Growing up in the suburbs of Casselberry, Florida you soon learn you’re one thing by the time you get to middle school; you’re one of the few black kids. By the time you get to high school you learn you’re not like other black kids. Being brought up by parents who came from backgrounds in which they were considered “oreos” (black on the outside, white on the inside) their children turned out the same. Out of my three siblings, I was the most awkward. I loved science, I could write pretty well for someone in my age group and I didn’t pick up on “black” behaviors as quickly as my siblings. Deemed “very proper” and enunciating every word when I spoke, I was considered a spectacle in some groups and an outcast in others. Black masculinity had always been portrayed as “thuggish” and hard; me being a socialized and told I’m a girl along with the fact I was told I “acted white” I almost instantly felt out of place among other black children, especially black boys. I felt I could never “measure” up because I was sensitive and small as my peers went through a more “male” puberty. This especially plagued me when I took a more active interest in girls (turns out it didn’t stop me but I was also closeted and too much of a “good” kid to move forward with the girls The forms of masculinity I most related to and saw where that of white, straight, cisgender men and boys. As I grew older though and experienced quite a bit of misogyny, misogynoir, homophobia and racism I craved masculinity that mirrored my own. That’s when I saw them; masculine, queer, black women. Women who didn’t emulate the thuggish exterior of black men like I had seen so many times before but women who wore suits who were seen as scholars and found power through portraying themselves as “distinguished”. After moving from being a skater boi to someone who loved fashion this gave me the reflection I wasn’t getting from Men’s Lifestyle YouTube channels. DapperQ and Qwear were two top forms of representation I took in. They discussed sensitivity, black queer masculinity and masculinity among queer women. As I became better dressed I still watched and took in traditional masculine ideals, especially when it came to girls. I took in gender roles and chose the one that fit me best; the “man’s” role (which with the introduction or queer masculinity simply became the dominant role). I needed to cry less, I couldn’t complain or vent about mt problems, I walk girls to class and carry their books, I must be strong enough to fend for myself and assert my dominance among boys since I was a masculine girl. For what I lacked in size and strength I tried to compensate for it through being well dressed, well-groomed and smart. When I began to take this in I still had the adoption of toxic masculinity on my back. Competing with other boys, participating in one-upmanship, often making jokes about how I could steal someone’s girlfriend or pleasure a woman better than any straight man could (and later specifying the ability to one-up straight white men) I later became tired. I had started my personal “training” in the ways of masculinity that often, regardless of where it came from, emulated that same toxic behavior of straight, white, upper-middle class cisgender men. I had some touches of masculinity that reflected my black experience, singing rap songs that said “these hoes ain’t loyal” or R&B that rang messages to seduced women. From 14 all the way until 18/19 this sucked. It was exhausted to have the tough guise and to feel less than for being more prone to crying, trying to compete with boys and young men. Upon realizing I was nonbinary at 17 and my exhaustion with rigid masculinity, I set out to develop healthy masculinity. A promise I made to myself is that no matter where I was with any aspect of my transition I was never going to be the transmasculine person who became a misogynistic jerk in order to prove my masculinity. I worked at if for the last few years and while I still have some behaviors I’m working on as a person, I do have something that made me happy. My sister and mom noted that I exhibited a positive form of masculinity. As I moved further into my medical transition I noticed I now have male privilege. On the flip side I also know I’m seen as a black man and if I am open, a black queer man. This often poses a new type of danger to me in which it feels like a lateral move in my sense of safety. I did enjoy the chapter that discussed the intersectional approach to viewing masculinity. To me, this felt like the missing piece in how I can further develop myself as a masculine person by examining my masculinity from my experiences as a black, neuroatypical, queer nonbinary person rather than using the masculinity of white, upper-class, white frat boys as my gauge of self improvement. It is through this class I can continue to learn how to become a better person and a better accomplice to women and feminine people across the board.
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