Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

*this is slightly more fleshed out than what I had written in class*

I sit with my friends, laughing and talking as usual. Enjoying our drinks, and each other's company. I finish mine and stride over to the bartender to get another. As I wait for my bright pink cosmopolitain I notice a man eyeing me curiously, and turn away slightly. I continue to look around the bar which is filled with a wonderful assortment of people. There are women who are 6' and over wearing enormous heels, skirts tight over there nonexistant hips, faces made up brightly with wigs perched atop their heads. There are men sitting together, hands on one another's knees and women with short hair playing pool and flirting with one another.

As I walk back to return to my friends I notice other people looking at me in a slightly confused, apraising manner. Then it hits me as to why exactly they're looking at me in this way.

I'm in a gay bar, there's a drag show going on. I'm 6'2" and wearing platform boots and my friend's vinyl dress. They're trying to figure out what I am.

I slide back into the booth with my friends, smiling at this revalation- this could be fun. "Hey you guys, guess what?" I say, and they wait for more. I explain to them what I think is going on, they laugh.

Raine (the six foot goth chick who dressed me up in vinyl for this evenings festivities) inquires, "Does it bother you that they think you may actually be a man in drag?"

I consider this for a moment, "Kind of, but at the same time, I think it's interesting. And besides, in the long run it doesn't really matter."

Throughout the night I keep tabs on what is going on around me, who is looking at me, who seems to have decided that they've "figured out" my sex/sexuality/gender. I play with the situation, depending on who's looking I'll modify my behavior. Sometimes I make sure to wiggle my hips a little more when sauntering up to the bartender and purr "may I have another cosmo, please?" with a wink.

Other times I take long strides over, and stand as though I'm impatient and don't pay attention to any women who are looking at me and glance sideways at the men.

At the end of the night I go back to my apartment, wash off my makeup, peel out of the vinyl dress and wonder why it really mattered so much to figure out what gender/sex or sexuality I really am.