Fridae

It appears that staring has gradually become an integral part of my lifestyle. No, not me staring at others, but vice versa. And that's on good days. On bad days, I literally become an exhibit, like a zoo animal actually, with people not only staring, but pointing and whispering among themselves about me. Why? Because I'm a lesbian, or, to be more specific, a butch. Butches are basically girls who dress like men and behave like men. Generally, most butches would bind their chest, sport short hair and dress in men's clothes.

When I walk in the streets, in my shirt, pants, short hair and a bound chest, holding my girlfriend's hand, many, if not all, eyes are on me. I attract stares like bees to honey. Everywhere I go, heads turn. Not because I look good or because I have the guts to be who I truly am, but because I am 'weird', 'abnormal', maybe even a freak.

Maybe we can simply brush all this aside, ignore these people and tell ourselves that it's not worth getting worked up over them. But humans don't live alone, do we? It is impossible to simply ignore the stares, specifically, the scorn in the stares.

That's not all. Going to the little girls' room is a real pain. My friend was actually chased out of the toilet by one of the toilet attendants once. Besides fending off fierce toilet attendants, we also have to deal with the questioning and suspicious stares and the little girls respectfully calling us 'gor gor' (hokkien for older brother) in the toilet. So, answering nature's call has always been like practising guerilla warfare.

First, we have to check if the coast is clear: that there are empty cubicles. Then we have to act fast and rush into the toilets and head directly to the cubicles. When we are safe in the cubicles, then we can rest easy for a while. When nature's call is done, we rush out of the cubicle, wash our hands and dive into the safety of the crowd. Either that, or we can use the 'camouflage' method and bring a femme in with us.

Regardless of the situation, the fact is people simply adore plastering their eyes on us. We are an increasingly prominent group of people. So there is no reason for people to be ignorant of our existence. If that's the case, it can't be curiosity, can it? So I suppose that leaves scorn? But why are we scorned? Because we're a new breed of people? Because we're not normal? Who's to say what's normal and what's not? We just want to be who we are. Why is it so hard for people to accept and understand that?

I suppose people don't like change, things which they are unfamiliar with. However, what can we do? What should we do? Change ourselves? I do not know about others, but I personally did not choose to be this way. It was not by choice that I became a lesbian. I was born this way. I like girls.

To tell the truth, I have wished many times, that I was normal, that I could like men, that I could enjoy dressing femininely. But the truth is I can't. I firmly believe that if one had a choice, one would not go against nature deliberately and make herself (or himself) 'unnatural' or 'weird' or 'abnormal'. It's just too much of a uphill ride.

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There's also pressure from my family too. My mum hates my short hair and she has always nagged me about it. I never dared to cut my hair too short for fear of incurring her displeasure. Clothes too. She hates my clothes. Sometimes, I think she simply hates the sight of me. Once, she confronted me with her suspicions that I was a lesbian. She sent me to a psychiatrist, to get me 'tested'. My mum firmly believed that she could change me, if I was really a lesbian. Only that didn't work - I figured I must have fooled the psychiatrist into thinking I was 'normal'.

Unfortunately, my mum was not convinced. She kept commenting about my clothes, behaviour, hair, friends, everything that hinted at me being a lesbian. She was driving me nuts. I was so scared of my mum that I even had nightmares of her. I was a nervous freak. Time and again, I wished I was dead. Life was simply too difficult.

Then there is school and work. The guys simply ignore girls who are not pretty and feminine. Me, dressed in bermudas and t-shirts, with short hair, I don't exactly fall into either the pretty or feminine category. So, I'm effectively avoided, shunned and invisible in school. Not that I mind, I've gotten used to it. Then there're the girls. It's generally the same, except there's a lot more gossiping and bitching behind your back. I've gotten used to that too.

School, to me, is just a place where I'm working for my degree. I go only for lessons and I don't get involved in school activities. I would really like to try, but how? Nobody would give me the chance. To them, I'm just a freak, a butch. What they don't know, they ignore, they scorn.

No matter how I tried to convince myself, the pressure just got worse. I was depressed and almost suicidal. I developed a phobia for dressing like a butch. So I kept my hair long, dressed in more androgynous clothes and I threw away my bind. I thought that that could solve all my problems. I thought that maybe it would make me 'normal'. My actions paid off, a little at least - it made my mum happier and going to the girls' toilet was a breeze.

However, this did not make my life very much easier. There were pressures again. This time round, from fellow butches, the femmes and most importantly, myself. Butches would stare and wonder what was wrong with me. Or at least that was what I thought they were thinking.

Maybe I'm just more self-conscious but like it or not, the stares continued and the pressure mounted. I did not look like a butch, but I did not look like a 'normal' girl either. I was like undergoing this identity crisis. It was difficult. I was having problems with my self-esteem, I worried about my girlfriend leaving me. All because I was a butch who didn't look like one. Life was not any easier; I may have succeeded in reducing the pressures from 'external sources' but the pressures from within were increasing and they were killing me. I hated myself for betraying myself, for being ashamed of who I was. It just doesn't get easier, does it?

I have since decided to disregard the way I look and focus instead on just doing things that I like and being myself. It was with a lot of support from my girlfriend that I was able to decide this way. She supported me and assured me of her love, regardless of my label or the way I looked.

So I figure, no matter how dark the clouds, there'll always be a silver lining. Love. I consider myself a lucky person, despite the pressures and the stares. I have the love of a wonderful person and that makes life a lot easier and very much more bearable.