gender, identity and the cheesecake factory menu
My son's housing application for college lists nine choices for gender.
NINE.
For gender.
Woman was last on the list, Man was not first, and no joke, I had to look up the definition of two of them.
In case you are wondering, the first choice is TransQueer.
There was also just Trans.
TransMan.
TransWoman.
I seriously would not have been surprised if Transformer and Buzz Lightyear were options.
But here is what was interesting.
After your nine choices for gender, it supplied a blank space for you to write in how you identify, in case those nine choices did not best describe how you feel.
And I have been thinking about this for a few weeks.
Because I think this, right here, says a whole lot.
Because gender is not a feeling, right?
It is a fact.
God created them male and female.
Genesis 5:2
It is right there in the Bible.
It also says so on your birth certificate.
Boy or Girl.
It is the first thing we check as soon as we give birth.
We want to know.
Do I have a daughter or son?
Now, what these sons and daughters of ours grow up feeling like...well, that is a horse of a different color.
(I am surprised that horse of a different color was not an option for gender)
Joking aside, I am stuck on this.
This idea of how we feel.
Lord knows, I have felt many things.
But my feelings?
They always come and go.
They never stay the same.
But my gender?
Well, I am 47 years old, and I can say in absolute confidence, that I have always been female.
(Well, there was that one year, after I gave birth to my first born and had no idea who I was anymore, and so in a moment of insanity, I chopped off my long, beautiful hair, and ended up looking like Hillary Swank in Boys Don't Cry, and I suppose my gender might have been up for question to those around me. But that bad hair cut aside, I was born a girl, and I am still a girl, and no doubt, I will die a girl. No matter how I style my hair. No matter how I feel. No matter how many hairs are currently growing out of my chin, ---which by the way... what is that all about anyway?)
Our feelings are not our identity.
Let's all say that out loud together...
Our feelings are not our identity.
Nor is our gender defined by how we feel.
I think applications ought to stick to the only two choices of gender that there are, Male and Female.
And then go ahead and ask how you feel.
Leave a whole bunch of space for that.
It is important to know.
And I actually do mean that.
The way we see ourselves and how we feel about ourselves is hugely important.
Because feelings can be wonderful, but they can also often not be true.
And I am sure we can all admit to buying into a lie or two about who we are, at one point or another.
I know I can.
For years, I felt fat.
And so I would tell you I was fat.
I weighed 80 pounds.
Naked.
In college.
See my point?
And I can't help but wonder, if maybe, we are creating too many options for our children;
that we are creating too many choices to match exactly what they feel, exactly who and what they are attracted to.
Too many choices can be confusing and overwhelming.
Too many choices make us feel like we have to pick something-we have to fit in somewhere--we need to choose one box that we fit neatly into---and we struggle with how we define ourselves.
Fitting in is so important. And we fear we might not.
We fear that maybe...we don't identify at all. With anyone. With anything. And what a frightening place to be in.
Too many choices make it harder to choose.
Just take a look at The Cheesecake Factory menu and you will know what I mean.
And then go ahead and order the street tacos. Super good. And I just saved you hours of reading that novel of a menu.
You know, I grew up no stranger to young men wearing dresses and girls dating girls.
I was the rebel in my family.
My sisters went to all girls Catholic colleges.
Not me.
I went to Homosexual University.
And I have no problem, what so ever, loving these people and wanting the greater good for each of them.
Well, I suppose I was a little resentful of the guy in my freshman dorm at the end of the hall, who not only had cuter dresses than me, but looked better than me, wearing them.
But other than that, nothing but love.
After finding MALE for my son, and checking it off, I played around with the idea of writing in his identity on that blank space.
"BELOVED CHILD OF GOD."
Funny, that no matter how long our lists of how we identify gets, no matter how many choices we throw out there to prove how accepting we are of everyone, beloved child of God never seems to be an option. And yet, at the end of the day, regardless of how any of us might feel about ourselves, isn't that the only truth that matters?
