Earlier this year, I was working on my lineup of poems for a slam poetry event, and as this was one of my first performances, I was vey nick-picky with my works. I sat at a bar with my partner at the time as we both worked on our own projects. Although, he is no poet, I wanted his honest opinion on what poems would be suitable to perform. I shared a couple, but he seemed disinterested and neutral to all except one. He suddenly jolted in spirits and became adamant on NOT performing a poem called The Nymphs (which can be read at the end of this post). His reasoning fascinated me, and that conversation has not escaped me since. The poem in question is about young sapphic love, and how romantic yet distant it can be due to the upbringings of girls learning to be passive in romantic settings. My ex-partner argued that because this was one of my first big performances, using a lesbian poem might reduce my personhood into a “queer poet”. Part of me was moved by this argument as I did not end up using it, but part of me knew that being branded based on my sexuality was something I was not comfortable with. What began an innocent conversation had me spiral into thoughts on how subconsciously attentive I have been on how I am perceived, because if I was a man I could just be a writer, but because I am a woman I will always be glued next to things to prove my “diversity”, which in tern, is not really being diverse it is simply that men are the norm.
I constantly think of this idea of branding now that I consistently write poems, short stories and other pieces of media for various publications and audiences. From a feministic standpoint, I have noticed that women are given bounds and boxes for their art whilst men are given way more leeway and agency over their field of interest/specialties. For instance, men who write about love rarely are categorised as romance writers, but when women do, they are always reduced to that field. I have had a partially hard time with this, because I don’t want to be reduced, but instead be seen as someone who is young and expanding. I personally see my current writing specialties in fairy-tale story telling, introspective fiction and incorporating gothic and thriller elements into my stories. However, there are various other subjects that I would like to explore if only I was given the courtesy of not being chained to it. I would like to try writing queer stories without being called a lesbian writer. I would like to try out a romance story without being categorised as an unserious romance writer. I would like my fiction not have to constantly be interlinked with my womanhood and personal “branding”, but simply as a snapshot of work for that time. Do I really have to use an alias just to be able to take a step back and allow whatever I make to speak on its own legs.
Funny enough, this trend of being shoved inside boxes is not only done in the artistic field, but I have found myself in a position where I need to brand and advertise my personality in hetero dating settings. This has never occurred when I date women, but as soon as I date men, they need descriptors, aesthetics, interests to associate me to, to describe me – only men have asked if I considered myself a hippie or a hipster and then I would say neither.
“How would you describe yourself then?”
“I don’t know” and then I would end up repeating whatever adjectives were used last to describe me.
From my point of view, you don’t need a headstrong career to consider one’s branding, because as a woman, it is a constant thought. How to style my hair for a meeting, wearing a high-neck shirt for specific social settings, hide tattoos for a friend, using a lower, more direct tone with specific people, pigtails to work for ease… Describe yourself in 5 words! What animal would you be? What would you rate yourself form a 1-10? What hashtags do you fit under? Who are you? Every minute, every day, every sentence, every word; every woman needs their category, and it is crucial to get into the right one if you want to be taken seriously. It is an extremely painful feeling to experience someone reducing you into a word and from then on not consider a single word that comes out of your mouth.
That is why I dress a certain way, use certain words, and unfortunately, rarely mention my queerness. It is almost like someone is trying to reach a shortcut to understand me instead of taking the time to know me. That ex partner I mentioned, he would always ask how I would describe myself and then try to describe me, but not once, did he ever read any of my written works. The brand seemed to be more interesting than the actual woman.
If you made it this far, thank you reading! I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject; have you ever experienced this categorisation before? Below you can find the old poem that was mentioned in today’s blog:
The Nymphs
A butterflies first flight
Quivering wings break wind
Boiling and bubbling up through canals
then flees the tongue shoved throat
that swallows
Hollow, of wings scratched on walls
Coughed up, and tossed out
Like fae, we lay
I cannot take
Therefore
I wait
Braiding playful wet hair
Sunny days on creeks, leading to sea
On shore, I take each strand and twirl
My knuckles brush her neck
Tips drumming along the hair
Leaving goosebumps drops upon her shoulders
Fed to insects before lips
I falter, only when whispers wander
Only when lips brush ears, and echo through veins
Do the nymphs run off into the woods
As veins seek and desire
IV, only through stroke and glance
Eyelashes fluttering on pillow sheets
Kissing butterfly-kisses as the night meets
And we sleep, with wet hair
two damp rag dolls on each side of the bed
Lie and wait for the other to roll
As the tide would rush and embrace
We wait
Like dolls
I don’t take flight
I wait for the tide
