What's big, hairy and wears high heels?
By R.M. Monk
February 27, 2009 | Question: What's big, hairy
and wears high heels? Answer: Me in drag.
Last semester for a gender and media class I dolled
up my 200-pound, 6-foot-4 (6'7" in heels)
body for a presentation on "Sex and the City."
I was Samantha.
On Tuesday, March 3, 11:00 to 1:00 p.m. on the TSC patio,
the Women and Gender Studies program is hosting a retro
bake sale to raise money for student-planned, campus-wide
activities, such as the "Reinventing
Barbie Bash". I'll be attending the sale, this
time as June Cleaver.
Hopefully, there'll be a better public reaction
than the last time I put on the ritz in public.
A week before the class presentation, a friend and I
shopped at the only place we could think to find a cheap
dress that could fit me: Deseret Industries The experience
was rather uneventful, I must say. The staff was surprisingly
helpful, by staying clear out of the way. The only bad
thing to happen was for when I found out I'm a
size eighteen—the same size as my mother!
The real turmoil started when we went shoe shopping.
You see, the D.I. didn't carry women's shoes
for a size thirteen foot—who knew? So, the closest
place to find something that would fit was the Payless
shoe store… in the Provo Town Mall.
Leaving the blouse and pencil skirt in the car, we marched
right into Payless and asked the cashier where they
keep the doublewide pumps. The selection came down to
between boring-looking but well-fitting dull heels and
an alluring shiny black pair that was too small but
available in an extra-wide, which helped a little. In
the middle of this, two moms came in with their young
daughters. The kids, who were no more than 5-years old,
were fascinated that a boy was wearing heels and kept
staring at me. So I asked them which pair they thought
was the better look. Their moms said sexier was the
way to go so I dumped the dull pumps, rolled up my jeans
to Capri-level and wore my new kicks out. The new shoes
clicked against the tile with resounding confidence,
and for the first time, I was taller than my friend,
Now, it's one thing for little kids to stare at
something they've never seen before. It's
quite another when mature adults do it. I expected the
occasional giggle form passers-by. After all, a longhaired,
bearded man in heels is a little silly. What I didn't
expect were the hateful glares.
At first, the only people to notice were young women,
who would abruptly tug on their boyfriends' arms
and point in my direction and smile. Then it started
getting weird. When I got on the escalator, people started
whipping out their cell phones to take pictures of the
freak in heels, and every old Hispanic women I passed
gave me the evil eye, as if I were somehow offending
their female machismo by walking in heels just as well
as they. One person walked right up to me, stared as
if I were dressed as a Klan member, and walked away
in contempt. Hey, I wasn't hurting anybody. What
should they care?
My friend and I walked past two old short hicks wearing
cowboy hats. One of them uttered "faggot"
as I passed.
I was too shocked to realize I should have confronted
them. I mean, really? A mere dude in heels (who is straight
btw) gets this kind slur nowadays? I took solace in
the fact the rednecks had to whisper their hate. Maybe
they didn't want to start a scene, or maybe they
didn't want to risk getting a public beating from
the 6'7" man in heels. Either way, it was
then I was grateful to be in a group and not alone on
I know I shouldn't be too surprised at the thought,
but Utah Valley has long way to go.