Hi,
I was reading a post by Beverly in the thread about military service. She mentioned being in a bar brawl with jarheads.
This thread is here to ask the question - What is it like to live a rugged male experience such as bar fighting and other kinds of aggressive situations? How did you feel at the time? How do feel about the memory of it?
Just curious. I know some of you sometimes mention past experiences with a kind of grin. This post is not to question anyone's gender identity. It is meant simply to be a record of extra-ordinary stories from women who've lived extra-ordinary lives.
Please tell us your war stories.
Peace,
Rebis
When I realized I didn`t want to be picked on anymore I started fighting for my respect. As I grew I knew I was not right but needed to act like a "punk rock thug" for social survival. It was very tiring to act but it worked. Now I`m glad to have my gaurd down and just be more me. I get some bad looks for being queer even though I dress, act, and live like a strait male, it`s the manerizms that put people off. I`m just not living for them anymore.
I regret having to learn to be like that and not just be me. But I was punished for being me before i even got to school . Then when school started I realized I had a problem. I thought the way out was to always be tough and scary. work construction and fight cops. No thanks I would rather turn my head now and smell the flowers. Angie
Hi Angie,
I'm sorry to hear you had to do that especially while so young. I'm happy to hear you've been able to get past that existence.
I wish you well,
Rebis
I worked some masculine jobs like trailbuilding and carpentry.
While I learned some useful skills, I hated how I was treated.
I was always told to be more man, less girly girl.
I was told that if I wasn't as strong as the others I just wasn't trying hard enough, and that I was lazy or not a hard worker.
I couldn't lift the things they could, I never have been able to.
It's very difficult for me to get any sort of upper body strength.
I've always been rather small and timid.
So it realy hurt, and when I would get frustrated to the point of tears, they would feel sorry for me but then later fire me for some reason or another.
It was always the same story.
I only did those jobs because I needed the money and they paid well.
They were real torture, physically and otherwise.
I hated it.
I hated not being able to express myself.
But it paid well so I put up with it.
I eventually had enough.
I couldn't take it any more.
I broke down.
I had to come out, and I had tostop doing those sorts of things.
That's why I started going to school, I needed to do somthing else.
I couldn't keep doing that the way it was going.
I'm sorry to ramble like that.
Sara