And then I wrote forever and wondered if any of it came out right when I was done.

I have been a mechanic for a little over 5 months. There have been things that I have loved and hated in bright and severe extremes. I think my favorite thing has been earning the right to define myself. When I started studying to be an aircraft mechanic, I tried to distance myself from feminist labels and all other stereotypes regarding women in industry. I mean, who really wants to represent all of womankind as they are studying for exams and really have no idea if they have what it takes to succeed? No thanks. Womankind doesn't need to feel the weight of my failure.

Moreover, I have never really identified as particularly feminine. I didn't do girl scouts. I hate dressing up. I wasn't boy crazy at any point in my life. Neither was I the tom boy who did all of the sports and was super tough. I was... just me. Quiet. Artistic. Curious. Creative. Academic. Always watching the sky. Most of my life, the definitions of feminine that I have received have left me wondering how long I have until everyone figures out that I am not following the rules. Who am I to speak for womankind? I am pretty sure that if it came to a vote, I would not be elected as a representative.

I stopped trying to be 'girly' a long time ago. I decided, instead, to be the healthiest version of myself as a human being as I could. I wanted to see where that would take me. There is a lot more agreement about what it means to be a healthy person whereas being a man or woman is often colored by caricatured cartoon versions of humanity. I mean really? All women are emotionally unstable and all men are emotionless. Women must be up on all the latest fashion and men are hopelessly unfashionable. Women must travel in giggling groups everywhere and men must love to be alone. Women must be kind and gentle but men must be strong and in control. Right. All I know is that I know lots of people of both genders who fit any given one of those descriptors and some of those are healthy and some aren't. Some of those leave both men and women at opposite ends of a spectrum when the middle is the most healthy, but apparently men and women are not capable of being healthy people. It's not in their nature. Anyway, I digress.

My resistance towards representing women or feminism was fueled largely by a desire to just be myself as I defined and discovered myself to be. It is hard to do that with so many people telling you how to be a woman, how to not be a man, how to...etc. So I threw the lot out the window. I began ignoring every stereotype because they simply were not useful. No one I knew fit the stereotype perfectly, I even less than most. Stereotypes began to look more like unrealistic expectations which when exerted were wrong at best and cruel at worst. So, ironically, I ran from representing women and feminism as well as all of the unfeministic stereotypes so that I could have the freedom to be a woman my own way. In the end, that lead me straight back to the doorstep of feminism. My femaleness is subject to my humanity. And I think that is exactly how feminism started: with a desire to be human before there is any commentary on people's perceptions of what it means to be a woman (or a man).

I cannot be more woman than human. If I am not a healthy human first and foremost, I have failed to be a good woman. If I forget that men are also human like me, I commit the same sin that so many have committed against women. If I forget my own humanity, all I am left with to tell me how to succeed at being a woman is a lot of cartoon versions of women. There are many, but none of them fit quite right. I am not as demure or helpless as many people's good Christian woman. Neither am I as sexy or slinky as the media tells me I need to be. Nor am I glamorous or tough and perfectly independent like the women on the cover of so many magazines. ...I'm just me. And I hope that's enough.

I have been told for a large part of my life that I resist definitions and labels because it is my personality, my hippie upbringing, my over active independence etc. I have known this to be wrong but never had words for it. My reluctance to submit to definition stems from the fact that I have felt myself growing more and more into myself... the me that is there but not always expressed. To take on descriptors that people so readily hand out is to stop the discovering process and just assume that I don't need to keep growing. Labels and stereotypes make me uncomfortable because they are expectations that I am likely to fail to meet.

I think that many of  us are disenchanted with the stereotyped options handed us. But the rub comes when we still perpetuate these expectations. I order rum, my boyfriend orders a pear brandy sidecar...the waitress hands me the girly sidecar and my boyfriend the rum without hesitation and I am reminded of just one more way that I don't belong in whatever club decided what it means to be a woman and what it means to be a man. I am lucky though in that I have plenty of friends who understand and a family who has never told me that I cannot be whoever I want to be. That and I have chosen an industry where people do not doubt me as much as they used to. I can say, "I'm going to build a rocking chair." or "I'm going to bake a cake" or that I'm going to do both of those things and people are not surprised. It still gets cumbersome though in that, occasionally I meet people who seem to actually believe in these stereotypes and then it is hard not to get defensive, not to feel like my whole way of life is threatened as if their belief is going to make these stereotypes more true and more real and more binding.

It is hard because sometimes my right to define myself collides with another person's right to define themselves and we generalize too much, ask too few questions, and defend and defend and defend because we are so very used to defending and being attacked and being told that we just aren't quite right or enough or good. It is hard to just believe that it really is ok for people to totally misunderstand you. I want so badly to be understood. Many people just want to be understood. But more often than not, people do not have the time and energy to make it through the misinformation, the clumsy knowing, and into the understanding. It hurts in some way when people you thought understood get it wrong. I always expect to get used to that feeling, expect to stop feeling the hurt. And yet, I am no better at knowing and understanding the people around me.

It is all very dangerous. This living in a world together with sharp corners and blood hidden beneath such fragile skin. But I am coming to terms with this. Slowly. As I become a mechanic. As I look to what I want to be after I am a mechanic. As I earn the right to define myself and the panic subsides and I get to just be. Then I get to turn back to the past and learn that apparently, I am some generation of a feminist and I am ok with that descriptor now. I have grown up and into it. It was heavy with all of these unspoken expectations that I felt. But now, I am just me. And now, I am a little more equipped to make room for people around me to be themselves because I know myself and do not have to defend and defend the fragile pieces which I did not previously understand.