how my style has evolved over the years

I’ve been really reflective lately—moving tends to have that effect on me. A lot of things I’ve been reflecting on are pretty damn heavy—past relationships, lessons I’ve learned, people I’ve met, things I wish I’d done differently during my time in Idaho. But I’ve also been reflecting on how much I’ve grown as a person and come into my own as a woman. Part of that journey for me has been curating my own sense of style that feels very affirming to me as a queer femme. It’s been interesting to look back and think about all of the years I spent experimenting with my style and gender presentation—they all taught me something about myself and how I want to show up in the world.

I want to preface this by saying that I’m a thin white woman, and I’ve never been discriminated against for the size of my body or the color of my skin. I have a lot of privilege in the way I show up in the world, even if I’ve occasionally bumped up against the gender police.

When I was a kid, I didn’t care too much about my appearance. I obviously absorbed messaging that I should care, but I just kind of didn’t. I was way more concerned with hanging out with my friends, expanding my Webkinz collection, and plowing through another American Girl book series to give much thought to my body or my hair or my general outward appearance. I was literally just a girl, and it was awesome. I think around fourth grade is when things started to change. I began to dress more androgynous, which felt very comfortable and authentic for me, but as a result I was bullied. I do think that little girls have a little more leniency in their gender presentation, at least from my experience. I could experiment with masculinity as a little girl without being accused of being a dyke. But my queer boy friends growing up could not experiment with femininity without being called a fag. I didn’t get that kind of harassment. But I got the message that I was physically unappealing to look at because of my failure to comply with gender norms, and that was a problem. I remember wearing my favorite big brown fluffy sweatshirt to school—it made me feel like a bear—and being told that I “looked homeless”. I chopped all my hair off in fifth grade and was asked if I was “turning into a boy”—transphobia in 2009, what a concept.

Kids don’t know what to do with this information. I certainly didn’t. I was too young to understand that I did not need to obey the gender police and I did not understand that I don’t need other people’s permission to be who I am. So, I did what any nine-year old girl would do and changed myself to fit the mold. The next several years were a very turbulent relationship with my appearance and my body. Sometimes I found freedom and liberation in experimenting with gender and finding new ways to feel authentically like myself. Other times, I was confused and distrusted my own preferences. I was wrong—the world told me so. I developed an eating disorder in an effort to be thinner, I grew my hair out, started wearing makeup, shopped at Aeropostale and Pacsun. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re thirteen, I thought.

In high school and college, I got a little more adventurous with my self-expression, but still tried to stay within the parameters of what I believed it meant to be conventionally attractive. I had a period of time where I worked for REI and wore athleisure a lot, another period where I wore socks and sandals quite a bit, another era where I had long pink hair—all incredibly different ways of communicating queerness haha. I have gradually become more adventurous in my style and appearance, thanks in large part to living in San Francisco for three years and being surrounded by the subersive culture there—a deeply formative experience for me.

I have had several style moments where I really felt like I was growing into myself. Like when I got t bright red corduroy overalls at a vintage store in San Francisco. I felt on top of the world in those things—they were so comfortable and non-restrictive, and I loved walking around looking like a human strawberry. I discovered my love for button-up shirts during this time too, and started experimenting with clothes marketed as men’s clothes. I got a white pair of coveralls that made me feel like a lesbian mechanic, and loafers of various kinds that were giving grandma. I also started growing into my body, allowing it to become soft and strong and everything that it was ever supposed to be. My eating disorder was a reflection of my inner wars. I believe that embracing my personal style was a very important part of my healing from my eating disorder in helping me accept myself and the way I show up in the world.

As a 27 year old queer femme who is no longer at war with herself in the same ways I used to be, I’ve discovered, and re-discovered, a lot about myself. I still enjoy playing with masculinity and femininity as I had when I was a child. Sometimes I want to put on a dress, and other times I want to put on overalls. I’m not afraid of other people’s opinions anymore, because other people’s opinions suck. The gender police sometimes rear their head still and I don’t even give them the time of day. I see my style choices as a middle finger to compulsive gender normativity. Be weird! Get silly! Getting dressed should be fun and a celebration of yourself. You don’t need to buy expensive brands. You need to accept that being who you are in this world is the most beautiful gift that you could possibly give it. I know that’s cheesy, but it’s also mf true.

This year I’m excited to push my style boundaries a little. I just got aviators that make me look like an old man. I’d love to get a pair of coveralls again like I had in the past. Maybe I’ll even fuck around and a get a fluffy brown sweatshirt, idk.