One of the older campers happens to have the same name as me, and we develop a ritual. Every time I see him, I reach out to shake his hand, stifle a giggle and say, Hi Henry, said Henry, to Henry, from Henry!
Performance: The Ubyssey's Gender Issue
Before we even got started on this issue, we were fighting. Our experiences of gender are so different that it’s hard to find a Venn Diagram that we could base our ideas off of. But that’s sort of the whole point, right? We have such different ideas of what our genders mean, so we stuck to the only bit of common ground between all of us: performance.
you know, I've always wanted to be an inanimate object
I am not a philosopher.
The first time I brought my partner to my place, I asked them to wait outside my bedroom — I wanted to make sure that there was nothing inside that I didn’t want them to see.
This whole issue being on the topic of gender and performance made me curious about peoples’ writing. Do we ‘perform’ our genders every time we sit down at the keyboard? In other words, could there be any signs in a person’s writing of what gender they are?
Dysphoria with my body and how I was perceived had come to a head and simply put, pretending to be a woman was no longer a viable option.
We complement each other well. Both of us live without and between gender, weaving our identities like tangled embroidery thread in a colourful drawer.
Our first date was one of endurance. We walked for hours downtown and my shoulder grew tired from the regret of putting so much stuff in my bag in an earlier fit of nerves.