A True Introvert

So I did it. I moved to a big city. I crossed the country in my little car and only the possessions my boyfriend and I could fit into it. We found an apartment in a good neighborhood. He found a job, I found enough freelance work to cobble together an income for the time being. So that's that. Big city life begins now.

Except that it doesn't. Because even with all the big changes I've managed to make in the recent months (none of which I regret), I haven't changed. This shouldn't be a surprise, but somehow, to me it was. I really felt that moving to a city would lead to more excitement, more work, more friends, more life. Very naive, but yes, it's what I felt. Not so much what I thought, because I am a smart person and I rationally know that moving doesn't just make those things happen. But somewhere, deep down, it was what I felt.

My mother calls me a true introvert. Not just an introvert, a true introvert. She would hold me up as the classic example if someone asked her to define the word. A few summers ago, I worked at a summer camp for the entire summer, living in a house with 11 other people, the people I would work with for two and a half months. Before camp started, we all took personality tests as a way to talk about how we would deal with each other and any problems that might come up. There were 10 questions that, we found out at the end of the test, corresponded to introversion vs. extroversion. I got 9/10 for introversion. Curious, I checked to see on which answer I leaned toward extraversion. The question was something like, "If the phone rings, do you want to be the first person to pick it up or do you wait for someone else to answer it?" I chose to be the person to pick it up. Here was my thought process:

Well, ok, we can't be talking about my personal cell phone because obviously, no one else is going to pick it up. Either I answer it or no one does. But this is talking about a group phone, like the house phone. OK so when I lived at home, what did I do? Ugh, no one answered the phone at home. If I don't pick it up, no one's going to. And then it will just ring and I'll wonder if someone's dead and we don't know because no one is answering. So, I guess I'd answer the phone.

So, my need for control was masquerading as extroversion.

http://www.takenseriouslyamusing.com/
2013/04/15/introversion-and-me/

When my phone (or any other phone) rings, I don't want to answer it. I do, these days, because I'm a freelancer and there's no distinguishing my work phone and my personal phone. But I don't want to; I don't want to start a conversation without knowing what it's about. If it's a number I don't recognize, I wonder who it is and if there's any way it could be something bad or if it could be someone who's going to make me feel awkward. If it's a friend, I wonder why they're calling. Are they going to keep me on the phone for a long time? Are they gonna just feel like chatting when I want to be reading? If it's a number associated with work, I'll answer with my heart rate increasing, wondering if I've done something wrong. If it's my mom, my sisters, or my boyfriend I'll answer every time. They are the only ones whose calls I answer every time. The sound of the phone ringing gives me anxiety, and I'd rather wait to get a voicemail, find out what the call was about, and call back when I've had time to prepare. Or better yet, just speak to someone through texts.

Social situations make me uncomfortable. I don't like asking for help, because it usually involves having to a) speak to people and b) admit I don't know something. When I go to the library, I look up the book beforehand to make sure they have it and that it's not checked out, and I write down the call number so I can easily find it. So that I don't have to talk to anyone. I don't want to start conversations with random strangers. Small talk makes me uncomfortable and I'm not good at it. I never mastered the art of a quick answer that tells the truth while glossing over anything I don't want to talk about and leaving the asker satisfied. Most of the time, if I'm going to a party or other large group social scenario, I have to psych myself up for it. If it's with people I like, or if I can find a small group of people I'm comfortable with, I can have a great time at the party. I do enjoy being with people, after all. But at some point during the event, I'll hit a wall and it is time to go home. Too much social interaction. Must recharge. All systems shutting...down...now.

I know all this about myself. So why did I think that moving to a city would change it? I don't know.

I am an introvert, maybe even a true introvert. But I still like spending time with other people. I just have to remind myself that in order to see other people, I have to be the one to go out. I have to send out texts to see whose available. If I want to meet new people, I have to find out what's happening around town and go out to new events. It will never be easy for me. It will be mentally and emotionally exhausting and it will take time. But it will be worth it. And true introvert or not, I can do it.

Homemade Feminist Debates: Chopping My Hair

I have been thinking a lot about returning to the pixie cut and it has sparked a bit of a debate at home.

Last night, the boyfriend and I were surfing the Internet searching for the latest information on Syria. We started watching a clip of Rachel Maddow's show from August 29. At some point, he said, "Rachel Maddow is sexy!" Still thinking about all the arguing we'd done about my potential haircut, I muttered, "She has short hair."

Thus began an hour-long debate (I don't think I'm exaggerating the amount of time) in which we talked about Rachel Maddow's specific type of sexiness, sexism, the narrow definition of beauty in our culture, whether or not the boyfriend's preferences are shaped by societal and cultural forces or not, and (way too) much more.

My main debate with myself has been, "How much does his opinion matter? He is my partner, I love him, but how much should I consider his opinion when thinking about a haircut that I really want to get?" I don't want to discount him completely, but I don't want my decisions to be swayed more by his opinion than my own. Aaron wanted his opinion to matter.

At some point, out of frustration and curiosity, I turned (where else?) to Google. Aaron started playing his video game while I searched phrases like "should boyfriend's opinion matter on haircut" and "men's opinion on pixie cuts". What I found, of course, was a huge heap of sexism.

The first articles I read were pro-pixie cut, written by women. One was written by a woman who hadn't believed her boyfriend when he said he didn't like short hair, and she was surprised by how much he disliked her new cut. Another was by a woman who loves her cut, but admits that reactions from men are pretty extreme, and that if you're going to do it, you just have to accept that people will think you're a lesbian. And, as always, my favorite Bitch media pitched in with Who's Afraid of a Pixie Cut? This was probably the most encouraging article to read: it ended with It's scary that a woman with short hair is still seen as some sort of questionable rebel. Hooray for the young women in the spotlight who rock a pixie cut with no apologies. Chop, chop.

It was also the article that started the downward spiral of my argument with the boyfriend.

As he was playing his game (which he played throughout this conversation, so his attention was divided), he asked, "Whatcha looking at?" I told him what I had Googled, and he laughed. "So what'd ya find?" I read him this quote from the Bitch story about the "retrograde notion that says that cutting your hair short makes you somehow less of a woman." Aaron was suddenly defensive, arguing with me about his opinions being his own and not all based in cultural ideas. I argued back that of course our opinions are shaped by cultural forces. 

I bet you didn't even realize that Emma
Watson looks like a short squatty man, did you?

Then I found the website that hit the nail on my argument. I almost hate to link to it, but this particular post is two years old, and it's so ridiculous, you just have to see it. From the Alpha Game blog (with the subtitle 'Breaking the chains, winning the game, and saving Western civilization') comes the post "Women: don't cut your damn hair". (It's interesting to note that this post came up first in the Google search.) This post argues for long hair on women, because men prefer it, and notes that women who cut their hair "look like short squatty men" and that other women praise the pixie cut because secretly they know that short hair makes women unattractive and they want other women to be less attractive than they are, so they conspire to get other women to chop their hair. The comments of this post are where it gets really crazy, where readers say things like: 

   "Long hair is absolutely THE signature stamp of femininity and female beauty"

   "It's really not that complicated. Long hair good, short hair butch." 

   "Now that it's growing again I hear from women 'oh, I just loved your hair shorter.' I don't believe it. They also try to convince me to go back to my natural color (dark "dirty dishwater" blonde) instead of the color my husband prefers (platinum). Again, a suggestion I think is insincere and catty. Of course not all men prefer blondes but mine does, and women should not be taken seriously when suggesting hair styles to each other"

   "Practical, 'soccer-Mom' hair styles are, well, indicative of frigidity. No thanks." 

Of course, none of these men considers that women get their hair cut based on what they want to do; these men (and women) assume that women's hairstyles should be solely aimed toward pleasing men. 

I tried to use this article to point out how so many people are still wrapped in old-school notions about beauty and femininity and what makes a woman a woman. Aaron thought I was blaming him for thinking the same way.  When I finally said, "Aaron these people are ridiculous. I don't believe you are anywhere near them, and the argument started about a quote from one of the articles," he looked sheepish and said, "Oh. I was playing my game...I thought you were saying I was like that." 

So even though this hour-long debate could have been avoided by a little more communication and a little less Playstation, I'm glad it happened. It was a great discussion about the definitions of beauty and how women with short hair are still seen by many people as turning their back on femininity or beauty, and about whether pretty should even matter when getting a haircut. 

I'm still a little nervous about the chop, but I'm going to do it. I've made a collage of pixie cuts I like, and a collage of those I don't, to take to the stylist. I really want to maintain it for a while, work with styling it different ways, and have fun with a new hairstyle. 

And if men think I'm a lesbian, or lament the loss of my hair, I know who not to hang out with. As one of the commenters on Alpha Game said, 

"I'm thinking of cutting my hair now just so I can weed out people like you!"