Opening Pandora's Box

Recently, I have been questioning my gender identity. The experience has felt akin to opening Pandora’s box, as I have been afraid of the new insights or connections I might uncover about myself. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this whole process has left me with more questions than answers. The kind of person I have been for the past twenty years is someone who fears admitting there’s something she doesn’t know about herself: she fears the unknown and things that cannot be put perfectly in one box or the other. I admire and celebrate gender exploration, gender fluidity, and non-binary existences for other people, but somehow, I feel as though I cannot entertain the possibility of a fluid identity for myself. Much of this stems from internalized gender roles and expectations as well as my obsession with labels and taxonomy (likely related to my OCD— but who knows?). Another large part of why I have found it difficult to question or think more critically about my gender identity is because so much of how I act, speak, dress, and exist, really, has been colored by my perception of how an Asian woman should act. To question my gender identity is to question every part of my existence and frankly, I’m not sure if I’ve ever been (or will be) ready to shake the foundations I’ve stood on my entire life. 

To speak a bit more on how the way my Asian and AFAB identities have intersected, there have been many moments in my life (post-puberty) where I felt as though I were performing a hyper-feminine or sexual version of myself. This meant never leaving the house without a full face of makeup, primarily wearing form-fitting clothing, and presenting myself as sexually desirable to those around me. I recall a clear example of this when I had briefly worked as a waitress a few months back. During my first week of training, one of my managers and the bartender had joked that if my other manager (whom I haven’t met yet) saw me in my “glittery makeup” and cute hairdo, he would have a crush on me. They then implied that he had an Asian fetish— “(Manager’s name) loves a cute Asian girl when he sees one!” From that point onward, everytime I had gotten ready to go to work, I felt as though I had to wear glittery or bright makeup, as silly as it sounds. My hair, accessories, outfit, everything from head to toe had to be “cute” because I associated being seen as attractive by my manager as being liked by him. I never considered going to work bare-faced or in a mismatched, thoughtless outfit because of how that would ruin how my co-workers perceive me. Looking back on it now, it’s ironic I had to quit my job due to sexual harassment. Not only at work, but in my dating life, there were men who had made it very clear that they were attracted to me solely because I was Asian and presented myself femininely. Looking back on it, I doubt these men would have found me desirable if I had a masculine sense of fashion and expression because then, I wouldn’t fit their sexual fantasy. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t until the Atlanta shootings in which I gave thought to the sexualization and objectification of Asian women. American history’s imagination of the Asian woman as a hyper-feminine, promiscuous figure has actually dated back to the 19th century. Originating with the Page Act of 1875, preluding the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, this legislation prevented Chinese women from immigrating to the U.S. based on the assumption that they are all sex workers. This rhetoric was politically effective in that it prohibited Chinese men and women from starting families and growing their population. If Asian women are hypersexual and “deviant” from white womanhood (which is presumably, more “moral” and proper) then legislators have “good reason” to stop their immigration. By the mid twentieth century, the U.S. increased its military presence in Japan, Korea, Philippines, and Vietnam, thus “increasing interracial contact between American soldiers and Asian women.” Many of these women, who suffered under the financial uncertainty caused by war, took up jobs as sex and/or on-base service workers. Following this direct contact, perhaps unsurprisingly, Asian women burgeoned as a new popular pornography category in the U.S. Men were “romanticizing the compatibility of a docile war bride, as an ideal American wife, because she was sexually servile but also a domestic servant”— a two for one, if you will. With Asian women as one of the top searched/viewed porn categories and over 800,000 Asian interest dating websites, the age-old oriental blossom stereotype has become deeply embedded within our culture. The Atlanta shootings from earlier this year was not an isolated incident. Asian women are disproportionately victims of sexual violence and rape. “Sexual preferences” for Asian women and men’s perceived entitlement over Asian female bodies do not exist in a vacuum. This rhetoric has built upon itself for centuries and today, we feel its repercussions. 

I’ve largely felt a disconnect with how I present myself versus how I feel I am, at my core. Much of my perceptions of being liked is tied to being seen as attractive. To be unattractive is to lack value because Asian women are “most valued” when fetishized. I will have to work to unlearn this convoluted thinking. Having these thoughts, however, spawned an intrigue in androgynous expression and fashion for me— loose-fitted clothes, bare face, short hair, etc. Lately, I’ve been enjoying loosely fitted clothes because some days, I’m just not in the mood to be reminded of my body’s curves. Somedays I wish I didn’t have breasts and on others, I fantasize about life with a penis. Interestingly, I learned that it is not an uncommon thought for women to yearn (for lack of a better word) for male genitalia— “penis envy” as Freud calls it. I don’t want people to perceive me as a woman, or as anything at all. Yet, on many days, I feel… fine and I don’t have these intrusive thoughts or feelings of misalignment with my true self and performative self. This is how the can of worms was opened. This is the train of thought I followed to begin the exploration of my gender identity. And to be completely honest, I haven’t gotten far. 

I’ve held onto this misconception that anyone would just know instinctively how they identify. I know that’s not true because my coming-out was not intuitive to me until I became a young adult. It was not the popularized narrative of being in the closet and having known I was bisexual my entire life. Some things just take time; it doesn’t come as a hugely memorable AHA! moment. I think that’s what has terrified me most about delving deep into my identity. I try not to ask myself questions I can’t answer because it scares me to think I don’t have the answer yet. I keep asking myself if I truly feel a disconnect from womanhood or if I’m just tired of how I’m perceived and expected to act. Do I really not want to have breasts or do I just occasionally feel inconvenienced by them? Why don’t I want to be perceived as a woman? Is it because I don’t identify as one or because I don’t like being stereotyped in general? 

All in all, I don’t have concrete answers but I do have a feeling that there is weight behind what I feel and that it’s okay not to know. Gender is so fluid and how people choose to express their gender could change over the course of their lifetime. As for how I introduce myself right now— Hi, my name is Hayden. I’m 20 years old. And my pronouns are she/they.