Acoustic on Nostr: I value the opinion of those I see as girls far more than most. Worse, it is ...
I value the opinion of those I see as girls far more than most. Worse, it is essentially limited to those I know or imagine are conventionally attractive.
I think it’s common among men. We’re taught that our value comes from how attractive we are to them. Even things we generally associate with making men valuable, like work, money, strength, are often posed in the context of attracting women. It’s a major aspect of patriarchy, and a big part of what makes white womanhood so powerful and oppressive. Everyone is chasing the approval of the white woman.
I’m not blind to it. I see it. The way I scope out the AFABs in a space. The entire time I’m talking to someone who is a woman, there’s part of me that’s thinking “okay but is she trans or cis?” And pre-t trans men, I just don’t see them as men. They’re just tomboys to me. I can’t even see Yim how he wants me to see him. And I am ashamed of that. Worse, I’m forced to be dishonest about what I’m asking, or what I want to know, because it could be far too painful for me to just say it out. And I despise that sort of fakeness. I want to be able to say what I’m thinking. What I’m feeling. I want them to know.
It’s not just about attraction or sex. That is a factor, yes. And I think a lot of men also overestimate how much it’s about that. Mostly, it’s about a need for validation. To feel valuable. To feel wanted. And I’m ashamed to say I simply do not value it in essentially anyone else. So many people who genuinely understand me, who genuinely believe in me. I talk about the way that men are undervalued in these spaces, how they’re nobodies unless they are able to prove their value. But I’m no better. I do the exact same thing.
So many problems for others tied to this as well. It’s usually posed as a need for emotional support from women and the burden that puts on them, though I see this framing as a white-feminist one that puts all the onus on men to somehow change how they were socialized, and ignores the pain this socialization has caused them in favor of how it is inconvenient to women. Never mind the way they have systemically benefited from this in the background. But the problems these feelings cause for others don’t stop there. Women who don’t meet conventional beauty standards become invisible much like men. Thankfully, in recent years body image and trans inclusivity have really helped to alleviate this I think. But still, it’s common. And I am a perpetrator. And even though I know it’s not my fault I’m like this, I feel the eyes on me. I feel the shame.
It all feels like some sort of cruel irony. I just want to find a woman or girl who values me. One I’m attracted to and that my brain goes “yes, this one is acceptable, her opinion matters!” and have them love and validate me. But instead what I get is everyone but them. I’ve practically developed a following of people who seem to genuinely believe in and appreciate me, not because I give them attention but because they see my value, they see the ways I’m great, and they respect and love me for them. And I can barely show appreciation to any of them. Each of them gives me a small drop in the bucket, when what my soul craves is so stupid, so silly, and most devastatingly, so shallow and pathetic: For a girl my brain seems to be “acceptable” to pour her heart into me. To make me finally feel like I’m worthy. Make me feel loved. Make me feel amazing. And until I get that, my heart will be empty. But I can’t even pity myself, because everywhere around me tells me this is my fault, and talks about the pain this causes others. Not the pain it causes me. Not the pain it causes so many men. The pain it causes them. The unfairness of it to them. So in all of my pain, I am simply labeled the villain and the perpetrator of my own suffering.
I wish I weren’t good. I wish I just let myself go to anger and hatred. I wish I would just let go and stop the pain like I know I could so, so easily. But I can’t. And in expressing this, in sharing my pain, I know that so many will simply be hurt and come away from this hating me more for having said it. Resenting me for how I am. And those few who try to comfort me will be barely any relief. Drop of water on a thirsty tongue. And I will once again go to sleep, starving and in pain.
I think it’s common among men. We’re taught that our value comes from how attractive we are to them. Even things we generally associate with making men valuable, like work, money, strength, are often posed in the context of attracting women. It’s a major aspect of patriarchy, and a big part of what makes white womanhood so powerful and oppressive. Everyone is chasing the approval of the white woman.
I’m not blind to it. I see it. The way I scope out the AFABs in a space. The entire time I’m talking to someone who is a woman, there’s part of me that’s thinking “okay but is she trans or cis?” And pre-t trans men, I just don’t see them as men. They’re just tomboys to me. I can’t even see Yim how he wants me to see him. And I am ashamed of that. Worse, I’m forced to be dishonest about what I’m asking, or what I want to know, because it could be far too painful for me to just say it out. And I despise that sort of fakeness. I want to be able to say what I’m thinking. What I’m feeling. I want them to know.
It’s not just about attraction or sex. That is a factor, yes. And I think a lot of men also overestimate how much it’s about that. Mostly, it’s about a need for validation. To feel valuable. To feel wanted. And I’m ashamed to say I simply do not value it in essentially anyone else. So many people who genuinely understand me, who genuinely believe in me. I talk about the way that men are undervalued in these spaces, how they’re nobodies unless they are able to prove their value. But I’m no better. I do the exact same thing.
So many problems for others tied to this as well. It’s usually posed as a need for emotional support from women and the burden that puts on them, though I see this framing as a white-feminist one that puts all the onus on men to somehow change how they were socialized, and ignores the pain this socialization has caused them in favor of how it is inconvenient to women. Never mind the way they have systemically benefited from this in the background. But the problems these feelings cause for others don’t stop there. Women who don’t meet conventional beauty standards become invisible much like men. Thankfully, in recent years body image and trans inclusivity have really helped to alleviate this I think. But still, it’s common. And I am a perpetrator. And even though I know it’s not my fault I’m like this, I feel the eyes on me. I feel the shame.
It all feels like some sort of cruel irony. I just want to find a woman or girl who values me. One I’m attracted to and that my brain goes “yes, this one is acceptable, her opinion matters!” and have them love and validate me. But instead what I get is everyone but them. I’ve practically developed a following of people who seem to genuinely believe in and appreciate me, not because I give them attention but because they see my value, they see the ways I’m great, and they respect and love me for them. And I can barely show appreciation to any of them. Each of them gives me a small drop in the bucket, when what my soul craves is so stupid, so silly, and most devastatingly, so shallow and pathetic: For a girl my brain seems to be “acceptable” to pour her heart into me. To make me finally feel like I’m worthy. Make me feel loved. Make me feel amazing. And until I get that, my heart will be empty. But I can’t even pity myself, because everywhere around me tells me this is my fault, and talks about the pain this causes others. Not the pain it causes me. Not the pain it causes so many men. The pain it causes them. The unfairness of it to them. So in all of my pain, I am simply labeled the villain and the perpetrator of my own suffering.
I wish I weren’t good. I wish I just let myself go to anger and hatred. I wish I would just let go and stop the pain like I know I could so, so easily. But I can’t. And in expressing this, in sharing my pain, I know that so many will simply be hurt and come away from this hating me more for having said it. Resenting me for how I am. And those few who try to comfort me will be barely any relief. Drop of water on a thirsty tongue. And I will once again go to sleep, starving and in pain.