In classical mechanics, the two-body problem assumes the two bodies under review are perfect spheres that never collide and that no outside forces affect their interaction. It underpins virtually every law and theory in physics. An unshakable pillar of scientific concept.

And yet, phenomenologically, it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Race is arguably the most malleable, in-flux idea ever created. However, it is so deeply ingrained into every part of society that it is basically inextricable from human existence and our modern world. Every group has stereotypes forced onto them. Racism, misogyny, homophobia, ableism- all of it and more infect every institution. Discrimination can even stack on top of each other (intersectionality). Contradictions abound, and my recent summer femme transcendence has made those discrepancies hit like a Mack truck.

Being a Black man in America is one of the most confining experiences of all time. The expectation is for us to be violent, “ghetto”, hypersexual, foolish, and criminal. Hilarious, yet stupid. Lusted after, yet predatory. Athletically superior, but only because of genetics. “Fulfilling” these stereotypes is held up as an example of truth. It’s expected. This is what black men are “supposed” to be.

Subverting them, though, is the more inflammatory choice.

After moving out of my mother’s home, I spent the entire summer completely overhauling my wardrobe. Due to her homophobia, I dressed masculine for the entirety of my freshman year, and I despised every second of it. Needless to say, experiencing gender euphoria is a beautiful thing. The number of compliments I received dressing femme was so overwhelming that I struggled for months to figure out the best way to respond, because I had gone my whole life without that kind of attention. The way people treated me was starkly different too. Expressing my gender the way I was “expected” to, that being a masculine black man, made me nearly invisible. Nobody batted an eye because it was just the way things should’ve been. However, when I began dressing feminine, everything changed.

People would take every chance to compliment me and get to know me. Complete strangers would tell me that they loved my outfit as I walked by. Men, who never gave me any romantic time of day before, were suddenly interested in getting to know me better (I will never forget the first time a man called me “mama”). Still, nothing changed more than how I was treated in a more gendered way. Presenting feminine made people, especially men, more polite and gentle towards me. Doors were held open, feminine descriptors were used (beautiful, pretty, etc.), and most affirmingly, my gender/pronouns started to be explicitly asked for/verified. I loved it, but it also made me feel… weird. Why was I previously deemed someone to treat coldly? Why did I have to present so differently to receive consideration? And why the hell is it that now the white people are disarmed at the sight of me, while the dirtiest looks are coming from my own people?

As you can guess, the answers to those questions were very layered. The class readings of Young & Alcoff were, in fact, very helpful in that regard. Young’s dissection of the male and female socialization and societal expectations was especially illuminating. Spending the vast majority of my life as a masculine-presenting black man, I was raised to fulfill the expectations society expected of my gender and race. I was told to take up space, hold in my feelings (many a “be a man” and “stop crying”), play sports, adopt “manly” interests/hobbies, and never, ever, do anything “girly”. Dolls were out of the question, even though I secretly loved playing with my sisters’ Barbie Dreamhouse. Touching cosmetics earned a beatdown. Affection was looked down upon, with my go-to way of hugging being replaced by a dap. Even as a child, I knew I wasn’t living up to these expectations, nor did I want to. They were forced upon me by my friends, family, and, most extremely, my peers. However, this way of socialization, in some ways unique to my culture, greatly affects the way I subconsciously occupy space. Simultaneously, it’s also something that I’m actively unlearning.

This journey of unlearning has made me realize just how fluid the concept of gender really is, at least in a personal way. I’ve been in queer spaces since middle school, so it wasn’t a matter of ignorance. Rather, I didn’t realize how fluid my gender identity really is (#genderqueer questioning). As I’ve been unweaving my forced masculinity, I’ve been returning to the femininity that I displayed in my early childhood before it was ripped away. I have vivid memories of having a more feminine voice, walking with a natural strut, wearing my mother and sisters’ cosmetics in secret, hugging everyone I liked, and wanting to wear their pretty outfits and jewelry. Now, I do just that. My hip-walk is back, I wear lip gloss and mascara very often, I have 4 piercings with more to come, and I exclusively wear feminine clothes. Anyone who hears my voice immediately clocks me as gay, like that one Lesley Stahl clip. I’ve also been working to make my body fit a more “ideal” femme gay build, as stupid and problematic as that sounds (which is why it’s in quotations).

But what, really, makes all of these behaviors so gendered? As a child, the way I interacted with the world was just a part of who I was. The way I walked and talked came naturally; it was my most comfortable state. My interests were just what I liked. I loved Barbie dolls just as much as I loved my Batman action figures. Physical touch was and still is my favorite way to show and receive. It wasn’t until I was told that these things weren’t what boys “should” like that I started feeling the pressure to change. And it wasn’t just the men; it was the women too.

Patriarchy is such an evil, evil thing. It’s also incredibly layered, especially when it intersects with race. Patriarchy is one of the core tools of white supremacy, but every minority adopts the belief too. The expectations of black masculinity are even more extreme than white masculinity due to the black man’s lack of access to the benefits of white supremacist patriarchy. It calls back to what we talked about in class with afropessimism, though I’d more so call this afrorealism: we can never be good enough. The expectation of black men is for them to be hypermasculine and tough, yet those perceived qualities do not give them access to the higher floor that white men have, and it never will. Therefore, patriarchy and masculinity in the black community are enforced, often violently, through religion, the family, and your peers. It’s so deeply ingrained that in most national polls, Black respondents still trail 10-15% behind their white counterparts when it comes to acceptance of homosexuality. Unfortunately, most queer black people don’t need a poll to know that.

So, when I look at my life, what do I see? I see a paradox. I move through life perceived as a black man, weighed down by all the assumptions about my masculinity, sexuality, intelligence, and much more. At the same time, I subvert many of those assumptions almost exclusively because of my gender expression.

I have two bodies. And that’s a problem.