I spent almost all yesterday in bed with a shivering Potato (he got clipped way too short for the weather) reading Game of Thrones and periodically wondering how bad a person I am for all the cultural appropriation I get up to.
TLDR: one serving of privileged white whine. Please ignore at your discretion, I’m merely paranoid and needed to vent some of my insecurities.
I do struggle with this a lot, what with all my kimono.
Is knowing all the minute details about what and how you’re wearing really justification enough?
I want to visit the Japan Festival today. I don’t want to look like a dumbass. I feel that even if I were impeccably dressed, with pristine time/place/occasion kitsuke and impeccably tied musubi I could be derailed by a single person whispering weaboo.
I already have an army of angry Obaasan in my head disapproving of everything I do, making me take hours to get my dressing perfect; even if it makes me late, or entirely miss the thing I am dressing for.
I do everything I can to not go full weaboo. I study the culture and language; I can hold a modest primary school grade conversation of which I am perhaps overly embarrassed at.
I never really got into the hugely traditional elements of kimono. Part of me is too scared, because I lack some innate quality and thus would always get it wrong. The other part is that I have never been overly fond of tradition, or anything that could be interpreted as rules for the sake of rules. I am a woman with lime green hair who makes games; I’m hardly a traditional anything. I wear capes, corsets, and clashing colours on a day to day basis and it’s a rare occasion for me to be caught wearing jeans. I’m never on trend.
When I wear my kimono, I want to keep this edge of my style. Because after all, if I’m not being me when I wear it, what am I but a racist caricature? I’ve had too many people say “look at the pretty geesha girl!” that I actually don’t know if I could trust myself not to snap at the next. I try to maintain that element of dorky awkward, outrageous yet homely and approachable that I know my style to be, but It’s so hard to separate from all-out ignorance, it has to be translated into this new code of dress. People just think I dressed up wrong. And I’m positive I get it wrong a lot.
Sigh. I need to get out of the house today. So I guess I’ll roll on down to the festival and try not to cringe when someone wants a photo of me making a fool of myself. Take that, anxieties.