I have a question for you…do you think the femininity that you exude now is the femininity you are initially supposed to exude or is it the one that the world tells you to exude? Come to think of it, even if it’s the one the world tells you to exude does that mean it’s not the truest form of femininity?
If the world tells us to don pretty frocks and submit to the male gender, they have to have gotten it from somewhere, right? Is it real? Has that always been our place in life? Are women supposed to just simply live the way the world has taught them to because the true form of femininity remains a mystery?
I have often wondered if the way I act is because of how I am supposed to act naturally or it is what I have been taught along the way or it’s both.
There’s this unfortunate situation that plagues women and it is that they ought to dress up and look beautiful. All the time. As I have previously mentioned it more than a couple times over, women’s beauty is their social currency and even a man’s. When a woman looks put together, she’s treated like a human being worthy of respect. I’m sure you’ve seen how awful and disrespectful society can be to women who aren’t considered conventionally attractive. If they aren’t completely ignored or alienated, they are ridiculed. We live in a look obsessed society and human beings are big on perception. That’s why I would say a majority of us have a fear of being perceived (that’s a topic for another day).
We have a fear of not looking our best even to the point where we shame each other into shaving armpit hair or coochie hair (umm, it’s my coochie hair).
We shame each other for the state of our hair.
We shame each other for outfit choices.
The list is endless.
However, that’s not to say I am against women helping each other or giving each other constructive criticism when it comes to improvement or betterment. The awfulness comes in the SHAMING other women when they don’t perform the way you expect them to.
Another thing I have an issue with is the whole idea that society has given men the permission to dictate how women should act, hence the performativity that comes with femininity.
So, what is the performativity of femininity?
It suggests that gender, including femininity, is not an innate or fixed trait but rather a set of behaviours, actions, and expressions that are socially constructed and performed according to societal expectations.
Anything that you do to express your gender which is not innate but is the result of human cultural ideas of gender – you are “performing” your gender.
Almost all gender expression is performed. That is to say, almost every way in which you communicate your gender to others around you is a culturally determined performance of gender rather than an innate biological expression.
You perform your gender through
- your clothes, shoes, accessories, hairstyle, selective shaving/trimming of facial hair and body hair, etc. all selected according to cultural standards of gender
- your body language – e.g. how you walk, your gestures, how you position your knees when you sit, whether you bend at the waist to tie your shoelaces or kneel down on one knee…
- your chosen title of address, i.e. Mr., Ms., Mrs., and so on.
- your role in big events, celebrations or ceremonies – Homecoming queen, best man, priest, baby shower attendee… all these are gendered.
- a million little socialised behaviours, everything from your ‘neutral’ facial expression while talking to people or while on TV (‘neutral’ tends to mean a poker face for men and a smile for women) to letting someone through the door first because of their gender.
- a million BIG socialised behaviours, everything from getting in a physical fight to performing emotional or physical caregiving work on a daily basis.
– Nandini Seshadri.
Society has us performing like circus monkeys…
Last week was hectic. It was exam week and I almost lost whatever is left of my sanity. Plot twist: it’s not that much. I had three exams following each other. There were no breaks to be had. Sleep is now but a concept for me. Sleep in college is a luxury. I dream about sleep and that’s a bit sad but here we are.
I was running on 2 hours of sleep every day and it wasn’t what I would describe as an ideal situation. I had 2-month-old braids, puffy eyes with circles around them and a serious wardrobe malfunction. I love dressing up. I love clothes and the idea of telling a story through what I wear. During exams I dressed exactly how I felt; exhausted, miserable and on the verge of returning to the dust from whence I came. My outfit wasn’t bad, it was practical. It was a midnight blue t-shirt (I could have sworn that I had picked a plain black t-shirt when I was sifting through my clothes), black oversized sweatpants and black Doc Martens. Look, it wasn’t my best look but it wasn’t awful either.
So, after exams I made to skedaddle home to prepare for the next exam but lo and behold, I was supposed to socialise. I had to greet my colleagues and make small talk. I’m not against that, it’s just that I was running on Bio-plus, an energy drink and a banana that didn’t taste very good so I lacked the necessary energy befitting a functional member of society. After the catching up, lamenting, whining and crying over our difficult paper I started in the direction to head home.
Then a male and his other friends decided to grace me with their presence. Needless to say, I was not amused. These human beings started going on and on about how awful I looked. Here are a few of my favourite lines from these dudes;
“You have a boyfriend? Well, I don’t think he’s maintaining you. Look at your hair.”
“Shawty, why are you dressed like this today?”
“Shawty, you look like a boy in that big ass t-shirt, those big ass pants and those massive boots.”
“Damn, you look rough.”
“I’m only telling you all of this to motivate you to come dressed better tomorrow. People often tell you that you look great. No one will tell you that today.”
The list of their very much unwelcomed opinions was infinite. However, I didn’t really care. All I cared about was comfort and performing my best in the exams that are held in the Great Hall or the Great Hell as we all like to call it. When I finally turned to face them, my shoulders squared, my eyes narrowed and my chin raised defiantly I said, “I really couldn’t care less about any of that.”
They were shocked by my reply. Shocked because I said what I said and I looked like I meant it. Well, that’s the thing, I meant every word I said, no two ways about it.
Their shock gave me what I think was an epiphany (it looks like I tend to get these whenever I have an interaction with a male). I realised that the men I had the displeasure of associating with were displeased by my performance or in this case, lack thereof. I wasn’t what they expected out of femininity. I wasn’t smiling. I wasn’t politely chatty. I didn’t sound as pious as a nun nor did I look like an asset stacked bbl body from Miami. I just wasn’t who they expected me to be or who they were used to me being; palatable, polite, put-together, prim and proper. I wasn’t digestible, heck my exam season evil twin wasn’t even allowing herself to be swallowed so they were choking on who I was and not who they expected me to always be.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind being put-together. In fact, I love looking my best because it makes me feel absolutely amazing. When I was younger, I loved dressing up and looking cute so that boys in my class could tell me I looked pretty. I hadn’t broken free from that whole yucky male validation cesspit that makes me want to retch, poke my eyes out and jump off of Machu Pichu whenever I have horrid flashbacks of how male centred, I was.
As I was saying, I love looking like a snack. I find that looking my best helps me to execute all my tasks efficiently and even proudly. I’m simply at my best when I look my best. It took me a while to stop feminine performativity when I was picking outfits right down to how I spoke. It took a while but I eventually got there especially after asking myself WHY?
Why did I care what Mr So and So said to me or thought about me? It’s not like their opinions were fact. They were merely just opinion. That acceptance that I don’t owe anyone else but myself …well, myself, I grew wings. I became something fierce.
So, I’ve prattled on and on about my own distasteful experiences (are they ever positive? Do I need therapy? I think we all do. Then our therapists will also need therapists who need therapists) so I’ll hush now.
So, performativity of femininity, where does it come from?
Constructed Through Repetition:
Here’s the poopy thing about tradition and abuse or bigotry or inequality neatly and cleverly crafted as “culture”, they tend to stick. It goes on and on, sometimes becoming more and more harmful until it eventually takes shape and explodes in the vilest way possible. Femininity is dictated through years and years of passed on indoctrination. In my culture it is believed that women should be seen not heard. It is believed women should dress modestly so as not to anger the ancestors into not giving us rain…yes, because whether it rains or not depends on how short my shorts are on a hot day underneath the blazing Zimbabwean sun.
Judith Butler argues that gender identity is created through repeated acts and rituals, such as dress, speech, and behaviour, which align with societal norms for “feminine” traits. For example, wearing makeup, speaking softly, or taking on caregiving roles can be seen as “performing” femininity.
Influenced by Social Norms:
I’m sure it’s common knowledge that most of our societies are patriarchal (hence the wars, depression and arbitrary laws that seek to dictate women’s bodily autonomy—or lack thereof lol.)
What is considered “feminine” varies across cultures and historical contexts. It is shaped by societal values, media portrayals, and patriarchal structures. I don’t how many wise old men and women have told me that women aren’t supposed to be loud or argumentative. I remember when a close family friend found out that my isitshwala cooking skills were subpar or even non-existent and she nearly died right there on my grandmother’s polished floors. She asked me what kind of woman I was and which men would court me if I didn’t know how to cook well or control my crooked little tongue.
These social norms have been integrated into our everyday lives. These norms dictate how individuals are expected to behave based on their assigned gender.
Power and Subversion:
The performance of femininity can either reinforce or challenge gender norms.
Intersectionality:
The way femininity is performed or perceived is influenced by race, class, culture, and sexuality.
Black feminist scholars, for example, highlight how expectations of femininity differ for black women, who often face stereotypes that conflict with mainstream notions of femininity. For some reason, the global west is convinced that black women are angry and unreasonable this has led us to being masculinised by the rest of the world. The rest of the world, inclusive of self-hating black people think black women look like men simply because of how thick our noses are or how big our lips are or how massive our bodies are. They don’t think we’re feminine enough. Rather, they don’t think we’re feminine enough for their own set standards of femininity.
I don’t find anything wrong with being feminine or hyperfeminine. Heck, I can be hyperfeminine on very, very, very rare occasions. It’s okay to be hyper feminine as long as it’s VOLUNTARY. I look to my left and feel a pit of insecurity forming in my stomach. I start to think, why aren’t I wearing a dress that looks like hers? Why aren’t my nails done like hers? Then I look to my right and see a woman wearing sweatpants and a stained t-shirt and think whoa, I certainly look better than she does that’s for sure.
That’s when I caught myself. I said whoa now Nonkosi…what kind of behaviour is this? That’s when I realised that performative femininity is terrifying because it pits women against each other because of a construct that came to be as a result of unsupported opinion and perception. Surprise, surprise, I guess.
I’ve learnt that my femininity is fluid. It’s a spectrum! Some days I want to look like a baddie with flawless Uche inspired makeup complete with lashes. I want to have a manicure and a pedicure and rock a dress and heels. Some days I want to wear oversized sweatpants and stained t-shirts. Sometimes I want to wear skirts and cute blouses with a pair of knee-high boots then I want to wear a pair of shorts, mismatched socks with slides and a vest that has seen better days. But guess what? That doesn’t make me any less feminine—whatever your perception of femininity is.
I can be feminine anywhere, any time and in any way that I prefer.
I had this weird male friend who would look around the area to see if other men were watching us. When he was satisfied that he had a large potential male audience, his voice suddenly went up an octave. My dude proceeded to grab my arm and scream, “Well that’s what I said. Now learn to listen and get into the car shawty!”
Long story, short, I yanked my arm away from him, flipped him the bird and stomped away. We aren’t friends anymore. His masculinity was and is so performative that he wanted to exert his poorly constructed dominance (if we can even call it that) on me in front of a bunch of dudes he didn’t even know. I was so grossed out and so upset. He was taken aback because I didn’t perform my femininity the way that I was supposed to. I didn’t perform adequately enough to match his own performance and that didn’t sit well with him at all.
That being said, femininity is not a monolith. Femininity is fluid. Femininity is whatever you want it to be dear woman. It’s not what your society wants it to be, what your mum and dad say it is, it is not what that rude aunt says it is and it is definitely not what that man who does not play an influential role in your life says it is. Your femininity is yours alone and how you choose to wear it or express it is entirely up to you.
- The “Weird” Brown Girl.
sources:
https://www.cla.purdue.edu/academic/english/theory/genderandsex/modules/butlergendersex.html
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