I use the word genderqueer for myself. On the rare occasion that I share this bit of personal information with someone who isn’t queer, the reaction usually falls into one of these categories:
- ‘What’s that?’
- ‘Is it like non-binary? You don’t look non-binary!’
- ‘😐’ (though, in fairness, in this country I get this reaction most of the time regardless of the subject).
But I’m not writing this post to shame or make fun of those who have never heard the word. Gender is not like, say, geography, where I (probably) can safely assume one has heard before what ‘Italy’ is and may even be able to find it on a map. Gender is different, and a lot of people do not know much about experiences outside the binary — or even about their own gender experience.
A romance of many dimensions
Are you familiar with the book ‘Flatland’? Written in 1884, it’s the story of a two-dimensional world inhabited by geometric figures such as circles, squares, triangles and other regular polygons. Through the story, the novella explores concepts of perception and multiple dimensions.
There’s a part of the book where Square, one of the polygons, envisions Lineland, a one-dimensional world where only two motions are possible.
Square tries to explain the existence of a second dimension to the monarch of Lineland, but the monarch is too bewildered to grasp the concept. To him, the idea of a two-dimensional world is absurd and incomprehensible.
Similarly, Flatlanders find it nearly impossible to imagine what a third dimension looks and feels like, and Square’s attempts to convince his peers end in frustration (and worse).
Back to gender
The gendered experience, and gender queerness, feel more or less the same to some of us.
Many people think about the idea of ‘manhood’ and ‘womanhood’ like some version of Lineland. For some, it’s either/or: one can be a manly man or a womanly woman. Other people leave room for something ‘in between’ — being a ‘feminine’ man, a ‘masculine’ girl, perhaps even a perfect ‘in-betweener’. The way the mainstream media portray these identities may suggest that all non-binary people are somewhere along that line.
But that’s not how many of us live and express ourselves. Gendered experiences can exist in many dimensions. Rather than being in a place on a line, my ‘coordinates’ are (x; y; z…). There’s the way I present, from the clothes I wear to my hairstyle and even my posture. There’s the way I speak: my inflection, my choice of words, my manners. There’s the way I experience society: my sense of belonging, my community, ‘my people’. For some of these dimensions I fall on one end of a spectrum; for some other I land on another. Some don’t really look spectrum-y to me at all. How could I assign these to a simple ‘man’ or ‘woman’ category?
These differences can become even more distinct in those of us who are immigrants and people of mixed heritage, as our gendered experience is even more layered — due to cultural background and the different ways ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ are perceived in different cultures.
I am large. I contain multitudes.
What’s in a word?
The word ‘genderqueer’ is a useful term to summarise all of this. It’s a way to make sense of my inner world, the way many words do for the outside world, and to connect with the fact that what I am is valid and defined — even if I don’t fall neatly into one of two, or three, better-known categories. Even if it can get confusing to some. Even if I get misgendered more often than not. Even if the lives of openly queer and gender-diverse people are under threat every day.
Things don’t go very well in the Flatland universe (massive spoilers ahead): the King of Lineland tries to kill Square for his ‘nonsense’, Square can’t convince anyone in his native Flatland of the existence of a 3-D world, and eventually the Flatland government makes it illegal to talk about it.
Luckily, our world is nothing like Flatland… or is it?
