I want to say the phenomenological perspective is something new that I’ve incorporated into my way of thinking but that wouldn’t be true. Analyzing, overanalyzing, and analyzing the results of what I just analyzed is how my brain thinks about people, life, and most consistently myself. whether I want to or not I think about the human experience and how the memories I have affect me on a daily if not hourly level. how did my memories and experiences cause me to turn out this way? that’s the question that I ask myself and as I read more about the first person experience and the importance of it I simultaneously understand it and don’t. my experience in life seems so mundane when I really sit back and think on them but at the same time because if them I feel like I’m am always at my breaking point. yet I look at people in my life who have experienced so much and they have the ability to seem hopeful for the experiences to come. so my question is what’s our breaking point?

our consciousness exists in the domain of experiences, perception, thought, imagination, emotion, etc. Through these experiences, we form our own personalized way of dealing with what we see. The spectrum that our methods of experience fall onto ranges infinitely. though is there a point on the spectrum where some fall short of adopting the necessary skills to deal with the unknown, not for lack of trying just out of chance? Every day I hyperfixate on the minute details of life for me and everyone around me trying to find something to fix how I am that may not even be there to be found. many of us have shared experiences and memories but the interpretation of them varies from person to person. if I were to think of my question mathematically there is a room with 30 people who just witnessed a traumatic event, of those 30 people use what you know about people vs the situation to determine how many people will be driven to the edge and how many will recover.

I really dont even know if phenomenology can answer my question but it’s propobably my best shot .

Will Overman

It is indeed possible to feel secure with your own body and yet
have insecurities appear just as prominent. I feel that I have come to
recognize this sort of experience in the last couple of years.

For the longest time, I was raised under masculine gender norms and yet also fit many
stereotypically feminine traits. For example, for as many times as I am loud,
competitive, and quick to take charge in a situation, there are others where I
am quiet, vulnerable, and defer to others. In this way, I came to experience
and embody this peculiar paradox of social molding as well as the expectations
within my household. This, combined with my recent discoveries regarding my
gender identity, has fastened for me a sort of double life. And yet, I also
recognize that my body, as Foucault would put it, is “docile”. I have
been molded to be secure and fit within the norms that groups such as school
and family would put me in. Continue reading →

Upon reading Iris Marion Young’s essay, I couldn’t help but scrutinize my own life experiences through a phenomenological lens. It became evident that societal expectations had subtly shaped the way I conducted myself physically, and I began to notice instances where my actions were influenced by gendered stereotypes.

One striking realization was how I had always been somewhat hesitant to engage in certain physical activities considered traditionally masculine. For instance, I never felt entirely comfortable with sports like basketball or baseball, activities I perceived as requiring more “aggressive” or “forceful” movements. I wondered whether this hesitation was rooted in ingrained societal ideas about femininity and masculinity.

Additionally, I reflected on how, at times, I had consciously modified my body language to appear more feminine, whether in the way I walked or sat. This wasn’t necessarily a conscious choice; rather, it seemed almost instinctual, a reflex born from years of exposure to societal norms and gendered expectations. Reading Young’s essay was a catalyst for me to question these behaviors and their underlying causes.

As I continued to contemplate the impact of gendered expectations on my bodily comportment, I realized that this was not just about my physical actions but extended to my overall sense of self. I had unconsciously internalized certain stereotypes about what it meant to be a woman, and these stereotypes had, to some extent, influenced how I expressed myself in various aspects of life.

However, what struck me most was the idea of authenticity. Young’s essay illuminated the importance of being true to oneself and not conforming to societal expectations that stifled one’s genuine experiences. I began to see that embracing my authentic self, both in terms of physicality and identity, was a crucial step towards personal growth and fulfillment.

“My Personal Reflections” were not limited to introspection alone; they also prompted a call to action. I realized that understanding the subtle ways in which gendered expectations influence our lives is just the first step. The next step is to actively challenge these norms, both personally and as part of a broader societal effort.

I decided to explore activities and sports that I had previously shied away from, not because they were inherently masculine or feminine but because they interested me. I also engaged in discussions about gender and identity with friends and family, aiming to raise awareness and foster more open conversations on these topics.

Through self-reflection and a commitment to authenticity, I found the courage to challenge these ingrained stereotypes. The journey toward authenticity is ongoing, but I am now more conscious of the choices I make and the influence of societal norms on my experiences. It’s a journey of self-discovery and empowerment, one that phenomenology continues to inspire in individuals willing to question, explore, and live authentically.

One quote that I really resonated with was in “Throwing like a Girl,” by Iris Marion Young. It says, “The female person who enacts the existence of women in patriarchal society must therefore live a contradiction: as human she is a free subject who participates in transcendence, but her situation as a woman denies her that subjectivity and transcendence.” When I first read that part, I immediately thought of the menstrual cycle and how living against it impacts us mentally, physically, and spiritually. When we bleed, we are forced to slow down, to rest, to feel, to isolate, and to reflect.

For me, I also feel more connected to nature, my intuition, and psychic abilities. So, when I get my period, I usually look forward to it because I love taking that time to care for myself. I always take lots of baths, eat good food, and sleep a LOT. In this time is where I have had most of my revelations and gotten to the truth of what I was feeling. When I bleed, I also feel what I had been suppressing all month long. In addition to this, I am extremely sensitive, and not just emotionally. I personally have sensory issues in general, so when I’m bleeding my tolerance becomes very low. Unless there is a way for me to regulate myself, I will likely get angry, and this is the case for a lot (if not most) of us.

When we do not have the means to rest and take care of ourselves, whether that be money, time, or resources, we are denied our subjectivity and transcendence. The enormous growth and wisdom we gain is often stunted because we are not in an environment that is gentle and gives us the time to rest and reflect. The biological cycle of someone with a uterus is roughly 28 days; however, we are still expected to feel and perform the same every day. Over this cycle, we actually go through four phases, and I like to think of them as the seasons: winter (menstruation), spring (follicular phase), summer (ovulation), and fall (luteal phase).

Thinking about my cycle this way helped me conceptualize my nature more. I got this idea from a book I read that changed everything for me, it’s called “Red Moon” by Miranda Gray, and it talks about the mental, physical, spiritual, creative, and sexual aspects of the menstrual cycle. After reading this book, I feel so much more in touch with my body, my womb, nature, and other people with this cycle. Now when I can, I am able to slightly adjust my schedule, so I work with my nature. And although this is great, I am ultimately restricted to patriarchal society.

I’m a trans man. I’m pretty open about this, largely because I’ve found interacting with anyone who thinks less of me for being transgender a waste of time anyways. And yet in any social scenario where I am misgendered- or even feel that I may be- I find myself obsessing over whether I “pass” for a cisgender guy, analyzing everything from my sitting position, to how I walk, to my vocal characteristics. Am I absentmindedly crossing my legs? Am I swaying my hips or portraying timid, feminine-coded movements? Is my voice going up too high in excitement?- These questions become semi-constant intrusions made all the more irritating by the fact that I genuinely don’t care. Or at least, I wouldn’t in an ideal world. For myself and several of my other transgender friends, the social aspect of dysphoria can particularly be difficult to manage. Even if you are feeling comfortable in your own skin, any stranger or acquaintance misgendering you can take away any confidence in an instant, with seemingly no set criteria for their gendered perceptions. Working in retail can especially give this effect- I’ve had experiences where one customer would call me “babygirl” while the next in line would address me as “sir”.

For people that don’t entirely fit in a clear gender-conforming box, we often have to over-rely on performances that feel stereotypically masculine. I’ve made a habit of manspreading when physically possible and not obstructing other’s seating. I often focus on having a confident, wide stride, especially since I’m not as tall as most cis men. In many ways, I’ve tried to unlearn gender norms that were thrust on me because I grew up as a girl. And yet, I resent having to do so- by reversing the stereotypes I adhere to, I’m just placing myself in a different state of immanence and enforcing traditional gender norms. While being seen as masculine is euphoric, performing stereotypical heterosexual masculinity can be exhausting. Sometimes, you simply want to exist. And because I am lucky enough to have mainly transgender and queer friends, I am able to have a space for existing without the burden of outside judgement. But being able to transcend beyond the roles placed early on in life and the roles you are forced to conform to is a continual process, and one that may take a lifetime. Even so, I find it a journey worth taking, especially if my experiences allow me to help others around me. The more of us are able to think critically about gendered behaviors, the more these expectations can be challenged and dismantled.

Eyes are weird. Most of us are (usually) born with two; nestled gently on either side of our noses, shaped in all kinds of ways, colors, etc. Millions of little cells working in tandem to handle the brightness, making sense of the the light waves, determining sharpness. The very complexness of it demands an entire section of our brain to develop over time! But we see things, eventually. Some of us more than others.

I wanted, at first, to write about hands, and how they guide us through space, making sense of the world in a odd way. We learn lessons (physically) about the world through touch, translating little neurons across complex wiring into feelings about something that has happened to us. Or about smelling, where the small cilia of the nose work, along those same complex wirings to give us information about the pleasant unpleasantries that come with life. But the eyes have come to be more special in my mind. They see what is meant to be experienced and relay it back two ways: the mind to be processed and the body to be judged.

I think before this class, I could not understand what Phenomenology meant. In my mind then, thoughts came first to determine the self; the body a separate process after thoughts have developed. Its then that we find consciousness! An old me might have said. Even as I sit to write this blog now, I still find myself not fully sure. But of all the many neurons working (mostly) the same across many different people, what determines the ultimate difference in experiences? Some might suggest another sophisticated science; to which I may not fully disagree. I’m saying here, that now I understand that there is much more that we learn from our bodied experiences than we give them credit for.

This course of thought, of realizing, of seeing the unseen, is a process I have been experiencing for many years now. Of becoming aware of things, of myself, of the ways my race and privileges that have mapped my path forward into a kaleidoscope of experiences. I am grateful for it, and I hope, as you age you will become grateful for this process too. This, of course, depends on how you see it.

I am constantly policing my body. It’s as if I’m being watched at all times. I’ve been taught to hate my body, even in private. I’ve spent my whole life retransforming my face and my hair and my personality to fit some ideal. When I was younger and getting into hardcore and metal, I began changing my appearance, as one does. I wore intense winged eyeliner every day and never left the house without a band shirt on. Heavy music scenes are dominated by white men and the only other representation I saw was from cis white women. Being brown and queer in that space, I felt uninvited. The way I inserted myself was by constantly presenting myself as belonging. I felt like I had something to prove. Without my gear, I was invisible and my passion for music was unconvincing. I was dressing the way I thought I was supposed to in order to seek that validation. My self-esteem was so reliant on the way I presented myself because I attached so much meaning to my appearance. 

 It was even more confusing to feel so unaccepted and alienated from my own community for being a “black sheep.” I was being ridiculed by my family and judged by strangers who didn’t think I belonged in the scene. How many times can a teenager be forced to “name 3 songs” by creepy middle aged men? The insecurity and trauma of being a queer POC in the heavy music scene made it necessary for me to police my clothes and my appearance every single day to ensure that I was conforming enough. 

Slowly that started getting exhausting to keep up with. For most people who dress alternatively, it feels liberating. For me, it often felt forced. It felt like a loss of self when I slowly transitioned away from that constant performance. It was hard and weird to detach from that. I had aligned my worth to my appearance after fighting so long to prove to myself that I belonged. I had to relearn my passion for music while discovering what it meant to just exist in my body. I still enjoy dressing the part and I will never stop flaunting my collection of band tees, but I no longer feel such pressure to attach my identity and interests to my appearance. 

And even as I am just existing, my identities still cause me to police my body. A while ago I was perusing some street shops when I decided it would be funny to walk into a store I had previously had a weird experience in. The first time I went there the owner followed me and my friend around and surveilled us to the point where we felt too uncomfortable to stay. So this time I wanted to see if it was the same. There was an old white guy in there whose eyes would not stop tracing me. My brain was racing trying to figure out why he was staring in disgust. Is he being creepy? Is it because I’m a brown feminine presenting person in a Bad Brains shirt? My intersecting identities made it impossible for me to decipher why this man was making me feel so uncomfortable. My prior experiences with these types of stares instantly brought me fear and confusion and anxiety. 

For people like me, it’s hard to navigate self-discovery in a space that doesn’t always accept you. It’s even harder when you do find yourself and still have to reckon with the fear of safety because of it. Finding good representation of queer folk and POC making waves in hardcore was a game changer for me. Seeing myself in them affirmed my new embodiment. All I know is that I have nothing to prove and my body is not an exhibit to be scrutinized.