Becoming Who I Am
It started with my brothers. There were certain things that were always clear to me: I was different because I was not my brothers. I was different because I was not a boy. I was different because I was a girl.
It started with my brothers. There were certain things that were always clear to me: I was different because I was not my brothers. I was different because I was not a boy. I was different because I was a girl. Later, Lucilectric brought out a song about being a girl, and it was actually quite good – the chorus was, at any rate. Very catchy. Ich bin so froh, dass ich `n Mädchen bin [I’m so glad I’m a girl]. But the verses were mainly about the guy who was standing next to the girl, about his nice bum, and about how he bought her nice things so she was happy to let him kiss her. This was the “feminism” I grew up with. A few years ago the singer herself described the lyrics as outdated. But in those days, when I was a teenager, that song felt like a little revolution – because the idea of being glad to be a girl was a revelation.
My brothers were the norm – I was the Other. This was not entirely a bad thing. “I really wanted a girl, after the two boys,” my mum often said. I think she meant it in a loving way. But the older I got, the more I experienced it as a kind of pressure. The expectation was, of course, that the long-awaited girl should turn out the way girls are supposed to turn out.
My body was not supposed to take up too much space.
As the third child, like many children with older siblings, I was allowed certain freedoms which my brothers had had to fight for. But there were other freedoms I did not enjoy. The freedom to eat lots of carbs, for instance. Once, when I was a teenager, I was making myself some pasta when my brother took me aside and gave me some unsolicited advice: don’t eat too much of that. My body was not supposed to take up too much space. It would never have occurred to me to give my brother advice about his diet. This was surely due in part to the age difference between us, but even more surely to the gender stereotypes in a heteronormative working-class West German family.
The family is often described as the nucleus of society. In my case this is true. My family was ruled by men, just as the world we live in is ruled by men. So there’s not much that surprises me. A while ago I was debating an issue with two men as part of a panel discussion. Afterwards, several audience members told me how heated they had found the debate. I just thought: that was a kitchen-table argument with my brothers and my dad.
I was and am not a “miss” or a “young lady” (anyway, “young lady” is mainly used for people perceived as female who are visibly no longer young, isn’t it?) And yes, I don't want to stand up when they call “Mrs Kaiser”. I do it because society, in this case in the form of the doctor, demands it of me. And, of course, because these days you’re grateful to even get a doctor’s appointment in the first place. So I stand up when they call Mrs Kaiser – partly because I don’t have the energy to openly object to the gender they’ve assigned me. The frustrating thing is, it could all be so easy.
Filling in the registration form for an event, I’m asked to provide my name and my pronouns (she or none), and to tick either “generally female”, “generally male”, or “non-binary”. Clicking on ‘generally female’ feels right to me. Partly because this option makes it clear that the people who designed the question know there’s more than just Mr or Mrs Kaiser. There’s a whole spectrum of gender identities.
“Gender is confusing,” says drag queen Barbie Brakeout
“Gender is confusing,” says drag queen Barbie Brakeout on the podcast Doppelmaushälfte. And it’s true. But the main reason gender is so confusing is that we force it into pigeonholes, and then stick labels on these pigeonholes – labels which are also value judgements. This starts very, very early on. It starts when pregnant people are asked: what are you having?
There’s a great deal of discussion in the media and online at the moment about so-called “gender disappointment”: yet more evidence of the pigeonholes we are put into and how restrictive they are to all of us. Because in the end, when someone is asked “what are you having?”, surely the only answer can be: a person. A person capable of developing freely and discovering themselves. And quite apart from the restrictive gender stereotypes it is based on, I believe gender disappointment to be the height of transphobia. Because we don’t have to know our gender identity from the moment we’re born. I’ve seldom encountered a baby who told everyone which gender they identified with at birth. And just as a human being develops and changes over the course of their life, so gender identity can develop and change. Even 44-year-olds who are perceived as female and addressed as Miss, Mrs or lady are allowed to ask themselves: am I really a woman?
Become who you are! Hilde Domin
Instead of thinking in terms of restrictive pigeonholes, we could see gender as a spectrum, just as that event registration form did, and we could certainly provide a wider range of options than “generally female”, “generally male” and “non-binary”. I’m certain that in years to come there will be more options to tick. So that people in waiting rooms will no longer have to worry about which name will be called out. So that pregnant people will be able to bring children into the world who can be anything they want to be. So that we can all become who we are.
