I’m Not Female

[About Cat Hartliebe]

I had a dream. A guy was attracted to me. Some random white guy that seems so normal in my life. He wasn’t aggressive or hateful. A nice guy. Innocent. Youthful.

So we are placed in an area that’d for only two people. We’re stuck there until our ride ends. Which means I get to look at this guy who I treat as a friend. I don’t mind him. It’s not like he attacked me or anything. Everyone looks.

Then I get a confession.

Ooooh… I don’t really care. Because this guy doesn’t see me the way I need to be seen for a relationship. I’m not sexually attracted to him. He’s ugly. He doesn’t make any sensations happen anywhere for me. And we haven’t gotten close enough for long enough for me to be romantically attracted yet either. So he’s being honest early on about his attraction and interest.

He’s cool. He also only sees me as female. When people treat me as only a female, it’s a stabbing pain happening near my heart. The emotional hit is devastating. You have no idea what you cause. Being told I’m female. Being forced to act as female. It makes me suicidal. Nothing else hits me anywhere near as hard.

You don’t shove a cat in a box.

I try not to think about, I try to ignore it, but every time someone uses she or her for me it reminds me of every time I’ve been forced to pretend. I wouldn’t say he/him would offer a better option either, although because it doesn’t connect to the decades of cruelty my life has faced, it’s easier to handle than she/her.

I am not female. I will never be female. I never was female.

The conditioning I received made me suicidal. I don’t have a family that understands. I have few friends who do either. It’s part of why I’m backing off from everyone. Because it’s easier to not get hurt when no one is close enough to do so.

Which leads me to loneliness. Loneliness is easier to deal with.

I refused the guy letting him know I’m genderfluid. The fact I wear dresses or have long hair doesn’t make me female. My body does not make me female. Your assumptions do not make me female. He didn’t get it. If the dream had continued, I would have refrained from being a real friend for him. Because that’s what I do. I offer a chance and normally the person blows it.

I’m not female. It doesn’t matter what you think. Out of the two boxes, I pick it, but it doesn’t make me female. No matter how many times you force me to pick female, I’ll never be.

I’ve had previous thoughts. Thoughts of being in a long term relationship with a female. Being allowed to lean on my masculine desires for looks and interests. Making the pair of us look more passing. None of that would be a game or play. I want to dress up as a male. I want people to think I’m male. At least let them question what I am. The only way I could pull off looking like a man is if I had a female to play off of. Because I can look more masculine than them. I am more masculine than a female.

The relationship I’d really want is one with another genderfluid person. Because they’d understand. They’d understand my desires to look different. They understand the disconnect with the body on some days and not others. It’s not as if I’m different depending on where I am on the gender spectrum, but different sides of me are more or less active.

Either way I’m not agreeing to a romantic relationship or sexual relationship unless you are sexually attractive to me and want a serious relationship. I’m done playing the game. Society told me this was the direction.

Society is wrong.

Can people stop claiming I’m female? I’m not.

My pronouns are they/them. My gender fluctuates. It changes rapidly. I don’t mind my body generally speaking. It’s fine. Body dysphoria sucks, and I do get it on occasion. But generally, I treat my body as the shell I have to care for. Or I am the photographer and my body is the model.

I wear dresses because they are comfortable. I have long hair because I love my hair. Assuming my looks show my gender will hurt me. It will create a rift between us.

Every time someone uses she/her, I am attacked. I am hurt.

I’m tired of just accepting the pain. I’d rather be alone.

[About Cat Hartliebe]

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