Bridal suit shopping because I’m a combo platter of femininity and masculine traits
I tried on a couple of the dresses and felt more uncomfortable than I have felt since the fifth grade, when I allowed a girl to put makeup on my face for the first time. I saw the beauty in it — it just didn’t feel right. Why did I want to wear a dress? All I could think about was my desire not to fulfill a stereotype that I actually fit into — the dress/pants lesbian wedding. Was that worth the discomfort that I knew I would encounter on what is supposed to be the best day of my life? NO. Time to look for a new plan.
Gender-bending bride: why I’m wearing a suit and a veil
I went to try on dresses. Me — in all my genderqueer, butch, transmasculine glory — in a traditional bridal salon, trying on wedding gowns. I found “The Dress.” But I didn’t buy The Dress. I’m not going to wear The Dress or any other dress. That’s not the point.
How I figured out what to wear despite my gender ambivalence
I know, I know: be yourself! Wear what you want to! But the last thing I want is a bunch of complicated questions about gender identity from extended family members I only met me the day before. It can be awfully hard to untangle how you want to feel in your clothes from how you want others to react to them.
A butch bridentity crisis: pretending I don’t care
I am butch. I have short hair and don’t wear bling, or dresses, or sexy underwear, and love button-downs, and am a martial artist… I occupy “masculine” on the public radar. I am very excited for the wedding. but at the end of the day I am damn excited to put on fancy clothes and say nice things to my gentleman and eat awesome food and have our parents meet each other and get my relationship validated by our families. So, why am I so determined to pretend I don’t care?