Landry Doyle

My X-Men and Barbies Played Together: thoughts on proper role of gender identity

I don’t know what to write. But that’s because I don’t really know what I think about being a woman. It’s not something I really think about, or even care to think about (dare I say). If I’m being honest, I don’t think of myself as a “woman” all that often…I’m just me––I like what I like, I act how I act, I feel what I feel, and rarely do I interpret any of those emotions or behaviors through the lens of gender. Sure it’s a valid lens––God intentionally made men and women different, and I recognize that. But it’s not something that really concerns me.

I get queasy when someone describes what a woman should look like––How about I just be myself and let that be what a woman looks like? Would that be okay?


I resonate with 90% of Taylor Swift’s lyrics.

I’m put off by a co-worker who calls me “Miss Landry”  (as if I were the debutante friend of Scarlet O’Hara).

I find a strange solace during the 15 minutes I spend putting on makeup every morning.

I wore an Hakeem Olajuwon jersey to the Christmas pageant in 2nd grade.

I love “Say Yes to the Dress.”

I took out the trash last night at church just because our leader specifically asked the men in our group to handle it.

The idea of being a stay at home mom makes me want to throw up.

The idea of not being married by the age of 30 makes me want to cry.

There are plenty of women that I admire and respect, but only a couple that I actually emulate.


I realize that this isn’t really moving in any clear direction (unfortunately confirming that stereotype about women and navigation), but I think it’s an accurate reflection of the transition and general disarray that my life is in.

Landry is a senior studying International Relations and Spanish at the University of Southern California. She’s committed to finding a job she’s passionate about and investing in relationships with women that will sharpen her. She hopes to one day be as much of a bad ass as the woman who raised her.


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