slightly strange.

“Do you find your boyfriend as attractive as I do?” whispered Eli, as we watched Ian plant his poles confidently in front of his flowing skirt, his hairy and silky chest beaming proud against the horizon, his laughing smile nearly detectable through the back of his floral sunhat.

My eyes chased my boyfriend down the mountain, my sensitive, silly, affectionate, emotional, vulnerable boyfriend – skiing in his wedding dress.

“I do,” I promised.

Ultimately, it’s a sad story. God only knows how it got published.