A weekend as a girl (Part eight)

A WEEKEND AS A GIRL (Final part) 

"Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

This review has been all over the place, hasn't it? That's the problem with reviewing an experience like this. How could you possibly put into words, putting yourself in another person's shoes? Remember me telling you that the reason I did it, was because there are some things you can't just learn from reading about it? I wasn't lying. There are things you won't ever get, by simply reading. So imagine the challenge writing about something you can't put into words. So, where has this review been?

It started off as something for my closest friend, so that they could share the experience with me to some extent. Then I posted it on my personal wall on Facebook. People got excited about it, and wanted to read more. I branched out, and touched the Facebook group Sweden Cosplay with it, asking for advise and perspective. Many were kind, but some where not. Very few actually gave me anything to work with, and among the agitators were people that never cared to listen. So I am not going to coddle these people any more, because they are selfish and they are cold. I gave them a chance to help me understand one of the most important issues in the world right now, and I was instead made to feel as though I'd violated all of womankind. So this finish is not for them. This finish is for me, and for all of you who have stayed with me this long. To all of you who have made an effort to try and understand me, who have endured my controversial statements and that chose to if not agree, then at least to listen. Here is the conclusion of my review about a weekend as a girl! Let's discuss it point by point. For every point I discuss, I'm going to use at least one example from the weekend to illustrate.

SEXISM

(I know I JUST addressed sexism in the previous entry. That's why I'm getting it over with)

Sexism isn't an excuse for you to wield your gender like a weapon against the true evil. Sexism is when your gender is the target of insult, and when you are treated as less than yourself because of your gender. What I mean by this, is that you must not assume that your gender is the reason for you being treated in a certain way, unless it is made clear that such is the case. It may sound as though I'm asking everyone to build themselves up to be struck down, but it's really not. It's the first step.

When I was younger, I was picked to be a goalie in soccer over my female friend. I liked being a goalie. I was good at it! Which is saying something, because I've never liked sports. "It's because he's a boy, isn't it?", we got to hear. No. I was actually just better, and it wasn't just practice. It was a game. I do not often toot my own horn, something you know if you've known me for a while, but I was genuinely good at being a goalie. I was asked not to be, because the coach didn't want it to seem like an act of sexism. She got to be a goalie. And in making that choice, our coach was sexist. The intentions were good, but the reality was dirty. That sort of behavior is going to harm the war against sexism! Don't see sexism that isn't there. It will infect the campaign, it will sully it. How do I know that was what the coach was doing? Because I was told. By the coach.

In more recent years, I was playing a video game: League of Legends. My online friend invited some friends of his into Skype and into our party, and we played together. One of these players were a girl, and for whatever reason, people always find a need to apologize to me when they worry that they will pull me down while playing a game. Another of my not that many talents, is video games. I get good fast, because I have a flame the size of an inferno when there's something I genuinely wants to learn! Anyway, for whatever reason, he chose to write in private and tell me "Don't worry. She's good for a girl." Good "for a girl"! I got so mad, but ... I'm not a brave person. I regret it now, but I said nothing. We played the game. We lost (NOT her fault. My head wasn't in the game, and I may have ... accidentally failed to save my friend a couple of times). He apologized in private, and I said I had to go. I haven't played with him since. (If it interests you to know, I HAVE played with her. She added me afterwards.)

I love this picture of me.

I wish I stood in front of a green screen!

This topic has been the base for this whole experiment, trying to gain a grander understanding of the way the world works. I went out there fully expecting to be treated different because of my perceived gender, and to no ones surprise, I was. Sexism is very real, and very intense. And it happens everywhere. All the time! Everyone does it! Women judge men based on their gender. Men judge women. Men judge men. Women judge women. And everything in between.

Some have twisted this review into me saying that sexism isn't so bad. That I liked it. That twist disgusts me, because this review couldn't be further away from that. All I've been saying is that women has something that men doesn't, and that's adoration. And that's not about an issue with how men see women; It's an issue with how women see men. How men see men! Don't twist my words into something they aren't. That I felt beautiful wasn't because I suddenly had boobs and a gorgeous  butt, but because all of a sudden, I felt as though it was alright to consider myself beautiful. People turned their heads, they flirted, and took pictures of me for no other reason than because I was a woman. I felt beautiful, and it was confirmed. How often is my costume complimented as a man? VERY. How often is my body complimented as a man? NEVER. Sure there are men that causes heads to turn, and we have a beauty ideal as well, but that's the hiccup, isn't it? In the same way that men has their "perfect" bodies, women have their "imperfect" ones. Can you even begin to imagine how difficult it is to write this review in a way that does EVERYTHING justice? It can't be done. I'd write my fingers into nubs.

Anyway. I could spend an hour making myself beautiful as a man, choosing the right outfit and walk with the confidence I had as Celty, and I will barely get a fraction of the attention. This is my conclusion for sexism: Life as a girl is a special kind of hell, but there are fires in this hell that keep you warm when it's cold. I'm not going to suddenly pretend that I get the intricate depths of sexism, just because I was a woman for a weekend, but I did get this: When I wrote "jump", a lot of men asked how high (I didn't actually write that, but it makes my point). Chew on that while I move onto the next point.

FIDELITY

Something I learned this weekend, that hasn't been clear to me before, was this: There is a sense of camaraderie between women, on a level that men doesn't have. Pain has united these people, has formed a bond between them that men likely won't share in my lifetime (and when it is shared, I do hope it's out of love and not pain). Perhaps we'll serve some space alien matriarch in the future, but I can't assume that it's going to happen, so I won't argue as though it will. Thing is, when I was spoken to at the convention, there was a sense of ease to the conversations with women. Not just for me, but the way they complimented me, the way they talked to me, it all felt genuine on a level I haven't experienced before.

That's not saying that men don't connect with each other, but it's a little bit different, isn't it?  I have t he good fortune of enjoying some male friends that deviate from the typical male behavior, but me and my friends stand out. We're elephants in almost any room we're in! As  much as I love myself and my friends, this world isn't ours. Women however, have made their own world. The world of the man is a mean one, with a ton of injustices towards the female of the species (It's the title of an awesome song, don't hate me), and they have survived it. Why? They have each other. Not always, of course, for like with any social group, there are outcasts. There are those whose lives have been burned for no real reason, other than them not being who the world expects them to be. Boys can be mean, but there are far more stories about girls turning on their own.

Anyway, this isn't about that. This is about the light within the darkness, it's about the beauty in an otherwise quite ugly world. It's about what I saw this weekend: Women have intimacy. Women have feelings. Women have each other in a way that men don't. And I'm not saying this to yet again batter on the problems among men; This is about something else. This is about being asked how I felt. It's about someone checking on me without me giving any indication of feeling down. This is about me as Celty not having to tell someone that I could use a hug. This is about someone being ready to hug me, without worrying what it might look like. And honestly, as much as this may sound like a joke, there's almost like women have a sense of when someone needs you.

I came to think of this song, when writing all of this.

You either get why, or you don't. I'm just going to leave it here.

Fight those chains, girls!

I'm not going to try and romanticize the life of a woman. I'm not sitting here, writing to all the men to tell you that life as a woman is preferable to that of a man. For every good event, there's something rotten around the corner. There's another expectation to be lived up to, or some injustice within society that is ready to knock you down just as you get up again. I'm not too naive to not know this, and I pray to whoever is watching over us all that no one thinks this review is one big "Get a grip, girls!" statement, because it isn't. Just because I liked one weekend of it, doesn't mean you aren't right to hate what the world is doing to you. One weekend is all it takes for me to see what's missing in a life among men, but it doesn't come anywhere near telling me what it's like to be one of you women! I wish that it did. So badly, I wish that it did! I want to understand, I want to be able to relate, I want to empathize, but no amount of experiments are going to let me. Never fully! Some of you have told me "You don't want to know!", and I actually do. I know it sounds insane, self-destructive, and like I'd be taking a silver spoon out of my mouth, but ... I honestly, genuinely, truly wants to understand.

You're amazing people, and your strength is indescribable, and the best I can do is say "I can't possibly imagine." when you open up. I don't want that role. I want to be there for you, I want to be that someone that understands you, when the rest of the world treats you poorly. I want to be  with you through the bad, and not just the good. And I can't. But I'm as sure as gravity going to try! I have already learned so much, and my life has only just begun!

A new gang in town. They are called "The Helmets" and they fight for love and rainbows. 

THE ALMOST-GIRL CREATED A CHANGED MAN

I'm just going to come out and say it: This weekend killed me. The person that went into it, is not the same person that came out of it. Somewhere along the line, I changed. And I don't want to believe that it was Saturday evening that did it. I just don't want to believe that I'm the sort of person that has to fear for my health before I realize the reality of a situation. I choose not to believe that about myself. That's not saying that it wasn't a titanic moment in my life, that changed the way I think, but that wasn't the biggest change to me that weekend.

This weekend was enriching. Thanks to the men and women of that convention, I was given the opportunity to look at myself. On the outside, and on the inside. And I'm not just talking about checking myself out any time I passed a mirror or a reflecting glass window! I learned to appreciate the things about me that weren't artificial, and the little makeover I had with my eyebrows and so, allowed me to think about what it would take f or me to be truly comfortable with myself. Thanks to this weekend, I'm expecting the upcoming immediate future in my life to entail a couple of changes to how I carry myself, how I treat myself, and perhaps even what I wear.

But that's not what I want you to remember me taking out of this, it's not what's truly important. I found the confidence to try new things: I was hammered harder than ever before for my choice of cosplay, and I persevered. Never before have I wanted to cry over a cosplay, and never before have I felt in danger because of my cosplay. And despite all of this, I loved it. And not just for the attention, because I can get attention as a ton of different cosplay. And it's not about  wanting someone to flirt with me, or wanting someone to find me attractive enough to objectify me.

I found myself this weekend. I found something I love. I felt a kinship unlike anything I've felt my whole life, and I want more of it. I not only felt at home, but I felt significant. And twist it all you want, but it wasn't because I suddenly had ass and breasts. I did a cosplay I've dreamed of doing, but never dared, because I don't want to genderbend Celty. I don't want to make Celty "another man", because she's far too inspirational to be made into something other than what she is. What makes her perfect, is everything coming together and shaping Celty. That's not to say that I wouldn't love meeting a male Celty, but I wanted to be as true to her as I could. And I was. And I loved it! And I was loved for it.

But I'm stringing you along, I'm being intentionally long-winded and I'm sorry about this. Honestly? I loved being a girl. All except for one of my upcoming cosplays are now girls, and not because of attention, or because of the body, or anything like that. I felt whole. Something had been missing in me, and Celty filled that hole. I went into this weekend doing an experiment, and I came out of it with a whole new perspective on life. On myself. I've made amazing new friends, and I've felt bonds strengthen with friends from before. I became someone I've wanted to be but never dared, and I was accepted for it. Sure some of my friends laughed, but I'm glad they are comfortable enough around me to speak their mind, even if it isn't in alignment with my sincerity in wanting this for myself. And this is not me coming out as transsexual, because I'm comfortable with who I am. I do identify myself as Thomas. But something has been missing.

Celty allowed me to experience a side of life I've never explored. A side of myself that's malnourished. I've always been aware of my feminine side, but I've never relaxed it. Not when I'm out with friends, and not when I'm at home. It's a wound that runs deep, because I've always been made fun of over it, and I've spent a lifetime "practicing it away", but it's never gone. Last weekend it didn't have to go away. Last weekend, it had to come forward. Or at least try to, because it was shackled pretty well. By the end of the third day, I was at peace. Not just because it was an experiment well spent, but because at that point, I had chosen to accept a part of myself that I've shunned. That I've been afraid of.

His costume was simply amazing.

When I was little, I was bullied for being girly. I was bullied for behaving so gay. And I was bullied for being skinny. Guess what: I am skinny. I am g-... well, I'm bi. And I am girly! And that's not a bad thing. It's not a shameful thing. To be a girl isn't a bad thing, and if this weekend has taught me anything, it's that. Girls are strong. Girls are inspiring. To be compared to a girl isn't a bad thing. It's a compliment, no matter what tone you say it in!

All that I learned this weekend was too much to put into text, which is why no matter how much I write, I will always feel like there's something more I should've gone into, or something I should've discussed in great detail. I have learned the intricate nuances of sexism on a level I didn't think of before. I don't just know from reading what some of the dangers you face as a woman are. I've seen some of the darkest sides of humanity, the socially "accepted" sides that drive some into depression and brutal self-loathing. But I've also seen wonders. I've seen kindness, and I've seen love. I've seen perversion, and I've seen adoration. I've been idolized by children, and I've been scolded by elderly. I was genuinely worried about being a victim of violence (or worse) at one point, and I was given discount on a related item because I was who I was (Celty plush).

I can't say that this weekend was good, or that it was bad. Saying it was good, would do harm to just how bad it was at times, and saying that it was bad would do serious harm to all the good times I've had, and all the wonderful people I've met. I can only say that I'm glad that it happened, that I don't regret it at all, not a second of it (good or bad) and that I have become something more because of it.

So ... this experiment was created to try and find the differences between being a man at a convention, and a woman. This review is over now, and I hope you picked up on all the points I've made, because I don't think I should have to spell them out for you in a list. If you've read this  far, you've read about the differences, and what  I think of them. But in case you skipped to the end, here's a tl;dr, because I care about you.

Every person on this planet is unique. You can run into a female pervert, or a male saint. Women made me cry, and men I wanted to strike. I've never felt more accepted, but I've also never felt more afraid. I loved the life of a woman, but I fear the dangers of it. Daily, even now when I'm back to being me. You girls be careful, and take care of each other! And I have realized just how much men are suffering. We don't show it, and we might not even know it, but we're in trouble.  The male of the species needs to learn how to love, and not just his future wife or husband and children. Everyone! It's so unmanly show weakness, that we share nothing. Womankind this weekend has inspired me, and I'm very glad to hear (and to tell all of you) that some men have been inspired by me and this blog.

With that said, I'm wrapping this up. I got so much more to say, but it has to end somewhere, and eight parts is plenty to get at least the biggest things off of my chest. If you want to continue communication with me, feel free to add me on Facebook. Know though that I am DONE treating rude people with respect. I tried it, they didn't care. If you write to me and I don't like your tone, don't expect a reply. I'm going to read it, I read everything, and I appreciate any perspective and input you might have, but I'm not going to dignify a rude message with a reply. That doesn't mean I might not learn from it, but I care about myself too much to just take abuse because someone decided that I deserve it.

Now get out here and be amazing. All of you, regardless of gender! Tell friends and family that you love them, tell a stranger, tell your colleagues! It might feel strange to tell a stranger, and they might think you're weirdo, but we need to disarm this non-love atmosphere that the world is suffering from right now. Tell a girl she's pretty, even though she might think you a pervert! Trust me: a compliment lasts far longer than a passing thought about why you were given a compliment. And don't ever hesitate to be kind, because the slightest kindness can mean the world to someone. A few kind words from you, can help mend a wound.

THANK YOU FOR READING!
I am sorry if I at any point during this review offended you.

I LOVE YOU!

A weekend as a girl (Part seven)

A WEEKEND AS A GIRL (Part seven)

There is something in this picture I just can't get enough of. I think it's The Stig.
I think Master Chewie wants a piece of him as well. 

NON-CON AND LIFE AS MUTE

This started off as an experiment to see what life at a convention was like, but already before day one had started, it had become so much more. You may think that my life as a girl for this weekend began with the first human interaction that day. It didn't. It started in the house. By myself. Putting my clothes on. This costume isn't something you just pop on and you get the form I got, even if you have the body that I have. I spent a good hour making sure the catsuit weren't clumpy, I adjusted clothes, I took it off and on again several times. As I was doing this, I realized something: I wasn't doing it for myself. As much as I wanted to feel beautiful, it wasn't me I had in mind when I did this. It was everyone else. I wanted them to look at me and be impressed, I wanted them not just to believe I was a girl, I wanted them to think of me as a beautiful one. Good body, good posture (I did practice posture a lot during the week before Comic Con) and simply being generally appealing. I made attempts at articulating myself without words in front of the mirror, and I even practiced sitting. For them. For  you.

And while I was getting ready to start day one, I had a moment of clarity. I realized that what I was feeling, what I was trying to accomplish, was something I had never felt before. I know that there are men out there that care for their appearance and spend a lot of time picking clothes and getting ready in the morning, but I've never been one of them. All of a sudden, I cared. Because I wanted the world to be impressed by the girl they saw. And in that moment of clarity, I realized what a ton of women must experience on a regular basis. It wasn't about being pretty for me, and it was only partially about being pretty for them. More than anything, I didn't want people to think I looked silly. I didn't want them to point out flaws.

One time when I was Deadpool, a group of us got into talking about cosplay bodies. I casually remarked that I wasn't overly comfortable being Deadpool, but that I'd gotten past much of my anxiety. What I was talking about, was the crotch bulge that a spandex suit makes no effort in hiding. I didn't however make this clear, what part of being Deadpool I was uncomfortable with. A friend of a friend then casually remarked, and I quote: "Well, I think it's cute that your belly is a bit round.". Before that moment, my belly hadn't even been part of the equation when I did cosplay. Now I think about it all the time. I pull it in for photos, and I often pose in angles where my belly doesn't bulge.

Funny thing is, I've always looked upon my belly with a bit of pride. Ever since I was small, I've had problems with weight: And not being overweight. Being underweight! My metabolic system is aggressive, and I've struggled with it. I was bullied for it in school, and the wounds haven't ever fully closed. So imagine my feeling when I was complimented  for it, and felt bad. It's one of the strangest feelings in my life. As much as I should've been happy she remarked upon it, all I could think of was: When she thought I felt awkward about something, she thought it was the belly. So even though she thought it was cute, it was still her immediate trail of thought. And that has stuck! A belly shows. Since then, for the first time in my life, I've tried losing weight. (Not by starving myself or anything like that. Just simply being mindful of it)

What's my point? Where am I going with this? When I put on the suit for Celty, I didn't want people to see my belly. I wanted them to see the rest of me. And if something as twisted as what I had experienced was enough to knock my rather comfortable acceptance of my belly out of balance, sending me twirling to the gutter and starting caring about my weight, what must the life of a girl whose whole life she's been told what a belly should look like, be like? That I stand there, making myself pretty for people whose opinions quite frankly doesn't matter, simply so that they would accept the woman I'm becoming ... that says something.

Anyway, I was out the door as soon as my friend came and we were on our way! I've mentioned that it didn't take more than five minutes before I was the target of stares, and the moment those three men stopped working and put their full attention on me, life was good again. Those three construction workers started my day off with the world, and gave me the greatest confidence boost ever. I went from worried people would see through my disguise immediately, to thinking that I will be able to do this! So thank you, inappropriately staring men! And I know I'm supposed to feel awful about it, but honestly, I couldn't. You can tell me a million times that I'm not supposed to like being looked at, but that's not going to stop me from liking it. It's only going to make me feel bad about it, and that does none of us any good. Me feeling bad that I'm being stared at, only hurts my confidence. It doesn't hurt the men staring at me. It doesn't assist the battle for equality. It isn't a blow against sexism. I can enjoy something, and still know it's wrong.

But this entry isn't about that! It isn't about telling you what you already know is wrong with the world. It's about my experiences, and now I'm going to tell you about them some more!

On our way to the convention, we had a lot of kind people bump into us. A beggar called me "pretty lady", boys fawned, girls frowned, and people of all kinds smiled. Throughout that weekend, a couple of things rang true without fail:

1. Girls never told me when they looked at me and disapproved, but made no effort hiding it was what they thought, and rarely waited until they were out of hearing to comment on me. They simply didn't say anything to my face. Ever. I'm not going to go too deep into that, but I still bring it up, because it's worth thinking about.

2. I can't think of a single time when a man looked at me and made me feel as though he didn't approve of what I was wearing. There were quizzical looks, there were excited looks, there were indifferent looks, and simply smiles at times. As far as I could see, men accepted me. That some of them imagined naughty things, I don't doubt, but in general, if there were judgement among men, they didn't show it.

3. Everyone, everywhere accepted my inability to talk. Some even had a good time with it, a genuinely good time, and didn't make fun of me. No one anywhere made fun of it. It was likely the most solid constant all weekend: People respected my inability to talk. Without fail. Without exception. I worried that I'd be asked to talk at multiple occasions, but didn't matter if I was ordering food, being addressed by security guard or asked question about ticket. I think that's wonderful, and it needs to be noted. As I was ordering food, the staff helped remind each other of what my whiteboard had said. They made sure everything got done right, and many times when they had multiple answer questions, they helped me answer them.

4. Children loved me! Sure some were worried, but that's the very youngest. The ones that can't even stand well. I'm pretty sure it was the cat ears, but there wasn't a single scenario where me and children didn't have a good time together. Didn't matter if they were three or thirteen. And it was indescribably wonderful. In these little people, I never saw fear, disgust, or any of the opposite. There was simply a genuine bliss.

Did you know that in the comics, Honey Lemon's purse is infinite?
If Celty had one of those, she could've kept her head in there.
She would've never lost it! (Except perhaps inside the bag)
Also , super much love to this delightful Honey Lemon cosplayer!

We've been talking about bad people a lot, so let's talk about wonderful people. Because they are far easier to forget than they should be! You can have a hundred good encounters, and then that one idiot comes along and takes it all away.

And I was probably lucky. Saturday evening aside, and a number of sleazy bastards spread out among the days, I had a good  time with the public. Strangers came up to me and asked who I was, asked about where I was going, and such things. No one commented the clothes, except that one woman who wondered if I was cold And without fail, they all respected the writing. People were amazing. And I guess it could've been that me as a man can't fully comprehend just how vicious the world can be to a woman (despite Saturday evening), but in general, men were wonderful. Some whistled after me, but I never read malice in their faces. Some eyes held a hunger I rather not talk about, and there were of course times when I didn't feel safe, but for the most part, I had a good time outside of the convention as well.

And to be perfectly honest, there are times when I as a man don't feel safe outside either. Therefore it was a bit hard at times to try and distinguish when I was afraid because I was perceived as a woman, and when I was afraid simply because I was in a presently bad spot. Men and women alike gets mugged, and granted, being a woman adds a bit of extra risk to the whole thing, and I did constantly feel that risk gnawing at the back of my neck. I've never before noted how long a man was following me before this cosplay, and never been so attentive of when that person was no longer there.

But I said that this would be a bit of a talk about good things, and at the end of the day, I felt respected! I don't know if it's that people don't expect a woman of a violent crime, but I never felt like people wished for me to remove the helmet. When I've been a Stormtrooper, when I've been Deadpool, when I was Rorschach; I have always felt a need to show people my face. To let them know what I look like, to make them feel as though they can identify me. I of course wouldn't harm a fly, but they don't know that. But as Celty, there were smiles. People didn't look as though they expected me to pull a gun at any moment. Was it because of my adorable ears, or was it because of my female body? Or it could be because WHERE IN THE WORLD WOULD I HAVE HIDDEN A WEAPON?! 

All throughout the convention, I had rocks to lean against!
This particular rock was never far away. He made me feel safe!
Thank you, Robin! (and Fluttershy)

Whatever the reason, I felt secure. I didn't just feel like they didn't fear me, though. I felt as though they would protect me. A lot of the time, didn't matter if it was a whistling construction worker or a mother of three. The looks I received most of the time, spoke volumes. And good volumes. Gushy romantic comedy volumes! Sure the occasional woman gave me a strange look, but I barely noticed that outdoors, because they could just as well have been thinking "Another Halloween weirdo", and I chose to assume they didn't judge me for my choice of outfit. Thing is, I felt safe. During daytime, I felt like a VIP. I can't truly explain how I could perceive this, but the atmosphere was kind. It felt as though many of the people I were near, would've taken a swing at anyone doing anything inappropriate.

It reminded me a little of an experiment I saw a while back online, where a Youtube channel orchestrated violence against women at a public location. These actors pretended to be a couple fighting, and some people were so quick to jump in and help the woman when the man got angry. Others didn't intervene, but disgust was plain in their eyes. Then they switched, and the woman was the agitator, getting angry at the man. And people laughed. She hit him, and people laughed. She was brutal, and some even cheered. When talking to these people that had happened to pass by, the people that had seen the first scenario felt as though they had to do something. Some considered calling the police. When then the Youtube team made contact with the people that had witnessed the second scene, where the woman was aggressive, the comments were commonly "He probably deserved it", "He'd probably done something wrong", "Good for her!" and so on.

Let me tell you something about experiments like these. Like the one that Youtube channel had done, and like the one I had done. They will never, EVER be statistically accurate. You won't ever get a clear picture of reality by performing these things, you can only hope that you do. And I think it is very important that I tell you this, that any experiment of this nature, no matter if I'd gone in a Leia slave bikini, or as Celty. No matter if it had been about seeing how people react to violence against women/men, or seeing someone dying (Yes, I've seen a video about someone pretending to get shot by another person, to see how people react. I do not condone that form of experiment). Here's the thing: It COMPLETELY depends on who you encounter.

I could've gone this whole weekend without a single negative experience. The only thing I can say for certain, is that I couldn't have gone this whole weekend without a single positive experience, because the cosplay community (in general) is wonderful. But in those videos, the experiment with the couple could've happened with misogynistic people passing by, and the result of the experiment would've been the reverse. It all depends on who you run into during the experiment, and that makes any experiment vague and risky. An assessment can't ever be completely real, because you won't see every side of life every moment of every day. In the video about the man pretending to be shot by his friend, it had a vicious ending. One of the people they tricked were a policeman, and the prankster pretending to shoot got shot for real! (He survived)

Thing is, I could've gotten shot. Stabbed. Heck, raped, but it's a bit improbable, considering that the truth would've likely had me beaten to an inch of my life instead, or even "freed". I could go my whole life dressed as a woman and never run into a mugger, murderer or rapist, or I can run into one on the first day! Experiments of any sort come with risks. This was a risk I was willing to take. I knew the odds were in my favor, and I played them. And aside from Saturday evening, I was more or less a winner. And even that I can't qualify as a complete loss, because that experience has changed my life. It was a bad experience, but it gave me a perspective that now that I have it, I wouldn't ever want to part with. Saturday evening caused me to evolve!

THE END (of part seven) IS NIGH!

My comrades in the battle against aliens! I could always count on them to save my ass!
Especially Darth Vader tended to gravitate towards me. I think he has a thing for the Celty. MEOW!

I'm running a bit long on this topic, so I'm going to wrap it up: No matter how much people tell me that life as a woman isn't pleasant, I don't have it in me to say anything else than that I enjoyed this weekend. Inside and outside the convention. People were generally kind, and people were protective of me. There were those that weren't, but they were such a small part of the weekend that at the end of the day, they didn't bother me. I wish they didn't exist, and I wish women didn't have to endure them, but I made it past them relatively unscathed. What hurt me the most, aside from a fear of not making it home, was women. And even in that case, for every cruel woman, there were so many wonderful ones!

I know some of you want me to tell everyone reading that life as a woman was scary and  wants me to make it as crystal clear as possible that life as a woman isn't safe, but honestly ... If you have read this far and not gotten that from my text, then you haven't read my text! If you think I'm okay with objectification, then you haven't read my text. If you think I'm telling women to "walk it off", then you haven't read my text! If you've come this far, if you've come to the end of part seven and still think that I don't get why women are afraid, why women are defensive, why women are reserved, then what have you been doing this whole review? You haven't read it.

What you need to get however, is that while I didn't like feeling unsafe, I did like feeling beautiful. I liked being appreciated by the people I passed, no matter if it was because I cosplayed Celty, or because I was sexually appealing. I liked it when people stared at my ass, because they don't do that EVER. I get why it gets tiring for women, why its exhausting to be reduced to your body through much of your life, but I've never had that feeling. And that says something about the society. I've barely had any beauty ideals shoved in my face, I've never been told that I should try and keep a good figure, and I've never had someone look at me and think "Oh, I want that one tonight." It doesn't happen to me. And horrible as it is that it happens to women all the time, the fact that it doesn't happen to me but did now, felt good. TO ME! It's not that I wish for people to objectify me. It's merely that I liked it when I was noticed. Because if you go long enough without feeling appreciated, without feeling like you're noticed, if you go long enough feeling like the world doesn't like the look of you ... then even attention for the wrong reasons, might feel good! Every being in the world has this breaking point, when even bad attention makes you go "At least I get some attention."

And I'm going to put it out there: I was drop dead gorgeous! I was told so. I felt like it. I aspired for it. I know it was a body that wasn't truly mine, and that compliments were based on a false impression, but if I could have, I would've taken myself home every night! Despite all the sorrow, the pain and despite the twisted way that some expressed their interest in me, I felt wanted. I loved myself! I was made to feel loved in a way that none of my male cosplays has ever made me feel.

And I'm not going to apologize for that. I'm not going to accept that someone tells me that what I'm feeling is wrong, just because my body happened to be supporting an unhealthy beauty ideal. Guess what: It's my body. All I did was add a bit of "fat" on my chest and rump. I understand that in this body, I only get to experience a fraction of what the world thinks of womankind, but a fraction is still better than nothing!

Comic Con Gamex 2015 is past, and I loved it. I loved myself. I loved the guests. I loved the con! Tune in tomorrow for the LAST part of the review. I am honestly running out of things to say, and have repeated myself more than once throughout these parts, but that's because there's SO FREAKING MUCH TO PROCESS! Tomorrow however, will be the end. I might do some filler entries later, such as how I created my body, and things like that, but the official review will be over in roughly one day! I might make an entry at some point about the convention itself as well, pros and cons, and the people in it. 

A weekend as a girl (Part six)

A WEEKEND AS A GIRL (Part six)

Bravery is not a function of firepower - Deus Ex

As I sat here sipping soda from my last clean glass, thinking if I should do the dishes instead of writing an entry tonight, I realized that something gnawed at the back of my head. Earlier today, a precious someone remarked upon a nuance of sexism that they realized in my experience, and something I've been meaning to get into as this review nears its end. But the more I thought about it throughout the day, the more it established itself, and by this time, I can't get the topic out of my head. So here it is, at least one day in advance, because this is more important than dishes:

FIFTY NUANCES OF SEXISM

Sexism is the reason I chose to do this experiment in the first place, sexism towards women, and sexism towards men. Try as we might, many of us are sexist, and we keep slipping up even with the most loving of intentions. Prejudice towards a gender is like Malachor V in Star Wars, a planet crackling with the dark side of the Force so intensely that the planet itself corrupts, and with it unstable gravity risks pulling anyone near it in. Quite the elaborate comparison, and I'm sorry if you didn't get it, but hear me out: 

Something I experienced at the convention A LOT, that I haven't addressed barely any, is how people reacted to ME complimenting THEM. And without beating around the bush, I'm going to tell you that never in my life has it been easier and more anxiety-free to compliment another person. Yesterday, I wrote that I called a girl exciting, and she went into high gear talking about her outfit. During my "talk" with this girl, I realized that I never would've dared to say that to her as a man. She could be sporting, she could've loved it and gone on as she did, but she also could have gotten creeped out. I went about calling people gorgeous, sexy, pretty, cute, beautiful and more and I was never met by disgust or worry or a look that asked me what my intentions are.

Don't be jealous, Wonder Woman!

You can have Batman.

Telling someone about something positive I felt about how they looked, their behavior or anything of that sort, has never felt more disarmed. And it freaked me out. What do you think is the most dangerous form of sexism? Is it the person grabbing your ass, or perhaps that guy that wanted you  under the sheets? No. It's the sexism you don't see. It's the sexism you don't consider sexism. It's that subtle thing that you don't know exists. I get why girls are freaked out by some strange man coming up to them and telling them that they look freaking hot, but it has me thinking? Doesn't perverted girls exist? Or do they, and we just don't want to see them? Honestly, perversion isn't gender based. You aren't more likely to be a pervert by being a man, it's not how sexuality works. Sexuality is a separate thing from your gender.

What I'm saying now isn't that girls should stop being freaked out by men giving them compliments, because there's a great deal of sleazy bastards out there, that doesn't have your best interest at heart, and whose mind does naughty things to you at the moment of speaking with you. But I AM telling you that there's something broken in society, something that shouldn't be. There's a damage that scares me more than an ass grab or a shameful remark: The other side of the coin.

There were points during the convention that I reacted to, that I didn't think I would. And the most notable one, is when a girl said I had a hot piece of ass. I smiled, I was flattered of course, and then it hit me like a truck: Why was that okay? How could she say it so casually, and not set off alarms in my head? She wasn't the only one that complimented me that weekend, and wasn't the only girl to check me out. People of all genders looked at me, and a lot of people didn't seem displeased with what they saw. And only men weird me out (even though most of the time, I rather liked that they looked at me. I have gone into this before, and I need to iterate, because I felt super sexy!). I started asking myself the question if it was alright for girls to treat girls in a way that wouldn't be alright for a man to do, and my answer was simple and definite: Yes. Many of the things that girls told me this weekend, a guy wouldn't have been able to say without sounding weird. Many times he would sound outright creepy. Why was that? Because we expect men to be pigs, until proven otherwise. Even men does it! I did it. I got into this suit, fully expecting to be treated bad by men. And I got it. But I also realized that I was getting much of the same treatment from women. I was objectified by women too! Smiling, laughing women. Happy, normal people.

There are many sides to this issue.

And it exists for men and women alike.

Before you read too much into that statement, let me offer you a contrast: It didn't feel the slightest bit weird for me to walk up to a guy, and telling him that he looked fantastic. I even did so at one time to someone that wasn't in cosplay, I just really liked his style. I'm going to be honest, and tell you that it was one of few times that I let sexuality drive a comment of mine, rather than just plain adoration, amazement or appreciation, because I enjoyed the way he looked on multiple levels! (If you know who you are, feel free to message me!) He looked really awkward when I told him! It could be because he didn't expect a cat eared biker to step up to him, but it could also be something deeper. 

Thing is, men aren't good at taking compliments, not generally, because we don't often receive them. It isn't commonplace. If you tell a guy he looks good, he'll do a light chuckle and thank you, or almost thank you in the form of a nervous question: "... Thank you (?)". There are of course those that are appreciative, and that take it in a way that you should, smiling and gratefully. But the thing is, society isn't nice to men. Sure we don't suffer the things that women suffer, THAT IS NOT WHAT I AM SAYING! But just because we aren't objectified like women are, or suffer from as deep problems, that doesn't mean that we can't be in pain, or that we can't have problems. You need to understand that admitting that men have problem, doesn't mean we ignore that women have them. And men have problems! 

A majority of the compliments I got this weekend, was from women. This says some things about our culture: First, that women more readily compliment one another. Second, that men are afraid to compliment women. Third, that we don't expect women to be perverts. And before you go about telling me that you do acknowledge that there are female perverts, I need to tell you that there are also male non-perverts! It's not an excuse to say that you're far more likely to run into a male pervert than a female one either, because that makes you part of the problem. 

I get that it's an act of self-preservation to assume someone to have bad intentions, and after Saturday evening, I get it on a level that's etched in my mind forever. I feared for my safety on a level I never have before. But giving up on mankind is not a solution, as dangerous as it sounds. And I'm not telling women everywhere to stop looking over their shoulders as they walk home, I'm not telling you not to have the emergency number ready, because the world is an ugly place. Bad things happen. But a lot of men wants to love you, wants to care for you, and be kind. And they aren't let in. I know this well, because any time I try to be kind, girls often look at me as if trying to find a hidden agenda. And all I want is to tell you that you look great. I don't want to buy you a drink, I don't want to go to your place, and I don't want you to give me points in some book you keep about what men to date. I just want you to feel good about yourself, I want you to know that I think you look lovely, and I want you to smile. 

Not all men do, I get that, but not everything that a man wants to tell you, is sexually charged. I have never felt more free to compliment a girl, than I did this weekend. And I didn't compliment girls for any hidden agenda. You need to understand that I never intended to tell anyone at all about myself, I initially meant to go in and out of Comic Con Gamex 2015 completely anonymously. Celty would've come and gone without anyone knowing who I was. Then this blog happened. My point though is that I genuinely just wants to tell you that you look amazing, when I do tell you. The reason I didn't tell everyone at the convention this, is because I only have so many pens, and wouldn't have been able to individualize the message as often as I'd have liked. 

At the beginning of the first day, I had a compliment written on the whiteboard, but I erased it. Why? Because it took the punch out of the kindness. If you read it, you will think "She tells everyone that.", but if I walk up to you and write then and there that you look beautiful, you'll embrace it in a whole different way. So rather than numbing the compliment, I chose to warn you about aliens instead. Might not have been what I initially wanted, but it fit with the character. 

They live among us! Warn your friends!

Earlier I mentioned that men are afraid of complimenting women, and I don't want you to fight me on this, because it's true. Perhaps not always, but there's a good reason for why men are afraid. And that's because a lot of the time, it gets awkward, and sometimes we get a look back as though we're thinking what we're going to do to the woman. There's a perceived sexual charge in the compliment, that wasn't supposed to be there. That isn't there. And even the times that it might be there, that it might even be intentional, that doesn't automatically make the person a bad person. If someone finds me sexually appealing, that's not wrong of that person. That person isn't wrong for finding me appealing, and shouldn't be made to feel as though such is the case. There's a good way of telling someone something like this though, and a bad way.

My point in saying that there are subtle nuances of sexism, is this, and it's probably not going to be the most popular statement: It's sexist of a woman to treat my compliment different from if another woman had said it. You might have a good reason for not trusting me, but that doesn't free you from the accusation that it's sexist. You've made a decision based on my gender, rather than me as a person. Women does this frequently, and while I (again) get why, it cripples the fight for equality. And it has to start somewhere. If you can trust that the girl just passing you at the convention, complimenting your ass won't rape you, trust that a boy telling you that you're sexy won't either. 

And I'm not saying that the man is free from blame on this. A lot of the time, a woman appreciates it when someone walks up and gives her a compliment (so long as it's a sensible one), and won't smack you for telling her that she's pretty. The other side of the coin that I talked about just before, is that men expect women to react in a certain way. Sometimes when men walked up to me to compliment me, you could see the worry in their eyes. They were eyes that said "Don't hate me" when they told me I looked great. There was a tone to their voice that sounded as though it would crack. 

And as Celty, I wasn't always any better. I expected men to be bad. One particular case, a man on my first day as Celty walked up to me from across the hallway, and before he even reached me, I had imagined the whole conversation in my head. Granted, this was before I was used to the convention or the body, but I was shocked and ashamed when he simply said "Great cosplay. I love Durarara." And then walked back. I had expected worse. And that's something worth noting: I, a man, expected a man to say something inappropriate. Society's image on the man runs deep. 

I know a lot of people are going to disagree with this post, because I've done a lot of broad claims. I've talked a lot about society, and about male and female behavior, and that's been bold of me, because I'm not a woman. But this blog is about how I experienced things, and how I see the world, and that's not going to change. If I'm wrong, I'm sure a lot of you are going to tell me, and that's good. But the thing is, that I see the world in this way, says something about the world. I'm not just being paranoid either, because I know a lot of men that think like me on this matter, and I have talked to a lot of women that agree with me. I am not new to the gender debate, and I have taken a genuine interest in it for a long time. While I'm not going to pretend that my perspective is facts, it does hold some meaning. 

Me and Wall-E became  the best of friends! We even played together for a bit.

Now this is a friend that's capable of taking out the trash!

WRAPPING UP SEXISM!

There. Sexism solved. Heh. Heh. Heh. I jest. There is a lot of work to be done, but we're making progress. Problem is, there are a few in society that significantly harms life for the many. Rapists, bigots and fanatics won't go away, not ever. It's almost a tradition for humanity to occasionally spit an idiot out into the world, and for as long as they keep coming, there won't ever come a time when we can lower our guard. I don't think women will ever be completely free from the dangers that society puts before them, and that makes me want to cry. It makes me feel powerless, it makes me feel worthless at times, and it makes me sad. But I'm wrong when I feel like that, and I know it. And here's another piece of subtle sexism, that I've grown up with: I'm expected to be able to save womankind. In a  majority of the stories I grew up with, the man saves the woman from danger, and succeeds. The man always succeeded. 

And no, I'm not oblivious to the fact that the woman almost always had to be rescued. It's awful, but it's not my point. THAT is sexism we talk about daily, the damsel in distress issue in fiction. 

Sexism is all around us, but we aren't always ready to acknowledge that it is. During this weekend, I experienced all sorts of sexism, and even after, upon  writing about it, I experienced it from people criticizing the review. I've been told that I shouldn't write about these things, because I'm a man. I've been told that I SHOULD write about these things, because I'm a man. I've been told that I shouldn't have done this experiment at all, because it's going to do my perspective harm, I'm going to think that women are worshiped, because I'm a man and won't ever know what it's like. A lot of the arguments against me, has been about me being a man. 

And while it's true that my perspective won't ever be flawless, that I won't ever truly get what it's like to be a girl, dressing up as a girl and doing this is NOT sexist. If you claim that it is, you don't understand the word sexism. That I say I didn't hate being objectified, isn't sexist. Someone telling me that I'm not allowed to say that, IS! Sexism is the act of reducing someone to their gender, and basing information on that fact rather than them as an individual. Sexism isn't even necessarily something with a sexual charge, or always even with bad intentions.

Regarding intentions however ... Telling a male already at a young age that men save women from evil dragons and burning buildings, positive as it sounds, is going to leave scars. What it's done for me, is made me feel as though I can't ever do enough. Because womankind is in pain, and I'm helpless to stop the pain. I feel insignificant, because stories and movies have raised me to aspire grand heroics, and I can't ever accomplish the heroic, happy ending that the knights in shining armor did. I know that thinking of stories in this light is a bit of a perversion of a story about finding true love and so on, but that's the impact they have left on me. I don't remember the evil queen poisoning Snow White as vividly as the prince being just where he needed to be to make it all better. And failing to make something better, makes me sad.  This is inescapable, and even if saving a woman was switched out with saving a dog, or society, it would still leave a scar. But considering how often it's portraying a man saving a woman, there's an issue. Men need to be portrayed as victims! It's vital for the psyche to learn that men can be victims too, that men are allowed to fail, to be weak.

Recently plucked eyebrows and makeup on me for the first time ever.

Gaze upon the eyes that hid underneath a helmet for three full days.

Two wonderful friends of mine helped prettify me in case I needed to take the helmet off.

They made me want to walk around without helmet, just to see if anyone would compliment me! I felt that pretty.

THE END OF PART SIX!

Let's recline and take a look at the grander picture, because I have something that I want to say that simply has to be said: Women are amazing. I love you. I adore you! You're an enormous source of inspiration, and strength, and I'm going to tell you why I feel the need to say this: In part four, I told you my train story, about those men. I have had a lot of women write to me, telling me how sorry they are to read about it, and being really wonderful. They have given me advise, they have talked about things they've been through, and about life as a woman in general. I've felt so loved, and one of the worst  feeling I've ever felt has turned into something prosperous. I'm being told stories, I'm being told points of view, and I'm being showered in love (even though I've also had people use that story for an ugly use, telling me that because I'm a male, I even then wouldn't be able to appreciate the dangers of the situation, and the life of a woman).

Here's my point though: You, women, are amazing. You grow up to stories where you're saved, where strong men time and time again has to save you. You are forced to suffer through unhealthy expectations and beauty ideals, and when you don't fulfill these, you're often made to feel absolutely awful by large parts of society. There are commercials, movies, comic books, advertisement and even clothes and toys that ask you to be a certain way. You live with a constant, lingering fear of what sort of man this man walking towards you in the evening might be. Is he a bad man? Is he an evil man? Oh good, he wasn't. But will the next one be good? There are those of you that arm yourself by one method or another. One girl told me, next time I cosplay Celty and feel unsafe, to grasp and use my keys  as a weapon in case something goes wrong. IN CASE! Some carry actual weapons, such as mace. 

Where am I getting with this? You're still here. You can still smile. You aren't socially broken. You spend a lifetime enduring all these things, and many of you even manage to joke about some of these things. Some of the strongest people I know in life, are women. Some of the funniest, some of the most inspiring people that I know have grown up under awful conditions, and have become great. I was a girl for a weekend, and I wanted to go and cry at several occasions. Granted, that was by how I was treated by women, but there's THAT as well. You're not only expected by a male dominated society to be in a certain way, but you also struggle with shaming from your own. You wear too few clothes? "You're slutty". You weigh more than a certain amount? "You're ugly". With all of these things going against you, you still wake up in the morning and go out there. Suffering the event at the train on Saturday, made me hesitate to go out again Sunday. And that was one scenario. I can't imagine what this life does to the psyche, but I do know this: You are amazing. If this weekend has taught me anything, if there's one thing I take with me following this experiment, it's this: 

WOMEN ARE INCREDIBLY STRONG! WOMEN ARE AMAZING!

Look upon the embodiment of awesomeness, and revel! 

This weekend taught me this on a level that I can't even put into words. Writing the end of part six is among the most frustrating things I've done, because I can't put in words just how much womankind impresses me. This text, all of it, feels insignificant. I could spent all of this review trying to tell you how I feel, and it wouldn't be enough. With what I experienced Saturday evening, and all that I've seen this weekend, I have developed a respect for women that no amount of reading could have given me. 

To those of you reading this, that says I shouldn't have performed this experiment, you break my heart. Any time you've told me that I shouldn't have done this, I've had THIS in my chest, waiting to burst out. Knowing that your ignorance, your perceived authority in what should and shouldn't be done would've stopped me from learning this if you'd had the power to prevent me from performing the experiment, fills me with sorrow. I hope you've read this far, because despite all that you've told me, despite having made me feel bad, I love you. And this experience has helped me grow!

You're amazing. And I understand that this is technically me reducing you to your gender. This is technically sexism, but I don't care. All the people that have spoken against this experiment, have been women, and despite the mean things you've said, despite some of you making me sad, I love you. Some of you aren't kind, because some of what you've said to me hasn't been kind, and this right here that I'm saying now makes me a sexist, because due to the simple fact that you're a woman: I love you. And I'm not telling you this to guilt you in any way for how you behaved. If you think I'm in the wrong, it's your right to do so. If you think I shouldn't have done this, go ahead.. I'm telling you this, because you deserve to know that you are loved. That not all men are bad. That there are those among us that love you for simply being amazing, and that doesn't hope to get into your pants when we are nice. 

Also, boys ... we need to do something about this "manly" atmosphere we've suffered our whole lives. I dare all of you to tomorrow tell another man that he's beautiful, or cute, or handsome. Anything! Give someone a compliment, because we need to pull out from this funk that we're in. We need to start teaching the world about love, and if we can't love ourselves, how are we ever going to grow? Tell a friend. Tell a stranger. Tell your parent, sibling, son or boyfriend! Just do it. Don't hold back, and don't worry about being thought weird. Change has to start somewhere, so let's start within our own ranks!

Tune in tomorrow when I'm going to talk about ... actually, I'm not sure what. We'll see!

(This review is closing in on the ending, I promise)

A weekend as a girl (Part five)

A WEEKEND AS A GIRL
(Part five)

THE POWER OF WORDS!

I often worry that people do not put enough trust in the power of words. Many does not say that one little thing that might a bad day better, and not because they don't have the time, nor because they don't have the interest to make that  day better. They refrain from saying it, because they often think that something so little, can't really be significant. A single kind word can save a life.

Don't worry, I'm not going to go philosophical on you, but I am going to discuss the power of the spoken or written word. When I walked around as Celty, I didn't speak at all. I virtually never spoke, barely even when I was in private with my friends. It just didn't feel right to the character, but I was constantly spoken to. People gave me compliments, people remarked  upon whatever it might have been behind my back, and when people spoke to me, they could be a fount of words at times. They could talk and talk and talk, even though they knew I wouldn't be able to reply. I found that fascinating, but what I found even more fascinating, was how little was required of me to make them smile.

One of the many scenarios that I remember, was walking up to a cosplayer (or just an extravagant person) and telling her that she looked really exciting, by writing so on my whiteboard. I made a simple gestured with my hands over her dress and her mouth went into high gear! She talked about the dress, about her inspiration, about all sorts of things, and while I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't know half of the things she mentioned, it was a real pleasure to hear her out. The love she'd put in her dress poured out as words through her mouth, and her eyes spoke of unspeakable pride. When she was done, she apologized for having gone on like she did. I wrote 'Thank you for telling me', doodled a smiley face and extended my arms to invite a hug. We hugged, and parted. 

Why am I telling you this? Because she looked and sounded like I made her day! But there's a dark side to words as well, and it is equally potent as the light. A lot of words have double meanings, and I suffered some of that during the weekend. I believe that humanity is kind, but that there are those that stray, and that corrupts. And what many regard as a kindness, isn't really so. Some like being told they have a nice ass, while others can't stand it. Others like being called sexy, and some find it offensive. There's even this thing that being a 'nice guy' is a bad thing, something I got into a discussion about a while back. Some don't take the word cute well, while others do. Words are dangerous things.

When I went to the convention, I encountered all sorts of people, who told me all sorts of things, and I realized just how deluded the world is. One man told me that he'd like to have me under the sheets, and the tone in his voice made him sound as though he gave me the greatest compliment there was. I was not only worthy his attention, I was worthy enough to enter his bedroom. I could laugh at it, because I would've loved to see the look on his face when the suit came off, but in reality, it's not really a laughing matter. 

I couldn't care less about what he said, honestly, and I know that's going to rattle the cage a bit. Thing is, words aren't bad things. Words aren't evil. Words aren't cruel. People are. Intentions are. The reason we sometimes react the way we do to something that is seemingly harmless to someone else, is because of wounds. It's because of scars. The reason some embrace words that others despise, is because these people have either never been hurt by them, or has mended the wound better. Some have a strong enough mind to put painful things behind them, and others struggle with closing their wounds. One does not take presidency over the other, one is not entitled to say what the other one should think, and that is the problem with fixing the mess that is our world: No two people are the same.

He honestly believed it was a compliment. Digest that, because if you don't, we won't ever solve the problem. You can't just call him a bad guy, because in his world, he isn't. To a lot of sensible people, he's a jerk, but not in his mind. And that's where one has to reach. Of course you have the right to kick his ass, but at the end of the day, getting angry at him will bring you only temporary gratification. Instead talk to the person, and try to get through to him. If you attack, he's going to get defensive, because he doesn't  see himself as a bad guy, and will consider himself wrongfully accused. He will see himself as a victim. If you manage to talk to him, and get through to him, you've successfully recruited a soul to the Jedi order, whose continued existence will help bring balance to the galaxy. He might scold a friend of his for something inappropriate, who then might do the same at a later point. Don't battle ignorance with hate. Conquer the universe with love.

And to circle back to compliments, there was one event at the floor that I reacted to and that I think is worth mentioning. I loved being called sexy, except for the times when I didn't. And one time in particular stuck. I passed two guys and one of them looked at me, going "Now SHE is sexy.". Look where I emphasized. It suggests that someone else wasn't. Being sexy in comparison isn't a compliment! It's horrible! And not because I wanted to be sexy by my own merit, or because the other person wasn't (I presume?), but because suddenly, I was used as a measuring stick. How does someone else measure up to me? "On a scale of One to Celty, how sexy is that person?"

On a scale of 1 to Celty, how much do you love conventions?

I'm definitely on Celty levels of loving it!

Now I know some might think I was a bad person right there, in saying that it wasn't horrible because the other person wasn't sexy. Hear me out (because I'm getting worn out by people not paying attention), and I'll explain. Every person in the world is beautiful. Beauty can not be measured, there can't be a contest in beauty, because there's no base value, there's no Jesus of beauty, there's nothing that can be aspired for. You don't have to achieve a certain level of whatever in order to be beautiful. You're simply beautiful.  But do you know what has a value? Sexuality. And there's no escaping that. We like what we like. What needs to happen, isn't that we need to stop making people love the model body. We need to let them know that it's alright to love everyone else.  Men are often 'taught' to  love a certain body, and women are often 'taught' to aspire for a certain body. Sexuality gets buried underneath a sea of expectations. Don't teach your sons not to rape. Teach them to love.

A final word about ... well, words. A lot of people have gotten upset by the way I used the word 'objectified' before. I said that I didn't hate it, and I  get why that can be upsetting. Now this is a word that doesn't bring any good with it. There's nothing to celebrate about being objectified, because there's no compliment to be found in it. And that's just it. It's an irredeemable word! Think about that. You can't twist it into something good, because there's nothing good with being treated like an object. I could've used a word like idolized, I could've used worshiped, I could've use a  plethora of words instead of that specific word. I didn't. Why? Due to the power of words. It is there as a constant reminded that I appreciated a disgusting habit, a primary fault in society, in the beauty ideal. In using that word, I consciously chose not to sugarcoat the reality. I chose not to hide what was really going on. People don't consider it, because they got stuck at the word. THAT is how powerful it is. 

I never said that it's good to be objectified. If that's what you took from that, then you didn't pay attention. You didn't want to listen. You chose to make a villain out of me. Thing is, this is a review about my experience, and not an argument for a woman's place in society. In the grand scheme of things, this blog is inconsequential. I didn't hope to change the world with it, I didn't delude myself into believing that it would ever go anywhere. It's just my thoughts, following my experiment. If you don't like what you're reading, you're free to leave at any time. I'm not going to stop writing about what I've been through, what I've thought and how it impacted me, just because you don't like my side of the story. And yes, this part is directed at those of you who chose to make this review about all the awful things that women suffer. You chose to make it that, but that was never what it was about. So obviously it's not going to match the reality you wish for it to describe.

This review was about one guy, dressing as a girl for one weekend. And talking about it. If you don't get how limited, how delicate such an experiment is, then I understand why you get upset. Because you don't get the difference between a review, and an analysis. This isn't an analysis. I am analyzing, yes, but this is a review.

LET'S TALK ABOUT FRIENDS!

I have taken a lot of heat for much of what I've said in this blog, and people expect me to cover a massive amount more than I am currently doing, Thing is that I can't. If I split hairs and talk about everything that deserves to be talked about, this review won't ever end. Just look how much I've written about so little. So I'm only going to touch at some of those things when the opportunity presents itself, and instead focus on the things I planned on writing. If something comes up, if someone writes to me or some discussion brings up a topic that I think is important to address, then I will do so. Otherwise,  I'm going to proceed according to plan. And in that plan, there's a FRIEND section! 

Thank God for my friends, or whoever is pulling our strings! I have some of the most wonderful people in the world surrounding me. Note though that I'm not trying to diminish YOUR friends, but my world isn't your world. It's the same planet, but we live in different realities. ANYWAY! My point is that I have amazingly supportive friends, wonderful people that helped me make this weekend a reality. I wouldn't have had the courage to do this experiment, if I didn't have my friends nearby. I was so worried that everyone would see through my costume, that I'd be made fun of, that people would batter me for doing this. Before the first day had built up speed, I could've just as well gone home if not for my friends around me. This weekend was very important to me, and not just because it was Comic Con. This experiment is important to me, because I want to understand every part of life so badly! I want to hoard knowledge, and experiences, and I want to know everything that I can. And when you feel  that you've read a discussion or an argument before, you need to take the next step. My next step on the topic of gender issues, was trying the life of a girl out for myself one weekend. But if it weren't for my friends, I never would've dared.

Not just because I was afraid of ridicule, or because I didn't think I'd be able to pull off being a female, but because I'm not blind to reality. I even wanted one of my friends to come home to me in the mornings before the convention, so I didn't have to travel to the convention by myself. The journey home every dark evening was as scary as Cthulhu. In part four, I mentioned that one story, but it's not the only story. Life outside the convention was A LOT more scary than inside. I don't think I even need to say that, but I'm saying it anyway. On the first day, I didn't get more than five minutes away from home before I fell victim to sexism. And this was with my friend at my side. Get that: FIVE MINUTES into the cosplay, I was the victim of sexism. They were literally among the first people we passed. Throughout the convention, friends hugged me spontaneously, and we laughed together at all sorts of things. 

At times when I felt low at the convention, all it took was the arrival of a friend, and I was in the game again. What does this have to do with the experiment? Nothing. I just think it's important that we remember our friends, whatever we're doing. I've written a bunch of stuff that has little to do with the experiment, but that's because I'm trying to help you understand just want sort of environment my weekend took place in. My friends are amazing, wonderful pillars. Any time I was about to fall down because of one thing or another, they were there to pick me up. And not just at the convention. I'm so very secure around my friends, and that sets a mood. It impacts the way I carry myself, it gives me a sense of security that means I don't worry in certain situations that I should've worried in. A lot of tension is disarmed, because of my friends. I'm telling you this, because it's important to understand that it impacts my interpretation at times. I was in situations that weren't always safe for a girl, but I didn't always worry. You have to understand how this impacts the review and experience, 

I can talk day out and day in about how great or how awful things were, but at the end of the day, I had an overwhelming sense of security. That does things to your perception, and I can't overlook it. Even the times when I was sad, or exposed, I could often just look over my shoulder, and I'd be able to see one of my friends at one place or another. A lot of people have complained that I won't be able to give this experiment a fair perspective, and I agree. But it wasn't about creating an unbiased, pure experience. It was about trying to. And I much rather spend the convention among my friends, than stress test my experiment by going all by myself. 

Also, in case it isn't clear ... my friends are awesome. Tune in tomorrow for another post! The review is nearing its end. I think  I'm going to be able to wrap it  up in just two more entries! 

That is one bulky helmet! And those are some amazing people trying to be seen behind it!