Because I am one. Yeah, that kind.
I accept all the criticism of us as well-placed, even though I know the discussion hasn’t been about me, personally.
“Eww, why do you choose to ally yourself with and identify with Nice Guys?”
It’s not like politics, where you pick a self. You’re born with some characteristics, and you’re not just them and you’re not just your experiences, it’s both. But when the description nails you pretty well, yeah, you’re a representative sample of the ones they’re talking about, it’s kind of senseless not to accept that external observation as part of your identity.
I do a lot of thinking about identity, in part because I’m a very self-immersed narcissistic person, but also in part because it’s a shared identity. Maybe collectively we aren’t at our best because we haven’t got our shit together like the gay dudes and the lesbians and the transgender women and the radical feminists and militant dykes and transgender men.
I think I do fit under genderqueer. A lot of XX-typical female people grew up shaped by the inclination to be a nice girl. It’s a shared identity, I saw it in 2nd grade and wanted to be a part of it.
Identifying with that and trying to shape myself towards that and the resultant ways in which I interacted with everyone else… doesn’t mean I’m a genuinely nice person. I think I’ve been some of the awful things we’ve been said to be, that my behavior hasn’t been all that benign or warm or supportive. I think I’ve gotten better, though. But I’m still one of the male kids who latched onto the nice girl notion of how you should ideally be, because it made so much sense.
Yeah, nice guys.
For my own part, it didn’t make me resent my physiology. Oh, I thought about it, just like I thought about doing sex with people of conventional male bodies, because if you’ve already paid the price of being thought of as such, why wouldn’t you? But, no, it’s not that, it’s not wanting to be female. Whether as surgically modified or as perceived and received as. No, I want them to understand me as that while accepting that I have XY-typical morphology and that I’m okay with that.
(And someday, dammit, I’m going to get sufficiently good at saying all this shit in words. I’ve only been at it for 45 years…)