Dressing like me

And ignoring the Male Gaze

I’ve spent a fair bit of time thinking about clothes recently - which is actually quite novel for this lass.

Since the pandemic, spending more time in a wheelchair,and particularly since coming out as queer, the way I dress has gradually changed. 5 years ago, I was a dresses and tights gal all the way, and I still have a wardrobe full of frocks I just can’t quite part with. But my partner has now moved in, we are a similar size with similar tastes and so we share a lot of clothes - she never really wears skirts or dresses, and now neither do I. I’ve moved happily into the world of jeans and a sarky logoed tee, indulging my love of supporting small women-led businesses whilst also being very convenient to pull on and go. If I need to be smart for work, I’ll dig out an un-ironed shirt, pull on a hand-knitted vest top (yes, I have made about 5 now, and was v smug to see they seem to have become a fashion ‘thing’).

I’ve cut all my hair off in the last year (much to my mother’s chagrin), and now wear make up only very infrequently, when I have a posh do or a tv appearance.

I pointed this transition out to my other half as we were downsizing our collective wardrobes to fit into our one bedroom, and she chuckled “it’s nice not to dress for the male gaze, huh?”. And I’ve been dwelling on that ever since.

My social circle has undoubtedly shrunk since the pandemic, and with it, the number of men I have regular contact with. I work with one, see some as patients, see my family, but that’s about it.

It’s not that I don’t dress up to look attractive anymore; but I seem less inclined to consider attractiveness via a lens of heteronormativity. The more I live in Lucy and Yak dungarees and boilersuits (very comfy, very easy to manage on wheels, no digging in waistlines - hit me up for a partnership, please!), the more I seem to fit in with the Queer community I see around me, and the more I feel seen by them. There is something really affirming by signaling my membership of a group whilst also being very comfortable. I’m a fan.

For Halloween, we dressed as Wednesday Addams (her) and Enid Sinclair (me). I needed fake nails (my allotmenting stumps were not going to look claw-like), and decided to try false eyelashes (with rainbow tips, obviously). Only one of us had a full blown temper tantrum struggling to falsify body parts - and yes, it was very much me. Performing ‘femininity’ took forever, was decidedly uncomfortable, and I was even worse at it after half a decade off.

I could barely wipe my own arse with the talons on, and She had to take out my contacts for me at the end of the night. How some women are able to live in these, I have no idea - I will fight for their right to do so if they choose, and they look great, but mine were off within 18 hours. I couldn’t hack them in the slightest.

Alongside my Queering has come a change in how I work - I’ve done a lot less media ‘stuff’ in the last year especially, to the point I lost my nerve. The final straw was turning up for a live radio chat via zoom, and finding I was staring into the face of Anne Widdecombe looking back at me. They had got her last minute, and decided not to warn me that I’d be debating women in politics with her. I was livid to be curveballed in this way, despite actually doing well in the debate, and found myself distrustful of the media for a long while after that, turning down pretty much everything I was offered.

But a few months ago, Steph’s Packed Lunch asked if I’d consider being one of their doctors - popping on occasionally to cover some news stories. They all seemed lovely, very supportive, and I’d heard great things about working with them. A show fronted by an openly Queer presenter, that I knew had other disabled contributors - that seemed like a safe bet.

It took a while to make it work, and I remained pretty terrified, but when they called me last minute on Monday night, asking if there was anyway I could do the following lunchtime - I decided to chance it.

The only issue was what to wear. I was there as a doctor, not ‘just’ as me. I tried on all combination of skirt, tights, shirts, waistcoats - but they all felt uncomfortable and stuffy. I looked in the mirror and didn’t see Me.

A few weeks back, I’d gone into clinic dressed more casually than normal - a multicoloured cord Lucy and yak boilersuit, and rainbow platform converse. I’d been teaching medical students that morning, and like to push their perceptions of what a doctor ‘should’ look like. As I sat in my clinic room, downing caffeine, a young person walked in; “Oh thank goodness” they said, audibly sighing with relief “I was so worried I’d get an old cis guy who didn’t like my Queerness”. We had a great consultation, and they left feeling supported and seen, and I remembered why I love having the roles I do.

So as I stumbled around my room in a state of undress, I grabbed that boilersuit. “Sod it. I’m doing this as me.”

And reader, I was on national tv, talking about Viagra, HRT and doctors Sexting, in my multi-coloured rainbow ensemble, sat in my wheelchair, comfortable and welcomed by a room full of media-types who all wanted to know where it was from. I didn’t look like the doctor I’d imagined I’d be when I started med school - all pencil skirts and kitten heels, clearly running half marathons at the weekends - but I felt like the doctor I want to be now, representing two communities I love and am proud to be a part of.

From the studio, I dashed down to London for a black tie event with many old friends, for which I wore a sparkly top which revealed a LOT of boob, and a skirt, whilst #Reviewer2 looked gorgeous in a suit. I’d found the sparkly ensemble in my wardrobe, and realised that I finally fitted in it, for the first time since I bought it at the beginning of the pandemic, and decided to make the most of it.

If my Insta comments are anything to go by, I looked good - but the second we got in the car to head home, a jumper was on, and that sequinned top was in the footwell of the passenger seat. I’d done my stint looking glam, I’d enjoyed it for a few hours (whilst simultaneously worrying I may flash someone senior from the medical profession) and was returning to comfort. I’ll keep her hung up in that wardrobe, but for now I’m back to jeans and rainbows for a bit.

Currently knitting: Yet another vest, this time for my Mum

Currently reading: Hysterical, by Dr Pragya Agarwal, ready to discuss with her at the Women’s Equality Party Conference this weekend.

This Substack remains free for now whilst I get going, but if you want to support my work, there’s always my KoFi page (thank you!): https://ko-fi.com/hannahpopsy