Give Me Some Space Bitch: My Thoughts on Institutions Making me Small(ish)
I grew up with the idea that women must be small being subconsciously (and consciously) drilled into my head. The first time I was ever told to “suck in” my stomach was when I was nine years old, when my mom and I were in the grocery store—
“Pretty girls suck their stomachs in. Now that you’re old enough, it’s time you do it too.”
To this day, I notice myself sucking in more when I take selfies, pose for photos, and worst: walk past men. Men are not my priority, yet I have been engrained with the idea that I must be “beautiful” to them at all times. Interesting.
What is more interesting is the way I still feel the need to cross my legs in public, never use the armrest, and never push past people unless absolutely necessary. I have been organically trained to take up as little room as possible.
But I am 5’9” and 250 pounds.
I’m not exactly invisible.
I was told at one point in my life that if you date a man, you must be shorter than him. I threw out all of my heels. But I love wearing heels—it makes me feel like a boss ass bitch. At what point did society start teaching women that they need to shrink to be worthy of care and attention?
I cannot imagine the turmoil that tall trans women encounter by simply existing. Tall women like myself are watched under close scrutiny when we walk into a room. I used to slouch when I arrived: I would rather feel the pain in my back than the pain of eyes stabbing into me. I felt ugly and unwanted simply for taking up room.
Who was that room supposed to be for? Oh yeah, cis white straight men, of course.
Institutionalized opinions don’t sound good in other people’s mouths, and don’t feel good inside other people’s heads, including mine. I deleted picture after picture of me being genuinely happy in the Castro because I “had a double chin” or my “arms look too big,” until it occurred to me that that didn’t equate to an unattractive body. And even if so, an unattractive body didn’t equate to someone undeserving of happiness.
In the Castro I began to redefine my own definition of beautiful, and it wasn’t being small. I noticed people intentionally making themselves appear larger than life, and people stared, but no longer daggers, rather: awe. The societal standard of beauty must have been thrown away decades ago, because, everyone seemed confident in their existence.
It occurred to me that I am happier when I am happy to be existing, and that means taking up as much space as I deserve, and then some.
Every morning I start by doing a little stretch. I straighten my back and it feels incredible. It feels incredible to fill out the space I deserve, even if it isn’t the space I have been institutionally given.
