We all just watched the movie "Breakin'" and were dancing around like fools. A stuffed rattlesnake joined us... "Snakin'"!!!
Terrycloth wristlets and sleeveless shirts were worn! Butts spun upon! Moonwalks walked! Rook knows how and has some background and talent in dance, so he gave Moomin a moonwalk lesson.
I bleached and purpled my hair today, and so had it up in a bandana with a hat over it, since heat makes the color stick better. At the drugstore I realized people were not sure of my gender and I enjoyed that more than I thought I would. Then at Cosco (the 1 millionth errand of the day) I got called "sir" at the checkout stand. The dude corrected himself a minute later, but still, I was pleased! Actually "pleased" doesn't begin to cover the insane and disturbing surge of happiness I felt. And they say I can't be butch... HA.
In my butch drag today (loose jeans, tshirt, flannelly shirt, too-big jacket wtih hood) I realized that as a guy, the pressure to smile was gone. People got out of my way more. Other short guys seemed to look at me as if sizing me up. It was different.
Oddly - it is just what I normally wear but without any girly touches if you don't look too close at the boots. That's all it takes to default to male. Not smiling was incredibly important and I wondered how much of my smiliness and head-cocking is gender based placating behavior and how much is "just feeling smiley".
After the sirring and a whole Cosco of people who didn't expect me to be the one to move out of the way, I thought of all the times people have touched my body disrespectfully. I thought of dressing rooms and people's comments on my being bulgy or fat. And then thought, that would not have happened if I had been male. I would have gotten punched in the face and had to play sports, or something, but for a moment I had a glimpse of the privilege men have of not having their bodies objectified and sexualized and demeaned, and their body images fucked with, and their whole being reduced to whether they are sexually pleasing enough to men.... and it looked sweet.
I looked around me today and saw all the other short men. They were wearing jeans, tshirts or sweatshirts, hooded jackets that went down long to cover their butts and kind of to disguise that they have butts at all. Their loose big jeans even when not falling down conceal the curve between their butt and the top of their thighs. They all had baseball hats on like mine, many with equally absurd slogans. They stood still and did not fidget or smile. They seemed aware of each other in an odd guy way - I think it is assessment of physical ability as if they are always keeping in mind who could kick who else's ass in a fight; who would be dominant, who to be aware of - the same way that girls know who the hottest girl in the room or the queen bee is and pay subtle attention or deference to that. Not like violence or a beauty pageant is going to bust out in the middle of Long's Drugs - but it's still there underneath.
I looked at all the guys today and saw them as women in drag. All of them had some flaw that might mean they were really women... maybe a little too much body fat or a round-ish jawline, or arms that weren't very hairy; everyone looked ambiguous.
I thought, "If I were a guy, then wearing the scruffy jeans and ratty tshirts and big jackets I normally wear when I'm not in girl-drag, that would just be normal. No one would be giving me shit for it and saying I have to 'grow up' and be 'realistic'. The guys are putting on a bit of an act, but it's not as much of an act as women with makeup etc... and it's cheaper."
Anyway.
As soon as I take off this ludicrous "bad to the bone" hat and my new-bleached straw like hair explodes in brilliant purple spikes I will revert to femmy butch again and will signify my acceptance that I'm a girl and my attempt to play with all that in the illusion of breathing space that I have to do that in.
Am disgusted with the WHOLE THING. I would so much prefer to be an alien or a robot.
Terrycloth wristlets and sleeveless shirts were worn! Butts spun upon! Moonwalks walked! Rook knows how and has some background and talent in dance, so he gave Moomin a moonwalk lesson.
I bleached and purpled my hair today, and so had it up in a bandana with a hat over it, since heat makes the color stick better. At the drugstore I realized people were not sure of my gender and I enjoyed that more than I thought I would. Then at Cosco (the 1 millionth errand of the day) I got called "sir" at the checkout stand. The dude corrected himself a minute later, but still, I was pleased! Actually "pleased" doesn't begin to cover the insane and disturbing surge of happiness I felt. And they say I can't be butch... HA.
In my butch drag today (loose jeans, tshirt, flannelly shirt, too-big jacket wtih hood) I realized that as a guy, the pressure to smile was gone. People got out of my way more. Other short guys seemed to look at me as if sizing me up. It was different.
Oddly - it is just what I normally wear but without any girly touches if you don't look too close at the boots. That's all it takes to default to male. Not smiling was incredibly important and I wondered how much of my smiliness and head-cocking is gender based placating behavior and how much is "just feeling smiley".
After the sirring and a whole Cosco of people who didn't expect me to be the one to move out of the way, I thought of all the times people have touched my body disrespectfully. I thought of dressing rooms and people's comments on my being bulgy or fat. And then thought, that would not have happened if I had been male. I would have gotten punched in the face and had to play sports, or something, but for a moment I had a glimpse of the privilege men have of not having their bodies objectified and sexualized and demeaned, and their body images fucked with, and their whole being reduced to whether they are sexually pleasing enough to men.... and it looked sweet.
I looked around me today and saw all the other short men. They were wearing jeans, tshirts or sweatshirts, hooded jackets that went down long to cover their butts and kind of to disguise that they have butts at all. Their loose big jeans even when not falling down conceal the curve between their butt and the top of their thighs. They all had baseball hats on like mine, many with equally absurd slogans. They stood still and did not fidget or smile. They seemed aware of each other in an odd guy way - I think it is assessment of physical ability as if they are always keeping in mind who could kick who else's ass in a fight; who would be dominant, who to be aware of - the same way that girls know who the hottest girl in the room or the queen bee is and pay subtle attention or deference to that. Not like violence or a beauty pageant is going to bust out in the middle of Long's Drugs - but it's still there underneath.
I looked at all the guys today and saw them as women in drag. All of them had some flaw that might mean they were really women... maybe a little too much body fat or a round-ish jawline, or arms that weren't very hairy; everyone looked ambiguous.
I thought, "If I were a guy, then wearing the scruffy jeans and ratty tshirts and big jackets I normally wear when I'm not in girl-drag, that would just be normal. No one would be giving me shit for it and saying I have to 'grow up' and be 'realistic'. The guys are putting on a bit of an act, but it's not as much of an act as women with makeup etc... and it's cheaper."
Anyway.
As soon as I take off this ludicrous "bad to the bone" hat and my new-bleached straw like hair explodes in brilliant purple spikes I will revert to femmy butch again and will signify my acceptance that I'm a girl and my attempt to play with all that in the illusion of breathing space that I have to do that in.
Am disgusted with the WHOLE THING. I would so much prefer to be an alien or a robot.
an especially good rant!
Posted by: kevin | December 30, 2006 at 10:19 PM
I think we had the same day. Except I didn't get called "sir."
Posted by: cher | December 31, 2006 at 12:17 AM
why is it that folks think women ought to always be smiling? how nice you got a break from that -
Posted by: corey jo | December 31, 2006 at 12:12 PM
They seemed aware of each other in an odd guy way -- I think it is assessment of physical ability as if they are always keeping in mind who could kick who else's ass in a fight; who would be dominant, who to be aware of...
Yes, we do that.
At the same time, there's always a little bit of tacit: "Yes, I am aware of exactly how you are acting, and if you cross my line you will hear about it. But at the same time I know you are thinking the same thing, and I'm not fucking with you or crossing your line, as you can clearly tell."
Posted by: toobeaut | December 31, 2006 at 02:50 PM
yeah! It's this whole unspoken diplomacy! Really amazing. And it usually passes totally under my radar. I only started noticing it when I started dressing way butch. I think that whatever weird signals are only among short guys. The obvious alpha males don't bother to I think because they dont' have to... or maybe they do it on some other level I'm not seeing. As a guy I am supposed to meet their eyes in a split second... a sort of flicker... and then maybe a slight nod of the head... almost imperceptible... and then look away or unfocus. Clearly the equivalent of wolves going belly up, or a firm handshake; the men must recognize each other's man-ness, and make that split second of contact, or else there is danger. Not doing it means that something is wrong with you. Either you're timid/scared or you're not submitting properly? This explains a lot of time when guys start doing something weird, like humming and having super uncomfortable body language around me.
Who knew! Fascinating. What an alien country.
Posted by: badgerbag | December 31, 2006 at 03:09 PM
I think that whatever weird signals are only among short guys. The obvious alpha males don't bother to I think because they dont' have to.
Ha ha ha ha! Speaking as a short guy, I broadcast my ass-kicking ability to short and tall, but you're probably right, the big guys don't even have to. LOL.
Posted by: toobeaut | December 31, 2006 at 04:39 PM
Speaking as a tall guy: We received years of training in intimidation. At the completion of said training we were taught the handshake and informed that the top shelves are always to be stocked with 'secret tall guy' snacks and goodies.
I have to say - it rocks.
Posted by: kevin | December 31, 2006 at 05:08 PM
Hi. Interesting comments you make about the male world. I can see how you feel that your handle on what's happening is true, and it IS partly true. However, it is just POSERS that do this, bullies and people that think too much.
Real Alpha males don't need to do it, as someone noted, people that are physically big but NOT violent don't do it either. Physcopaths DON'T do it properly, but the posers get A message of danger alright.
I think also teenagers do this , and more so by far, (from what I understand at 8000 miles range) in an AMERICAN school than say some other country. Image being the all, there, I believe is the reason. Style over substance ;)
Why I write is not this though. I wanted to ask you if you know WHO Badger-bag was/is?. Historically.
Posted by: Tony | March 31, 2007 at 08:15 PM
Ah, I didn't read your title at first.
I am astonished. Have you read the O'Brien books about Jack and Steven of HMS Surprise?.
Tips hat to the excellent choice of name.
Posted by: Tony | March 31, 2007 at 08:21 PM
Hi Tony. Yes, I've read the O'Brian books many times! I found references to Badgerbag elsewhere - the crossing the line play/ritual seemed to have been around significantly before the 1800s. I really should go do the research and find it out exactly. I gathered that Badgerbag was the ass-kicker of Neptune or Poseidon. Near the beginning of this blog I speculated on Badgerbag's role and the etymology of the name and of badger baiting as a sport - but I have still not looked it up.
Posted by: badgerbag | April 01, 2007 at 12:10 AM
Ah, well then, I can help you there a bit. For a start, VERY little about BB is online at all. Don't know why, and I am very tempted to write out what i know of the ritual and its roots for Wikipedia.
You know of course the line ritual, and its roots in Free Masonry, however, BadgerBag is a specifically British naval addition to the trope. A badger or TO badger really, as well as being our mate Brock was the term for an illegal trade, and by extention the people making the trade.
What they did, was in the days where each town (And in fact the Kingdom THROUGH the agent of the town charters) controlled its trade with guilds, house and halls and the like, was they went to areas where things(mostly primary produce, wheat, wool, stock animals and the like, though they also did this with other things like paper) were in glut, or abundance, brought cheaply, and then took the stock to where there was a dearth of it, and sold high. And it was REALLY bad as far as the vested interests were concerned. (Funny eh, HOW anti-American could they have POSSIBLY been, the basis of capitalism itself was a hanging offense!)Mostly because they didn't belong to guilds, so under cut the guilds cushy little monopoly.
Anyway, you arrive at the idea of naughty old badger-bag, the epitome of the piratical rule breaking opportunistic wideboy.Why, a bloke like that might well set up a barbershop where the patrons got goose grease for shaving cream, or worse.
And long may he be with us, Authority cries out to the British soul for someone to stick it up 'em. And who else are you Yanks, than British people that took that thought and ran far with it, eh?.
I myself use the nickname, by your leave misses.*tugs fetlock* I am the werewolf Badgerbag in a mmo, which makes for some highjinks . . hirstute ones.
(I am reading some of your posts, very interesting . . . for a girl. ;) Oh, dear, i do joke there. Interesting in SPITE of you being one? hahahaha. Sorry.Joking aside, Nice blog, and i thank you most kindly for your answering me, mate.)
Posted by: Tony (from kiwiland) | April 01, 2007 at 01:14 AM