[SIZE="2"]“The nail that sticks up will be hammered flat” (Japanese saying)
The word “conformity” has been popping up in many disparate posts lately, thanks to a ubiquitous member or two, so I thought I would start a discussion about this intractable concept we seem to revolve around. Can we, as MtF crossdressers, exist without the constant presence of conformity, or do we need a repellant force to be consistently at odds with? I am a male-to-female crossdresser, and that means I’m a nonconformist. The very fact that I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do, i.e. wear the “wrong” clothing, puts me at odds with those who would either seek to conform me or condemn me...
Conformity is NOT my favorite word, since it implies acquiescence, allegiance, obedience, and resignation. Conformity is always there, trying to force me to follow the crowd and obey rules I do not, or cannot, agree with. In my case, the age of consent never comes along, since I will not accommodate myself to an ordinary state. The natural state is just fine, thank you, and it exists as an oasis away from conformity – there’s that word again! I often look around, see conformity at every turn, and wonder how it got there in the first place. Also, who is ultimately responsible for the continuity of ossified ideas? Personally, I blame the unimaginative conformists...
I recently read a post where someone said that “giving in” to a little conformity will allow a person to achieve his or her true potential. According to whom? Even here, in this haven of unconventionality, the spectre of conformity rears it’s head of conventionality – what’s a girl to do? Well, I shan’t be like a normal male and display mindless aggression at every perceived slight – that’s what they, the conformists, would want me to do. I mean, I crossdress because at some time during my adolescence I became disenchanted with masculine characteristics, as outlined by conformity, so I turned away, in a last-ditch effort to save myself from a life of pre-determined expectation. I am conspicuously absent from the life most others lead (or are led by), alone with my thoughts, happy to be on a less-traveled, and less frequented path. Glad to meet you...
I like the word “submission,” even though conformity implies surrender to something you can’t fully get behind. I will not fight, so my contumaciousness is passive rather than aggressive. I confess I enjoy having something to push against, namely conformity in all its many forms, and “skirt” the issue of affinity with a definite flair. The presence of conformity keeps my innocent crossdressing, and all other alternative forms of personal expression and exploration, pushed out of sight for the good of those who strain to see habitual order amongst the chaos. I have met numerous conformist figures, male and female, many of whom I admire for one quality or another, but I do not admire blind adherence to conformity. Since life is short, and we all contemplate how to best spend our brief time on the stage of life, why willingly choose to conform? Shouldn’t we be automatically repelled by any constriction, and live life according to our own principles? Isn’t this what a crossdresser does? I don’t see how a MtF crossdresser can be a conformist, unless an attraction to conformity creates a balance in one’s mind, squaring the circular peg to better fit in your (chosen) square hole...
I mean, I’m certainly NOT an expert on conformity – I’m a visual artist, a person concerned with imagination, artistic license, and alternative sensibilities. As such, I know who the enemy is – I often bump into people who cannot visually identify certain colors, let alone grasp the notion that the 20th century, with its plethora of revolutionary ideas, ever existed. I label these people conformists, and they are not individuals – the latter would be akin to a perversion, something to subjugate, weaken, or eliminate for the ultimate good of society. Needless to say, I do not declare my innate queerness to such an audience, nor do I place my hands on my hips in a gesture of effeminacy, since it will be detected and censured. After all, I want to get home in one piece and don my uniform of nonconformity. Am I being a conformist once-removed by not being more obviously effeminate to all? Perhaps, but, in my mind, I’m surrendering for a good cause, namely my own survival...
I admire strangeness, something that has nothing to do with conformity, unless it is seen as the antithesis of what is accepted and unchallenged – uniqueness, unconventionality, and eccentricity are my standards of nonconformity. If you conform to an accepted standard, you are in deference to it, while the nonconformist has made a conscious difference for the benefit of his or her chosen existence. To an outsider, a MtF crossdresser may seem like a capricious individual whose particularities add up to peculiarity, or even singularity. Not a useful member of society. How can we embrace commonality and dullness when we are openly turning our backs on conformity by dressing this way? On the other hand, if conformity wasn’t there, omnipresent and ominous in its inevitable heaviness, we wouldn’t have something to avoid or escape from. I yearn for separateness from expectation – if I choose to conform, the spirit inside me will either suffer a miscarriage or die completely. I don’t really believe there IS a “spirit,” but I use the term purely for convenience...
I’ve met a lot of conformists on this site, yet we males are all engaged in nonconformist activity by dressing as women. I know this is a true statement because this past weekend I didn’t see one iota of effeminacy on display ANYWHERE. Let me qualify that. If you are an MtF crossdresser, you are effeminate, and the latter flies in the face of conformity – it will ALWAYS be like this, because, even here in this oasis of nonconformity, ideas of conformity are being championed and pushed along to the next generation (or each other). I would add “for better or worse,” but that would be like rounding off the EDGES, and that is a conformist activity. The world you are allowed to see is like a window display of accepted models to emulate, and you are expected to harmonize for the good of all concerned. “When in Rome...” they say, but what if you avoid the entire peninsula?
I have a large male cat that sleeps in a small cardboard box – in doing so he unconsciously conforms to the shape of the box, but he seems comfortable. Are you doing the same thing? I live in a small town comprised mainly of conformists, but I’ve learned to live within this artificial structure and hide my differences – in a way, I have conformed by making myself invisible. That reminds me – recently my neighbor, a Mr. W, died at the age of 83. He was a life-long artist, married, with two children. Locally he was seen as an opinionated curmudgeon, or, begrudgingly, as a very talented, eccentric artisan who NEVER followed the crowd. When my sister and I moved into this house, Mr. W called and invited us over for a visit, one of the few neighbors who reached out to us. He had, by necessity, learned to fit into the box of conformity that society had provided, but he had also miraculously preserved his recalcitrance and endearing oddness. Mr. W showed me his workshops, his gardens, and artwork created with nearly every conceivable medium, all done HIS way with extreme sensitivity. After his death the local paper ran a tribute written by the same conformists he was conspicuously at loggerheads with, ones who will never understand their role in making individuals out of a minority of the populace – nonconformity cannot exist without conformity, so we make strange bedfellows. I do not hate conformity, but it hates me, the nonconformist...
So, what are your thoughts about conformity? Are you a closeted conformist, or a glaringly unrepentant nonconformist? I ASSUME you’re not a 100% conformist, otherwise why would you be here?[/SIZE]