As a boy whose sexuality was always questioned and shamed due my feminine expressions, my relationship with masculinity was always something I sought after but never enjoyed.
Being Fijian, hypermasculinity has been a colonial-core for boys to grow into. From young, you are taught to help out in labour intensive work to prepare the body for tackles in this rugby pitch of life. How you’re valued as a man was based on how well you can perform masculinity.
For me, I was raised by the women in my family. My behaviour was monitored by the maternal members of my family, so it was always measured and rewarded by how well I engaged with their care. In domestic spaces, where the women of my family were expected to occupy, I was always there helping, even at the early age of six. From washing and hanging laundry, to chopping vegetables, to even sewing and knitting- I was socialised with women. All in all, everything felt normal when I was a child; but as I grew into my teens, the transition changed from celebratory, to shame.
Observations turned into scrutiny and second-hand embarrassment for my parents. I was told to stop sitting with women; I was reminded that just because I helped out in the kitchen, doesn’t mean I have to “act like a gir”; I was even given instruction on how I could move my hands in a way that wasn’t so… flouncy; and in the rugby field I was told to play “like a man”. The external became internal and soon, I was a jock who was constantly looking at his reflection to ensure that he wasn’t standing with his hips poking out. I half-laughed so only the bass could be heard, I pulled my tongue away from my teeth so my S’s didn’t mince in my mouth, and I was constantly ensuring I wasn’t the embarrassing son who should’ve been the daughter. I hated my femininity but felt alien being masculine.
After coming out I distanced myself from my family for a year or so. My queerness allowed me to see my femininity as one of my truest form. I understood that I was most happy when I was allowed to be feminine and began my journey to unlearn the shame. With years of pride in my stride, a new discomfort began to creep in, and again, I find myself between the pull of masc and femme. I had made friends with people who met me in my masculine and new ones who have met me in my feminine. In switching interactions, I noticed I was performing both parts separately- depending on which group I’m entertaining. Dipping my toes back into masculinity to ensure the comfortability of my peers felt redundant, and with that role, I made it exactly that.
The adjustment for myself and others was in this limbo state where we were getting to know this new version of me. The old saw the loud, flamboyant stereotype of my queerness but understood where my boisterous nature still there; the new got to experience a more complete me with some room for change.
Within my queerness, femininity became amplified. I was sassy, quick mouthed and bold, I felt great in the way I walked- but felt heaviness on my shoulders. There was moment of questioning if this was moulding into a performance. I noticed I began to find it tiresome to match people’s expectation of how they see me vs my expressions. I’m built like a man but too theatrical to act like one. The confusion frustrated me, why doesn’t my body match up to how I feel? Gender and body dysmorphia began to fill my mind.
Once again, I open the self-dialogue that allowed me to pick and choose what I enjoyed in both expressions. In this dissection I realized that it was performativity that exhausted my spirit and I am free to move between the two for it was the energies that I enjoyed embodying. This shift allowed me to welcome back my masculinity as an energy that is almost the default. The default in the sense that I can feel neutral, rested and just existing; whereas the femininity exuded creativity, intrigue and optimism.
Unlearning my trauma with both energies aligned with the notion of the third spirit, where I’m neither one or the other, but both in synergy form. This then seeped into my emotions. I began be a bit more brave with how I present to my family. I feel that I was able to be the ‘man’ they always thought I could be by the way I took charge and dealt with situations. I believe they accepted my femininity in the way I care and make space for everyone. I was both my grandmother/aunt/mother as well a new version of masculinity that allowed room for vulnerability. I no longer looked at masculinity as this discomfort that was solely a duty, but as an energy that demands space for my feminine energy to thrive. I was confident in the way that I existed, becoming the safe space I always wanted for myself and others. As for my feminine, I was able to exude confidence, carry empathy that would enable others to feel seen and be clear in my communication for myself to be heard.
In accepting masculinity and femininity as energies, I no longer felt this block that seemed like gender dysmorphia. Instead, I enjoy the fluidity of my energy and emanating it depending on how I feel. I do feel indifferent about being seen solely as a man, yet contest the label of non-binary as it might require some level of performance, so till then, being the third spirit is something I’ve reconciled with. This is not to say that my concept of gender and self has come to its completion, but for now, it has reached a checkpoint of where I feel the most joy.
Thoughts of A Fijian Guy 