"Maddie, be green tea" - a discussion about presentation
(CW: Fat-shaming, dysphoria, discussions about body image issues)
I spoke to my Taiwanese trans friend last night about how our emotions changed post transition, and how I--personally--don't get angry much (if at all) unless I'm severely stressed out, overstimulated, and then someone throws the final straw on the haystack.
...I may be talking about recent days, but hey.
My friend's interjection came with a wry smile. "You want to be likeable?"
Obviously I paused at this question. It sounded vain and shallow, but this is Asia. Results matter more than intentions, as our parents would oft prove by pointing to our tests. It's why so many Reincarnation and Cultivation stories exist. The proliferation of
Cynicism and bitterness has seeped too much into the fabric of our society.
(This concludes Maddie's allotted tangent on fantasy works for today.)
I replied, "...Sure?" in a rather tentative manner. She was still grinning.
"Maddie, be green tea."
I admitted that I was unfamiliar with this slang.
She laughed. "In marketing, green tea has the perfect image. It's innocent, full of antioxidants, and great for your body. Everyone loves the -idea- of green tea. It's never too sweet or bitter or strong."
She dropped her voice when the waiter passed by.
"If you're green tea, no one will suspect your true intentions."
It hit me: 'being a green tea woman' is a negative term.
"We can't get angry, right? It rather destroys our image."
She means, of course, the idea that women don't or shouldn't get angry. If they do, it's 'cute' or 'ugly and unbecoming'.
"My advice: play into it. Do exactly what society expects of you. CRY. If you cry publicly instead of getting angry, that's a slam dunk for sympathy. That's how you get the entire table on your side. That's how you beat them."
Earlier, she had spent some time telling me how cruel she found society as a transwoman. The things spoken behind her back. The interpersonal relationships she had to navigate.
"So be green tea. Be innocent. Be harmless and if that requires you to be stupid, be stupid. I always am. I pretend I can't book plane tickets, that I get flustered super easily and my boyfriend will do it for me. And then I will fawn over him. I tell him how great and smart and amazing he is."
There was a look in her eye that told me she had 'won'.
"Do you want to be loved, Maddie? Then make men feel needed. There's nothing they desire more."
It was at this moment I realized I never told her I was a lesbian. I didn't, not even for the rest of the night. I did not think it relevant.
Finally, she topped it off with, "You're too competent, you know? Girls like you are gonna have a hard time getting a man."
Perhaps. Depending on the type of man. Depending on the society and circumstances. But would I ever want such a man?
On a personal note, could I not make a woman feel needed by simply loving her as much as possible? Could I not squeeze her hand, stare into her eyes, take her out to dinner, bake her delicious goods, hold her tight at night, and give her every other form of love and affirmation?
Still, she speaks of men. Asian men. I remember that recent Twitter trend of women ranking Asian men by countries on how anti-feminist and conservative they were. The replies were unanimous in agreement.
It does not surprise me.
I have heard so many horror stories about men leaving women who are more competent than them.
Allow me one observation.
I understand the necessity of becoming a 'green tea woman'. Believe me, I do. It can be pragmatic in certain societies. However, I've found that gossip invites gossip, drama to drama, and lies always lead to more lies. If you want to play a manipulation game and angle your perspective to view things through the lens of social politics, it will infuse every aspect of your life. It will never stop.
If you attempt to min-max a relationship, it will eat you up.
I was taught to play these games as a kid. To exploit every connection and climb that social ladder. I think I am still recovering from the abuse levied upon me during that time. In particular, my grandmother had a very violent, iron-clad view of how my life needed to be lived. To see, to know that my lingering trauma and anger and fear comes from this period of my life is painful, but necessary to accept.
This blogpost will do better metrics-wise if I ended it here as a clean, self-contained piece. But lmao, I'm not making any money off this shit, I'm going to talk about self-indulgent things that also happened last night.
We talked about dysphoria. About 'problems' with our bodies. She asked for permission to touch my face and shoulders and I obliged. Since she works in Plastic Surgery, I trusted her when she said the touch confirms the hypothesis of the eyes.
We talked about the things that clock us.
"For me," she said, "it was my brow, my cheekbones, and my chin. I fixed all three. Oh hey, good news by the way: you want a big brow! It keeps your skin from sagging when you're older. People who get their brow shaved down...that's gonna be an issue in the future."
I looked at her. Her brow was prominent, but fine. I knew about brow shaving procedures in FFS, but she didn't look as if she--
"I added to it. At the top! To make the brow look rounder and fuller. That's the other way of doing it if you don't want to shave. And I didn't want to risk sagging skin."
She then told me that what helped her pass the most was getting her cheekbones done. Surprisingly, she told me, the jawline is not that big a deal. The chin actually matters more.
Curiously, I asked how she felt about me. She touched my face again and pursed her lips in thought.
"Your bones aren't too bad," she said.
"But not great, huh?"
"You're not bad. That's all I can say."
I'll wait another year and see what estrogen does.
"You'll pass--I think. Sorry, that's such a hard thing to say. Look at me. I model. I appear in music videos. That's how pretty I am. That people let me do it means I pass, right?"
I told her she did in fact pass perfectly. She didn't even need to do voice training because she had secretly taken blockers as a teenager. In fact, she wasn't aware of the concept of voice training until I introduced it to her.
"Yeah! And people still clock me. I don't know how. It's just how it is. Cis women get 'clocked' too all the time. I think you'll pass, but to make you prettier? I'd do plastic on your chin."
I laughed. I wasn't interested.
Briefly too, we discussed our insecurities. I told her, in full honesty, that my shoulders were too broad.
She guffawed. Literally.
"Whoops. That's not very lady-like of me."
I told her she didn't need to 'act' in front of me, but she replied that she wanted to. It was part of an image she was cultivating.
"I get you. My shoulders are broad too."
She told me a few weeks back that she had injected botox into her shoulder muscles to shrink them. It's caused her significant issues in her day to day life because while her arm muscles are strong, she can't lift heavy things without the support of her shoulders/back.
"I have to look pretty to survive."
I didn't comment on that line.
"You're fine! Your shoulders are smaller than mine."
Still, comparisons are comparisons. It didn't make me feel any better about myself.
I will post a photo I'm rather ashamed of to prove a point. God, it really hurts showing this, but I'm gonna do it anyway to build some amount of courage.
I borrowed my friend's Ada Wong costume that she wore to a con a while ago. Everything is hers save for the tights and boots.
Now, western people will look at this photo and say I have broad shoulders (despite my pose in the photo doing my best to 'minimize' them). The definition of 'broad shoulders' comes down to the ratio of the shoulders to the hips. I don't really have an ass. You can tell very easily.
...I really hate the photo above. Compare me with any other Ada Wong cosplayer and you'll see how 'wrong' my proportions are.
Sigh.
"A lot of Asian women don't have boobs or ass," said my friend. "So here? You don't have broad shoulders. Because your build is exactly what we expect Asian women to have."
And that's the difference. In the West, I intentionally choose skirts with a flare or wider, baggier pants to balance my silhouette out on the bottom. But in Taiwan, I'm told to slap on a pencil skirt or skinny jeans instead. In fact, the goal is to look as straight and skinny as possible (although, a slight waistline would not be unwelcome).
That's what's considered 'pretty' here: slim, refined elegance.
It was at this point my mother intruded and shouted, "White people have fat asses! White people have fat asses!"
SIKE!
OH, YOU THOUGHT.
YEAH. MY -MILDLY- TRANSPHOBIC MOTHER WAS AT THE SAME TABLE FOR DINNER THE WHOLE TIME, I JUST NEVER MENTIONED HER.
THIS IS A COMMON MURDER MYSTERY TROPE BY THE WAY: NOT MENTIONING A CHARACTER THAT WAS ALWAYS PRESENT.
CONSIDER YOURSELF EDUCATED.
"A fat ass is so ugly! I see white women and I always think why are they so fat and ugly?"
I apologize for my mother. Sincerely.
She then went on a brief (I lie, it was very long) rant about how ugly women didn't deserve to be with good-looking men.
For someone who's current greatest fear is that people won't love me because I'm ugly--I'm going to be honest and say my mother's words hurt me quite badly. My dysphoria flared so violently I wanted to slide under the table and die.
I am reminded constantly that whatever I have inside doesn't matter.
I have to be pretty.
I have to be pretty.
I have to be pretty.
I really want to die sometimes.
Thankfully, my friend eventually directed the conversation back.
"Don't worry about your shoulders. You have what we in the industry call supermodel shoulders."
She drew the shape in the air with her fingers.
"It's that nice L shape, yeah? Most women have a slope or a hunch. That's why you wear clothes well, because they hang properly off your shoulders. Men will like you naked there."
Har har.
"I know because I have supermodel shoulders too! And I look good naked up top."
I'm very happy she's comfortable enough to talk to me about these things. Still, it should be noted that she may be right. I also have very sexy collarbones.
"You have to remember you're very unphotogenic though."
Internally, I could feel myself falling off a cliff. I have had so many people tell me that I look horrible in photos and they're surprised by me in real life.
I've accepted my doom at this point.
"That's why I always alter my photos using that program on my phone. Especially my shoulders! I make them smaller! I want people to see the 'real life' me! See, a camera just flattens things based on the angle you're holding it at, right?"
She scrolled through my phone again.
"Your shoulders look bigger in all of these. Your legs look shorter too. That's just the camera."
Perhaps I'm noting this down so I can hold onto my last remaining lifeline. Allow me some hope while I dangle precariously off that cliff.
The last highlight of the night was our Instagram messages afterwards. For months she's called me Madeline until tonight, when I asked her to call me Maddie instead.
