Are such garments typical of this place?
“Are such garments typical of this place?” I asked.
“Does Mistress mean,” asked the girl, “that here sexual differences are clearly marked by clothing, that here sexual differences are important and not blurred, that men and women dress differently here?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “The answer is ‘Yes,’ Mistress.”
“Sexuality is important here, then?” I said.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said. “Here sexuality is deeply and fundamentally important, and here women are not men, and men are not women. The sexes are quite different, and here each is true to itself.”
“Oh,” I said.
“By means of different garbs, then,” she said, “it is natural that these important and fundamental differences be marked, the garbs of men being appropriate to their nature, for example, to their size and strength, and those of women to their nature, for example, to their softness and beauty.”
“I see,” I said. I was a bit frightened. In this place, I gathered, the fact that I was a woman was not irrelevant to what I was. That I was a woman was, I gathered, at least in this place, something fundamentally important about me. This fact would be made clear about me even by the clothing which I wore. I glanced at the wardrobe. Deceit and subterfuge, I suspected, were not in those fabrics. They were such, I suspected, as would mark me as a woman and even proclaim me as such. How would I fare in such a place, I wondered, where it might be difficult to conceal or deny my sex. How terrified I was at the thought that I might have to be true to my sex, that I might have little choice here but to be what I was, a woman, and wholly. I looked in the mirror. That is what I am here, I thought, a woman.
Kajira of Gor, p. 81-82