Here is how…disturbed people can be at the slightest “anomaly” in others.
I remember once when my future sister-in-law saw me wear a superhero t-shirt with a waffle-knit long-sleeved “thermal” shirt sticking out of it along my arms. And this apparent anomaly, which she had never seen before on a human woman, made her stop and interrogate me about it. There was no aggression involved, mind you (edit: uh…no, there was actually a little bit of aggression there). There was just this palpable, thoroughly uncomfortable sense of some representative of the larger human collective being confused and somewhat repulsed with my sartorial choices.
Later, she volunteered to arrange my entire bridal shower.
There’d be mani-pedis, a facial, and drinks with the “girls.” With respect to everyone else who was invited (and I should point out here that she was married into the family herself, and later divorced from it in a big huff), I knew down to my bones that I would rather have my skin shredded from my body than go to this event spearheaded by her.
So at the last minute, I said I was sick & cancelled.
Now I had crossed the rubicon from merely being “weird” to being a fucking inhuman monster, causing a social faux pas of immense proportions. This woman went berserk. And I know should have just went. I should have just done it. But…
It’s not what I wanted!!!!!!
It’s what SHE wanted.
Later, some friends arranged an impromptu bridal shower for me involving lots of alcohol and the porn version of the 1966 Batman TV show. That one worked out a lot better for me.
I believe that the human collective as a whole develops these very finely-ground “parameters” of what is “normal” and what isn’t. And there are more developed souls who can get beyond all that and even find those differences somewhat cool & valuable, but they are in the distinct minority and it is often hard to find them.
I write this to just to work out things in my mind, and because I realize just now that the incident with the thermal shirt is a large part of the origin of why I keep my “femme” clothes and “non-femme” clothes in two separate closets; as if this gendered clothing, thrown together, would take on a life of their own (as in a sort of Mary Poppins-like telekinesis) and beat the living crap out of each other.