On Not Being The Man

Lance A Worth's picture

Sorry I've been away. I've been getting used to University (I transferred). As I'm likely to do, I'm getting involved in Student Activities (I was a Senator in my old school, etc).

Our school's Student Orgs do a lot of collaboration, and so I went over to an organization for Women Of Color. Growing up in Los Angeles, I found myself in these spaces a lot, so I thought it would be simple and familiar.

And then I thought, "Oh, wait, no. I'm a guest now. I wonder how that will feel?" We've been talking a lot in a transmasculine group I'm a part of about masculinity and how appearing more congruent can change the reactions of others. I walked in paying mindful attention to that, observing my own interior and the established flow of the group. It was familiar and alien at once.

Talking it over with a friend, I tried to isolate the differences. For me, time is a chart. There are lines and boundaries for when I'm supposed to be where doing what. In this room, the time seemed almost formless. The underlying current breathed, "There is nowhere to be but here, now." This was reflected in the way the women spoke and moved. I tried to approximate the particular flow of the conversation and found it responded to warmly.

When my presentation was done, I thanked them for their time and excused myself, returning to my group's office. Felt like I hadn't made a dork of myself. Hopefully I was right.

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