boy crush
he was shirtless on the subway, white tank top slung over his left shoulder and hands clasped behind his head. kinky black hairs crept up from his waist band to his belly, dusted in glistening droplets of sweat that clung delicately to each hair. eyes closed, legs spread. the picture of ease. of relaxation and comfort. he was so beautiful, so so beautiful. the first thought was a wish I’d put mascara on before leaving the house, even though New York City is fighting a diabolical heat wave and it would just give me raccoon eyes before I could make it to Bleaker Street. maybe he would have asked for my number, or he would consider me pretty even if it was only to himself.
I’ve been thinking about him all week, and yet I can’t remember his face. the shape of his lips. whatever color his eyes were. if he has good skin or acne. I can’t remember him but I remember it all so well. the ease. the taking up space. the trust in his surroundings. the ease. the fucking ease.
soon I realized it had happened again. I had a boy crush.
I am getting very good at noticing the difference between a crush and a boy crush. for me, a crush is when a guy stimulates my mind. when I not only find him attractive but crave to pick his brain on politics, art, and the existence of aliens. when I have a boy crush, I find myself altering my speech patterns to match his. when I stand how he stands. when I get a twang of jealousy every time he speaks up. when he sticks up and sticks it to them. there is I Want To Be You and I Want To Be Next To You, and sometimes we teeter the line.
when I was little, I envied other boys on the playground for there toughness. for their ability to rough house. I would have loved to get in the sand with a football and wrestle around. I also was dealing with sometimes unsafe and chaotic living environments at home and the idea that I could be tougher, more able to deal was also extremely alluring. additionally, growing up I always felt like my “funny” had been robbed! little girls aren’t meant to joke about boobs and butts and pees and poops. I would get in so much trouble for cracking jokes while the male class clown got to practically MOON the class and get off freely. little boys were goofy and dirty and gross and girls who acted the same were just plain bad. the hypocrisy of it all!
I love boys and men. I have since I was a very little girl. I’ve also had mixed feelings of sexual and romantic attractions to women, but that was also something I couldn’t quite pin about myself. there was no shame in it, I was fine with being bi or even gay. but I’d like a girl, and then get close to said girl, and then suddenly the urge to be with her in that way would disappear. I felt awful about it. at 25 I think I’ve experienced enough to know I feel that heterosexual relationships best align with my soul and spirit. but every once and a while I still meet a girl, a certain type of girl and get butterflies. it was always the same kind of girl. a girl who in some way reminded me of my first ever girl crush.
you know her. it’s duffle bag girl from The Parent Trap.
she was cool. she was strong. she didn’t give a fuck. and to quote Halle, that’s my kind of woman. I watched the duffle bag scene over and over again and before my thoughts ever stirred towards sexual orientation they were simply admiration and the desire to be just like her. maybe, just maybe, 8 year old hnwrote had it right the first time.
I explain all of this because whenever I talk to people about my experiences with gender envy, even therapists, they always carefully ask questions that I feel is dismissive and reductive to the point I’m making or trying to convey. I’ve been told that it’s because I’m a lesbian and I don’t actually like men, they’re just some kind of default for me. when people know I’ve expressed interest in exploring women it only adds more fuel to their hunch.
I made a TikTok once speaking about times where I leaned into a more androgynous external style for the simple fact that I felt I couldn’t be pretty in a traditionally feminine way. a lot of the comments were people agreeing or resonating with my experience. but a lot of the comments were things like, “I’m going to hold your hand while I say this,” and “who is going to tell her?”
WHO IS GOING TO TELL ME WHAT?!
I am thankful that we live in a world where we can live out our gender and sexual identity, where we can have open conversations and help people come to conclusions about who they are. and I understand that no one wants to hear a cis white girl’s story about her path to finding out she was actually straight, but I am deep in my sexual and gender identity. and it’s like, we could be having a seriously interesting conversation about gender envy in a patriarchal society and you’re just trying to convince me I’m gay. it’s frustrating!
just like subway man I find myself fawning after men who live fearlessly in ways I simply cannot. I am jealous of men who can charm their way out of tardiness at work and school. who are charming without looking slutty. when they can flirt like that. when they live in a world where taking a nap on the subway isn’t the most dangerous thing you could ever think to do. and they can do it half naked all beautiful and sweaty. their bodies can just be their bodies and they never say sorry. they never have to say sorry.
in Anna Frued’s book Impious Fidelity, gender envy is a major theme. both genders can feel gender envy and both are usually results of limiting norms and expectations we can often feel shackled to. after conducting several case studies it was found that men often envied women for their emotional connection with others and ability to show emotion. just like me, women were typically found to be envious of success and freedoms that are often out of reach for women. I am always reminded of Greta Gerwig’s version of Little Women when Jo says “I am so tired of everyone saying love is all a woman is fit for. But I am so lonely.” I’ve always related to that. to having some kind of shame in wanting things that stereotypically aligned with your gender, like marriage and children, because there’s this urge to fight back. to prove that you could be something else, something more if you wanted. it’s this drive to have choice.
it’s always about choice.
I fear posting this publication deeply, which is why I’ve been toying around with it for so long. I would never want someone to feel I was reducing their experience or writing off same sex attraction as simply gender envy, especially not during pride month of all months! but I wanted the month of June to be about desire. getting to the root of desire, taking accountability for your own desires. what you want is so interconnected with who you are. I am turning 25 this summer and I feel that I know myself better than I ever have, more than I ever have and more everyday.
I know I want to be comfortable taking up space. that I like feeling strong and tough. that I want my body to represent nothing more than a vessel, not something that can be labeled or regulated. it’s what most women want, I think. I admire women who still find ways to exist in such ways in spite of it all the most. that’s real peace, you know. letting all the wants and needs inside you exist harmoniously, as your spirit intends.
love, h.n<3
ME SO MUCH I used to have people in school assume I wasn't straight, which isn't bad at all, and the only reason it bothered me was because of why they were doing so. it wasn't because they thought I was attracted to women, it was because I wore emo clothes and grew out my eyebrows and liked certain music (I was actually told this a couple times).
I wouldn't have been upset if they genuinely thought I liked women due to the way I spoke of them or interacted with them, but it frustrated me that the only basis of their claims was that I didn't fit their requirements of heteronormative femininity! and it felt dismissive to my friends who were bisexual, lesbian, gay, because their hearts were more than the way they dressed or did their hair
the laurie and jo cover photo is so perfect for this. great piece!! i can relate!!