Diary

saturday 3rd November 2007
Yesterday's entry was not the one I meant to write.

I had wanted to try to describe the process of change in day to day detail.

I had started to write:
"Friday Oct 26th: Went for co-counselling with my dear friend Peggy.
It was lunchtime. I took two buses. I wore a skirt there and back and felt no anxiety at all."

And stopped. And deleted it.
because that sentence, which described what had felt like such a breakthrough at the time, suddenly seemed trivial and ridiculous.

So I never published it.

And thinking about it all later last night, I realised that that is precisely the kind of self-censorship I have been inflicting on myself for years.

It's a kind of stubborn refusal - born out of self-hatred and shame - a stubborn refusal to give full weight to the kind of difficulties I have been facing.

And I need to remind myself very firmly: this is NOT insignificant.

Clothes are an incredibly important weapon in the armoury of means society uses against ALL of us to control who we are.

I think of the dreadful uniform imposed on me at school.
A black suit, of the kind that is held up, still, as a model of a successful dress code for school students.

Of the uniform soldiers are made to wear. The dress codes imposed on office workers.

And the deep miseries I have suffered because I have felt unable to wear the clothes i wanted to wear and so be the person I deep down felt myself to be.

These matter.

And so I repeat:

Friday Oct 26th: Went for co-counselling with my dear friend Peggy.
It was lunchtime. I took two buses. I wore a skirt there and back and felt no anxiety at all.