Dress Like A Rah
It’s my story of androgyny and it’s my song of being the best version of myself.

Trying to describe yesterday, an experience I never thought I would have, means diving into 27 years of my life. It’s just a suit, you might say, but it’s not. It’s so much more than a suit. It’s 27 years of waiting for this suit.
Here is what I can do: I can tell you how many shades of blue my eyes absorbed and how 9-year-old me, 18-year-old me and now 27-year-old me came together to celebrate a body I never thought I would like.



Let’s begin here with the logistics. Brooklyn, NY. A speakeasy-like address nestled into a neighborhood with less noise than the rest of the city and no signs to point to where you need to go.
We arrived on time to Bindle And Keep and it felt like walking into someone’s comfy living room as soon as I walked in.

I never knew so many shades of blue existed. I didn’t know what herringbone meant. I didn’t know having a preference on collar would matter, either.
Daniel, the owner of B&K, walked me through every detail for my suit; asking questions to help lead me to decide just exactly how I wanted to wear it and what I wanted to look like while wearing it but, most of all, he asked me who I was.
He didn't blinked twice when I mentioned how I like to dress, where I shopped, what binder or bra I preferred.
Underneath the talk surrounding my suit, he was actually walking me through a life step I never knew I would have the courage to take.

Six-year-old me sat at a table swimming in swatches that I thought only successful business men were allowed to consider. The room went silent, my world paused, my mind slowed when I took it in that:
“I’m actually doing this”.
I’m getting married and I want to wear a suit on my wedding day. Therefore, I am making a suit for my body. A body that doesn’t fit into what women are expected to wear on their wedding day but still wants to be a bride and look amazing and comfortable and confident and…me.

When you go to a suit consultation you have to make more decisions than you would usually make in one day. It’s a lot.
You pick your pockets, your suit lining, your button stitching, your pant pocket placement, your everything.
Sixteen-year-old indecisive and quiet me stood outside of my body, likely in basketball shorts, and took each choice to heart.
Every yes and every no was me letting the room know that I am confident in my style to know what I want to put on to the body that I have.
And that is a place I didn’t know I could get to.
I’m the 27-year-old female who dresses Masculine-Of-Center (also known as, male gender expression) who also skateboards and owns roller skates and plays dress up everyday for work by piecing together items from both the menswear department at Macy’s and the women’s section at H&M. All my exhaustion from jumping store to store to try and “make it work” took a break today. And that felt really nice.



For kids who don’t belong in a certain clothing section of a store, the gender labels can be a trigger for anxiety. Our society has structured us to turn to one part of the store instead of allowing us to shop for our human shapes. In college, I began sifting through the sale section of stores like Forever21 and Goodwill to find shirts that didn’t cling to me…and that meant venturing to the men’s section. It was freeing to finally leave women’s clothing and find security in shirts with longer sleeves, but it came with a lot of shame.
I never liked to shop with other people because I was embarrassed to say where I got my sweaters from. I wanted to be invisible. I hardly looked a cashier in the eye when I checked out and made purchases.


I grew out of these fears once I recognized androgyny is a word for myself and I embraced my friends reactions as they would shrug their shoulders and say “cool, looks great on you.”
The world became less of a full court press when I decided to not be on the defense when I said out loud: “I shop in all sections of stores.”
There was a time when I would get defensive when folks would accidentally call me “sir”, but these days I have let my fists relax because I trust myself to not let the outside world break me down. I don’t fit into society’s cookie cutter gender stereotypes and I am, currently, the best version of myself.

My appointment for my first suit was my fashion and gender journey joining together. It paralleled in importance with my memory of walking out into the world wearing a bow tie for the first time. It was shopping in the men’s section for the first time. It was me, as a kid, refusing to wear a tutu to ballet class and instead wearing basketball shorts for the first time. It was me in my first pair of oxfords, it was me deciding to never wear a dress to a wedding again, it was chopping off all my hair and crying when I first looked in the mirror.
All of these first experiences, they were the peeling away of layers, painting myself into the masterpiece I am today.
It’s my story of androgyny and it’s my song of being the best version of myself.
From the first day of its life, this suit will be 27-years-loaded with memories, experience, and importance. But it’s my suit and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

Thank you Daniel, for taking my butt measurements with such class.
Thank you to my friend, Carrie, who will always be my “hey, let me run this idea by you” person.
Thank you to my Heather, Sallie’s other mom and my number one. You are and always will be the largest part of my heart.

To celebrate: we had coffee and carbs together. Thanks for the best eggs benedict ever, Brooklyn. And thank you God for the sunshine and cooler temperatures for such a memorable day.
To all the other Rahs — it gets better. So much better.
