My sophomore year I took a sociology course titled “Women in Globalization” in an attempt to learn more about the abstract concepts and barriers that are so often associated with gender. Halfway through the semester my professor, *Professor H., offered an extra credit opportunity to the class; All we had to do was break away from heteronormativity for at least three days, record our results and write a report. The emphasis was to keep it as “real” as possible, meaning that we were not allowed to tell anyone the queer behavior we would be exhibiting is for extra credit. At the time I did not fully understand what professor H. meant by “real” and as far I was concerned, it would be an easy and fun 5 points.
When someone is ‘heteronormative’ it essentially means that they practice, or tend to exhibit, the behaviors that are typically expected from someone of the gender which they were assigned to at birth as it fits into society. Any behavior that deviates from these stereotypes is classified as a ‘queer behavior.’ Though I see myself as a progressive thinker (not to say that progressive thinking and being a ‘typical guy’ are mutually exclusive) and tend to appreciate theater, ballet, and chick flicks more than a large amount of guys I know, I cannot deny that my behavior falls under the heteronormative umbrella. I’m straight, love sports, lift weights almost everyday, exhibit mild discomfort in expressing my feelings, and I play Xbox whenever I’m not doing any of the above.
For my extra credit assignment I chose to do something subtle so that once noticed, it’d be easier to pass off as something that I wanted to do on my own, not something for extra credit. For example, a classmate of mine (one of four guys in a class of 16 people) chose to wear fairy wings for a week. Though a good idea (he got full credit), if I had done something similar to that, my fraternity brothers definitely would have known something was up and never would have taken any explanation I gave seriously. A female classmate of mine chose to wear a backwards baseball cap and sweatpants everyday while another opted to wear basketball jerseys.
After much deliberation, I settled on the idea of painting my fingernails. It was subtle enough where not everyone would notice but bold enough where once noticed, would draw an immediate reaction that would be easy for me to observe and record. My friend *Tammi, who was also in the class, was kind enough to not only paint my nails for me but educate me in layering, coating, and proper maintenance of the nails, especially the ever so important, “accent nail.”
DAY 1
The first day wasn’t so bad; I didn’t even remember that my nails were painted until I looked down while writing or someone asked me about them. And upon being questioned about the reasoning behind my nails I would just shrug or nonchalantly claim that I thought “It’d be fun” or “I just felt like it.” Some people (all of them being males) were disturbed while girls who were curious paid me a compliment and didn’t think it was that big of a deal.
DAY 2
After the easy first day I assumed that the weird looks and rude responses I received on day one would end. Early in the morning I realized that I was wrong and hours into the afternoon I found myself irrationally stressed. Some, not all, of my fraternity brothers and teammates refused to talk to or acknowledge me because they were unable to “take me seriously” while a few other people I came into contact with mumbled slurs. Instead of walking around campus or sitting in class with my hands mindlessly relaxed, my hands were constantly clenched into fists to hide the tips of my fingers and my head was almost always down so that I could avoid eye contact with whomever walked by. Whenever I caught myself with my nails exposed I would quickly remove them from sight and frantically check if anyone had seen them. Suddenly, the previously small and insignificant appearance of my nails became something that people were not only judging me on but were using to define me.
DAY 3
By the last day of the experiment (I had made up my mind that I couldn’t handle going an entire week) I felt as paranoid as I ever had in my entire life. Paranoid that people, even those close to me, were continuing to judge me, label me, or calling me slurs under their breath. I was literally counting down the minutes until the experiment ended. I got through the school day without anything major happening and returned to my dorm where I was cornered by my friend, *Brady.
Brady and I had gotten to know each other really well earlier in the year as he and I both possessed a high level of curiosity about the social world and the constructs that exist within it. He didn’t believe that painting my nails was an action carried out for the reasons I provided and demanded that I tell him what was “really going on.” His refusal to believe that I would exhibit such a queer behavior for no significant reason, I believe, was a result of his self-described conservative and somewhat narrow minded environment he was brought up in. Regardless, he’s by far the most open minded intellectual I’ve ever met to ever come from such an upbringing.
I eventually cracked and explained my extra credit assignment to him. Immediately after doing so I felt like the metric ton I had been carrying for the last few days had been relieved from my shoulders. He commended me for carrying out the assignment and asked me about my experiences from the previous two days. He and I talked for a solid hour before I was finally allowed to remove the paint from my nails.
CONCLUSION
I mentioned that I did not understand what professor H. had meant when she used the term “real.” I’m not confident enough to say that I learned everything possible from the experience because even today when I think back to it, another epiphany arises. But here are the two biggest realizations that stick out.
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The pressure gets to you. I’ve always been comfortable with who I am and what I enjoy doing. I enjoy the arts and romantic comedies as much as sports and action films and I’ve never been hesitant to admit it. But this was different, maybe because it was a visible behavior or because one’s taste in movies is less defining to society than cosmetic detailing. Regardless, over a 24 hour span, I became so uncomfortable with myself because of what others thought and how they treated me. I barely paid any mind to the fact that my nails were painted until everyone else did and once that happened, I was consumed by it at almost all hours of the day. When I eventually told Brady what was actually going on, the relief I felt was attributed to the fact that I had someone in my corner who understood me. Someone who no longer judged me for what I was doing. Never have I ever realized the importance of having an ally to support me.
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I will never truly know what it is like. This one example of “queer behavior” I experienced for 3 days will never compare to what those who live outside of the heteronormative boundaries go through. I had an out, at anytime I could’ve broken the experiment and admitted the true reasoning behind what I was doing. Also, it was nothing more than the superficial characteristic of painted nails; one does not gain their identity from painted nails. Those who are discriminated against because of their sexual preference, gender identity, or similar concepts must undergo pressure that I can’t even imagine because they’re being denied the comfort of being themselves.
I always thought of myself as open minded and progressive thinking but this extra credit assignment allowed me to experience society from a different perspective. It was such enlightening experience that possesses a scary underlying fact. No matter what I felt or how victimized I believed myself to be, the experience was never truly real.
*Names have been changed to protect privacy of those invovled.