In October 2008, I painted my nails for the first time. As a Halloween costume, I dressed in women’s clothing. I grabbed a black pencil skirt, bedazzled blouse, and women’s size 15 heels from the local Goodwill. I borrowed my grandmother's bra and stuffed it full of socks. My sisters gave me a full face of makeup, and I had a cheap wig from a Halloween store. Maybe it was “drag” or “crossdressing,” technically, I’m not sure. I think I called myself “a hooker” when asked about my costume. Hooray for being 16.
And in July 2022, I painted my nails for a second time. But fourteen years later, this instance was not for a costume or an event. This was merely to satisfy my curiosity.
A straight man painting his nails in 2022 is hardly a revolutionary act. I didn’t even push myself very far, as I only applied a single coat directly on to the fingernail; there were no acrylics here. So going into this, I know that this isn’t the kind of performance that will rewrite gender norms.
Gender is a performance, and there is no biological predisposition for particular patterns of fashion or grooming. This is not up for debate. Pick a gender, and examine how fashion and grooming standards change across space and time. But maybe that’s a different blog post for a different time.
In all aspects of my life, my performance is one that aligns with mainstream contemporary American masculinity.
As an aside, I should mention here though that there is some amount of assumption that I’m proceeding with for this blog post. I assume that you and I are on the same page when I use terms like “mainstream masculinity” or “traits traditionally perceived as feminine.” If we’re operating within a gender binary paradigm, I’m talking about the idea that one of the genders exhibits a pattern much more often or intensely than the other. Gendered stereotypes are everywhere. Women keep their hair long, have greater parental ability, and talk about their feelings. Men then would keep their hair short, have a lesser parental ability, and are less comfortable talking about their feelings. (But of course, these are not biological rules as much as they are learned behaviors and are the product of life experiences.)
In other words, if you see me using broad sweeping terms like those to describe a gendered pattern, know that I’m operating in the broadest/Western/traditional sense of what is/isn’t masculine/feminine.
Anyway, as I was saying. My gender performance is one that aligns with mainstream contemporary American masculinity. I’m certainly no norm-bending harbinger for the genderless society of the future (though I think there are some old conservatives who think so). When it comes to outward performance, I’m most comfortable within those gendered confines. My normal wardrobe is not one that contains skirts, dresses, high heels, or makeup. This is not to say that I’d be uncomfortable defying the gendered fashion conventions. I just don’t do it.
So the act of having brightly colored fingernails was, for me, a change. And for those wondering, I didn’t even paint them myself. My girlfriend did it. I guess I lack the nimble features associated with more feminine phenotypes.
Some Observed Reactions
So what did I observe, how did people react, and how did I change? I’ll start by saying that I must not have my finger on the pulse of The Culture, because the reactions I received were not the reactions I anticipated.
So I wrote the above and I ruminated for two weeks on the reactions I observed. To be honest, no one had much to say at all. That is to say, they had nothing interesting to say.
My girlfriend, who painted my nails, did not feel strongly in any way.
My mother hated them, and that was to be expected.
My father said nothing, which was also to be expected. (Though he may have spent a few moments wondering where he “went wrong.”)
My coworkers, 80% of them younger than I am, were entirely supportive. They thought it was cool. They enjoyed the color choices. But they didn’t find it odd or weird, nor did they engage with me as if it defined some part of my identity. To quote one of my favorite coworkers, a 19-year-old host, “I fuck with the nails, bro.” Generally, that might summarize what my coworkers thought about my painted nails.
And in the two weeks, 10 shifts, and hundreds of guests I served at my local chain restaurant, only two interactions mentioned my bright nail polish. One was a young woman with her mom, who asked if I painted them myself.
The other was a woman in her 50’s, who arrived drunk with 12 other drunk adults. I later learned they had come straight from a funeral. “I love your nails, honey. Whatever makes you happy, you do it,” she said supportively. That table ended up splitting their bill 9 ways, and stiffed me on a $200 check. They got into a verbal argument in the parking lot that was so loud, my manager stuck my head out and said they’d call the cops if they didn’t get off the property.
All in all, this wasn’t the experience I thought it would be. I don’t feel any strong desire to paint my nails in the future, but I also am no more opposed to doing it again. Not a single person felt the need to belittle or question the decision to decorate my fingertips, nor was the support overtly memorable.
I’ve thought long and hard about scrapping this blog post as one unworthy of archival on my small website for my small community.
But sometimes “no data” is “data.” A researcher looking to answer the unanswered questions may hypothesize the correct outcome. They may guess entirely incorrectly. Or sometimes, a third, and altogether unexpected outcome occurs. That, my friends, is still a valuable experience worth documenting.
At least sometimes.
Thanks for letting me Overshare. Leave a comment, like the post, or share with a friend; they all go a long way in growing the website. If you'd like to contribute to the project, please consider supporting me through Patreon. You can also follow me on socials for updates on Instagram, Tiktok, and Twitch, or through the email list.
Comments