Sometimes I feel like everything is okay in the world. I just sort of forget all the shit that goes on. All the bad shit. All the racism, homophobia, transphobia, cis/sexism, all of it. But then a passerby comes along, and I feel overwhelmed with dysphoria. I feel instinctively self-concious about my hair, my clothes, my posture, my big nose and my crooked teeth. I look down at my legs, and if I’m wearing shorts, I’m aware of the scars, the scabs, and the bruises. I’m aware of my leg hair, if it’s there or not. I’m aware of my underarm hair, if it’s been shaved recently or not. I’m aware of my dark circles, imperfect skin, the places on my hands and arms where I’ve been hurt. I’m aware of my bitten fingernails and my dry skin.
But then I try to force it out of my mind, try to say “Fuck it, all of thats natural. Everyone gets all of these things. I bet those people woke up with their hair a mess, and I bet they have days where they need to hide their dark circles, feel the need to shave, or fall and get bruises. I bet they all do it. In fact, I know they do.”
But that feeling lingers. I imagine what they must be thinking when they see me, out on the sidewalk, in a baggy shirt, cigarette-burnt basketball shorts, barefoot and with my leg hair happily growing. I imagine what they think when they see my fresh-from-bed hair, taking a drag on my cigarette while keeping an eye on my mom’s dogs while they romp around in the grass. Do they judge me harshly, or not care, while I push these thoughts out of my mind?
I hate how this kind of thinking has been ingrained into society, and burned into our minds. I hate how I’m supposed to shave my legs, and have perfect hair and skin, even if I’m just walking outside so the dogs can do their business. I love it when I can forget it all, and pretend like its socially accepted to not be concerned about that sort of thing. I love it when I forget that I’m biologically a female, and can happily ignore that fact, and bask in my identity as genderqueer. But I only feel that way when it doesn’t matter.
Sure, the sun shines, and children play, and the birds sing, and the cats bask in the warmth outside. They’re so ignorant of all the hate in the world. All the inequality. All of the misdeeds,the violence, the expectations.
My utopia would be a world where there was no hate, and people are accepted as they are, nothing more, nothing less, and where the social constructs of today were much more forgiving, and more loving than they are.