While masculinity and femininity exist on a spectrum as social constructs, there is a misconception that gender itself also operates in the same way. As a gay male, I don’t pretend to understand the challenges of being a butch woman in a Red State America, specifically in areas such as the South; However, I remember the fear of being seen as less than my identity for not exhibiting qualities deemed “enough.”
In The Grey Area: Perspective of a Masculine Female, Keagan Anfuso questions why a woman must be considered anything less than a woman if she lacks traditionally feminine traits. The documentary begins in the familiar setting of a school courtyard, where deviating from gender norms can feel like a cardinal sin. While homosexuality is often unwelcome in this environment, Anfuso brings an important reminder to the conversation: sometimes, a person’s struggle with gender norms has nothing to do with their sexuality.
I’ll be honest: I was inclined, perhaps even attempted, to dislike this short film. At times, it adheres so closely to the formula of typical coming-of-age documentaries. A queer individual experiences bullying at school, parents fail to understand, and life proves tragically challenging from every angle. Anfuso’s personal journey is intertwined with a support group of like-minded individuals, reassuring them that they are not alone in their struggles.
But I felt alone in déjà vu. Sure, it’s all relatable, important, and urgent, but in terms of cinema, the structure feels like it’s been there, done that.
Thankfully, I kept watching and discovered I was projecting my own bias based on the coming-of-age films I’ve gravitated toward historically. It took me a minute to realize the film has nothing to do with queerness, which is perhaps at the root of Anfuso’s struggle: why does a masculine woman have to be anything besides just a woman? In fact, why does she even have to be considered “masculine” just because she can open a pickle jar without help, has a buzzcut, or plays sports?
“It’s just the way it is,” Anfuso’s mom says in the car at one point, smoking a cigarette. (The woman smokes a cigarette while screaming at Anfuso in the doorway and expressing disappointment while hosing down the garden.)
This film is actually groundbreaking in placing butch womanhood into a narrative it rarely gets to be: just woman. Although the cultural dialogue around nonbinary genders and “they/them” pronouns have liberated people who don’t see themselves as male or female, it has, to a certain degree, peddled the misconception that appearances influence how you identify. That a woman must be femme or be in the sphere of other.
Anfuso asks how it’s possible that personality, anatomy, and emotional connection can all be outweighed by appearances. Why do masculine women have to be lesbians? And if they are lesbians, why does there have to be a “man” in the relationship?
Most poignant of all is the fact it all comes down to clothes and a haircut, which has resulted in women being harassed, attacked, and even killed for not adhering to their gender’s style.
The filmmaker laments not being raised in a nudist environment and wonders whether all her struggles would have disappeared in the absence of fabric.
The Grey Area reflects a tale swept under the rug of inclusivity: the danger of conflating identity with outward appearance. Despite our awareness as gay men, we frequently succumb to using terms like “lipstick lesbian” or “butch queen” and often assess a woman’s queerness based on her level of femininity.
The film is a unique way to celebrate Pride, bringing the lesson that being yourself doesn’t change who you are.
Towards the end, Anfuso wears a drape instead of a tuxedo for her yearbook picture to please her mother. Later, she discovers her mother sobbing over the yearbook photos, with the epiphany the person in the images wasn’t her. They hug for the first time in five years.
You can watch The Grey Area below and at this link.
