By Mika Lynch-Lee

I did not know you could make assumptions about one’s sexuality. What an impossible thing to predict, and a rather useless prediction at that. Despite my exasperation, I began to recognize how I was being affected by the assumptions of others as I got older.

Assumptions feel like prophecies. Fortunes that someone else has foretold for you but you have not yet fulfilled. Even if it is false now, it will eventually be true. It is part of human nature to make assumptions and behave accordingly. It has proved useful, maybe. But, assumptions also let people label you based on their stereotypes. It forces you to conform to other people’s definitions of what you should look like, or be subject to wrong assumptions.

When I was eleven, I shaved half my head and put green streaks in the other. How cool was I? With my dyed hair and edgy cut. When I was twelve, I cut my hair down even shorter until not a single piece on the top fell past my ears. How cool I was, with my short hair. After my second big haircut, I would often get misgendered. Adults in public would use the wrong pronouns and I’d correct them. Initially, I was confused, but I then realized how many adults were used to seeing young boys with short hair. It was I who was a rarity.
I began to question myself. Am I really a cisgender girl? Why do I have short hair? The longer I kept the haircut, the more I pondered the topic, and the more I noticed how easily everyone made assumptions. In all the shows I watched, the female characters with short hair were lesbian. Across the media was a common trope that I saw repeatedly leading me to question myself even more. How could I look like them, but not be like them? It was hard to think about who I was when my identity was being told and defined for me. My short hair was no longer just a part of me, it was me because it was an object of assumption.

Most of the time, I could ignore the questions that sat in my head, as I was not worried about presenting any differently. I remember working as a mother’s helper at thirteen. My short hair and I would go over to the house and get paid five dollars an hour to make mac and cheese and fold laundry. I was sitting with one of the sons at the table, when his grandma began talking to him about his future and said “One day you will marry a lovely woman!” Then, she looked at me and added, “Or a man.” I gave a small smile.

I had no problem with this lady telling her grandson that it was okay to marry a man. I felt bad because she added it while looking at me. As if I should be grateful she thought to remind him of that. Because I am part of that community and would appreciate being recognized. But I was not. I knew the only reason she thought to add what she did was because of how I presented. That moment has not fully left me because it taught me how looks do have a large effect on one’s perception.

Soon after, I began growing my hair out, and eventually maintained a longer cut. It had nothing to do with wanting to present differently—it was simply out of preference. At least, I remember it that way. Or maybe that preference was to not get placed in a category I did not identify with. By then, I was fully aware of the stereotypes existing around one’s hair. The worst part about this awareness meant that I was also influenced to hold the same assumptions. I asked my friends did you think I was gay when I had short hair?

Yes. It was confirmed. Even my friends who were not straight themselves still had the same assumptions that I did. They thought I was gay even though I had not expressed any sentiments to confirm it. Hearing this only made me confused as to why they assumed despite my words otherwise. I no longer felt bad that I had once come off a way I did not want to, but in that moment, I questioned how others saw me. That’s kind of funny actually, that everyone assumed I was gay because of my hair, but that I’m straight now. Wow, what a funny funny situation.

Things became a lot less funny as I got older. I knew I wasn’t straight, but I couldn’t admit it. Admitting my sexuality would be proving all the assumptions right. I could not confirm the stereotypes. I could not make it look like I had just been denying myself the whole time. I did not want to fulfill the prophecy that others set for me. It becomes hard to realize yourself when you are used to conforming to make others more comfortable; when you find comfort in avoiding the expectations of what is “gay” and following what is not.

From a young age, my identity felt out of my control. It did not matter that I was not gay, what mattered was I had short hair, and so it was assumed that I was. All that seemed to matter when it came to my sexuality was how everyone knew it before I did myself. You could say I finally discovered who I am but it felt as if I was just slow to solve what everyone else had already deciphered about me.

How was that possible?

Realizing I am not straight was more of an internal struggle because it meant I was not in control. As much as I could say what my sexuality was, presentation seemed to matter more. What impacted my self-perception the most was having to learn about all the stereotypes connected to sexuality. Even now, I am taking note of how my actions will be perceived in relation to my sexuality. I sometimes wonder if my outfits convey a different message. Do they truly reflect who I am? This self awareness might seem normal but it does not help me in any way. Dressing differently based on how I think I will be perceived is not how I should have to make decisions. Growing my hair out to avoid looking like someone I am not is no way to live. But, I am used to it. The people in my life are supportive, but it came with an assumption that all along, I was who I am now. It comes with an I could tell.

No you couldn’t!

I was not that person all along. I knew who I was then, and I know who I am now. My realization is invalidated when someone mentions what they thought my sexuality was. My sexuality has always been the business of those who make assumptions. And everyone who thinks makes assumptions.

I’ve never been straight, at least in the eyes of others. It feels like my sexuality has never been free. I am just another person unable to break out of the assumptions of sexuality. But I know that my sexuality has changed and I can recognize that for myself. Even if no one else can validate it.