ジャッキーの これ、どう思う？ While we're on the topic ...

A "boyish" and "girlish" Jackie JACKIE HOFFART PHOTOS

One of the best parts of writing this column is receiving reader mail. I don't get a chance to acknowledge every letter in the column, but I do read and appreciate all of them. The letters range from complimentary to gently critical (in that very diplomatic, typically Japanese way), to more bizarre essays. I love all of them and learn something interesting from each. I am, quite simply, flattered that anyone reads the column, let alone goes to the trouble to write me!

A recent column about weddings (June 1 issue) generated a lot of feedback. I was really touched by the various responses, but there was something about the letters that kind of rubbed me the wrong way, so I thought they would be worth discussing in more depth.

Quite a few readers seemed to be surprised that I am (in fact) a woman; or that I am a lesbian and that I am very matter-of-fact about it. It hasn't been easy for me to be "this" out, but I consider it a political and moral act, so I push myself past my fear of judgment and don't shy away from bringing it up when the context is relevant. I am neither ashamed nor boastful of who I am; I simply am who I am. I am touched by the people who wrote in to thank me for that honesty.

I try not to be offended by people who are perplexed by me. I lived in Japan long enough to (mostly) get over that. In fact, I always found Japanese people to be quite gentle and self-effacing if something about me surprised or confused them; they were never rude or judgmental. The same cannot be said about people in North America or Europe — the only two places I've lived long enough to speak confidently about.

However, let's make a few things clear: Yes, I have short hair, but my haircut has nothing to do with my sexuality. Yoko Ono has short hair, and as far as I know, she's not gay. Besides, there are plenty of lesbians with long hair (especially in Japan!).

I am also fully aware of the way I style myself, and I know that it can be easily described as "boyish." But I also really like to paint my nails, a typically "girlish" trait. The important thing to understand is that there is an inherent paradox within these terms "boyish" and "girlish." If I identify as a woman, shouldn't it logically follow that whatever I chose to wear is "womanly" (or "girlish"), by virtue of the fact that I am a woman?

Fundamentally, I am in favor of a much broader acceptance of the way people express themselves or their gender. It's not such a big deal, or a transgression, if a woman dresses the way I dress, or if a man styles himself in a more stereotypically "feminine" way. What is at stake if I am a "boyish" woman, or if my neighbor is a "girlish" man?

I ask this question because a lot of people, especially a lot of new parents, don't realize that they are "policing" their children's gender by refusing to let them wear something they perceive as belonging to the other gender.

When I was about 12 years old, I wanted my mom to buy me a baseball jersey to wear casually. They were fashionable at the time. She refused because she thought it was too "boyish." I didn't understand why I couldn't just wear whatever I wanted, and it made me feel like wanting the shirt was some kind of crime against my gender. It isn't, because no T-shirt is going to make me a boy, just like no haircut is going to make me gay. That's just not how gender and sexuality work.

A lot of you may never have considered this kind of thing before, but I suspect a fair number of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. We spend a lot of time and anxiety trying to fit in as people, especially in Japan where the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. I was never able to reconcile myself to that aspect of Japanese culture, and I suspect a lot of Japanese people can't either.

I believe that whatever it is that makes me strange and unusual — or confusing and perplexing — are actually blessings, not burdens. It seems to me that life is so much more enjoyable if I embrace my whole self and celebrate my idiosyncrasies. Most of the nails that life tries to hammer down just pop back up any way, don't they?

My next topic: summer romance