San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)

WHAT IF YOUR RELATIONSH­IP WITH GENDER IS TOXIC?

- BY CITLALLI MENDOZA Mendoza is founder of Mx. Mendoza, an online educationa­l LGBTQ website, and uses the pronouns he/him/his.

In our binary-obsessed culture that socializes us based on our genitals, it can be difficult to distinguis­h which aspects of ourselves are authentic and which are learned through our culture. For many queer and trans “folx,” this process is lifelong.

I decided to make the following list to help highlight some of the red flags I noticed in my relationsh­ip with gender. Here are five questions to ask to determine whether your relationsh­ip with gender is toxic.

• Do you feel responsibl­e for how people perceive you?

Essentiall­y, the way I dressed and expressed myself for decades was based on what I knew was popular. I cared more about fitting in than about being authentic. It was always what my body could tolerate for the sake of appearance­s rather than what it enjoyed. I thought that if someone did not like my appearance, it was up to me to change to meet their standards so that my appearance would not be a distractio­n to getting to know me. For example, if others thought I was overweight, my first response was “How can I lose weight?” rather than “How can I care less about what they think?”

• Do you talk differentl­y about people of another gender in their presence than in their absence?

I was completely socialized to see men as inferior to women, and that was my version of antimachis­ta “feminism.” It was so easy to confirm my beliefs when a man would disappoint a woman or femme in my life and so easy to erase the men who impressed me. I would throw around “Men are trash” and ratas de dos patas casually, not understand­ing how I was enforcing the idea that my own masculinit­y was inherently toxic. Judging men for the conse

quences of the cis-hetero patriarchy is futile and harmful to myself.

Do you credit your accomplish­ments or desired traits to your gender?

Crediting your accomplish­ments to your gender makes it more difficult to perceive yourself as a human who can play with gender as opposed to a gendered human. For example, if I am compassion­ate because I am a girl, do I stop being compassion­ate when I stop being girly? Do I expect everyone who is not girly to be uncompassi­onate? Now my brain has limited who can be perceived as compassion­ate and what restrictio­ns I need to enforce to be perceived as compassion­ate myself. Now I understand being compassion­ate (or smart or hard-working or sensitive ...) has nothing to do with gender.

Who are your idols? Do you admire anyone who does not share your gender or who is not cis?

Who we idolize says a lot about who we are and

what we stand for. If we only look to certain experience­s as worthy of admiration, we limit our perception of what is possible for us. Unfortunat­ely, society has done a great job of limiting transgende­r representa­tion in our media and education as part of enforcing the gender binary. I encourage you to include transgende­r and gender nonconform­ing representa­tion in your life for inspiratio­n about what a healthier relationsh­ip with gender could look like for you.

Do you compare your body to that of an able-bodied, thin, ciswhite magazine-cover celebrity to determine its worth?

Growing up, it was very clear to me that my body was not ideal. I felt unattracti­ve for being overweight, for having darker skin than my Barbies, and for dressing like a “tomboy.” I judged myself rather than the system as if it was my fault that my body did not meet these discrimina­tory standards of beauty. I notice how it is still difficult to disentangl­e myself from the perception of my body by others, but the fact of the matter is that conforming to cis-whiteness does not make one beautiful or more worthy of anything. My body is worthy of love just for existing.

 ?? KRISTIAN CARREON ?? Citlalli Mendoza was born in Tijuana and grew up in San Diego. He worked as a tutor and case manager for an LGBTQ+ nonprofit.
KRISTIAN CARREON Citlalli Mendoza was born in Tijuana and grew up in San Diego. He worked as a tutor and case manager for an LGBTQ+ nonprofit.

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