The Feminine Critique

Last Friday I went to the nail salon and got myself some long, pale pink acrylic nails. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been in a nail salon. Honestly, they intimidate me. They represent a degree of femininity that I usually consider out of reach.

Growing up, I felt like girls got pushed into one of two boxes. They were either pretty, delicate, and socially minded, or they were tough, sporty, and individualistic. I picked the tough category. I was already taller than most girls, athletic, and had been bred with a ‘tears don’t solve anything mentality’. Even though I wasn’t completely sure of this identity, it also didn’t feel like there were many opportunities to combine the two categories or even to step outside of them completely. And when you’re younger, you sometimes feel like you have to commit to a category because that is what everyone has come to expect from you.

This identity worked for me for the most part. I leaned into being callous, strong, and ambitious. I engaged in traditionally feminine behavior only as much as it would feed my other categories of self. I recognized that appearances mattered but I aimed for hard, professional, or sexy, rather than cute and pretty. 

But certain things always felt out of reach, and the older I got, the more I found myself feeling resentful and jealous of ‘other types’ of girls. I felt I wasn’t allowed to be delicate, or cute, or vulnerable . Those things were outside my identity box. At the time, I didn’t realize this box was of my own making.

Every time I ventured outside, it seemed I was shut down. If I dressed in dreamier, or pastel clothes, I was met with scorn. If I got overwhelmed and needed to cry, I would hide for fear people would think I was weak or incompetent. And I would do the same to others. I would deride other girls for being too dainty and would scoff at them when they would cry over seemingly small issues. 

Eventually I met women who showed me that you can combine the categories. They were intensely athletic but still showed their vulnerability. Or they had a cute aesthetic but were wicked smart. Whatever the combination, I slowly realized that I can step outside my box and still be respected.

This sort of thinking seems common place now. Messaging around gender norms, and gender specific traits is growing ever more accepting. However, even though society is trying to change its expectations of gender, it can still present an internal battle.

I’ve gotten more and more comfortable with myself and my personal brand of femininity over the years but certain things are still a struggle. I told myself over and over for years that certain things just weren’t me. Getting my nails done being among them.

The whole experience of going to the nail salon feels like a test. It feels like the ultimate judgement in femininity to me. Don’t worry, I realize this is all made up inside my head, but it’s a super intimidating exercise for me to engage in. Nails, especially acrylics, have always been associated in my mind with a type of woman that I couldn’t ever even hope to be no matter the mental/physical effort I put into it. I envision women with these types of nails as daintier but with social skills that allowed them to get away with it. The salon itself feels scary. Most nail salon clients seem like they are there regularly, to maintain this look, so they know what they’re doing and what to expect, and how to act while I feel strange and awkward.

I know, it’s a lot to attach to the simple exercise of getting one’s nails done.

But every so often, I have a little burst of confidence like last Friday. I decided that this week, I did feel like that woman and wanted to lean into it. I know that I’m allowed to pick and choose what activities and traits fit me best. I can pull from anywhere, even traditionally masculine traits as well. Femininity has many definitions. You’re allowed to sample as you please, and that’s something I need to remind myself of constantly. Sometimes it results in me working harder at the gym, or crying at Disney movies, and sometimes it results in me getting acrylics once every five years because I felt like that type of woman that day. And I’m allowed to change my mind again and again.