Coming Out as Genderqueer

Today is National Coming Out Day and it seems prudent at this point to take another step in being open and honest with all the people in my life. I’ve been openly identifying as genderqueer or genderfluid for several months now, at school and otherwise but there’s plenty of people, especially family back home, who haven’t been privy to it. As such, today I’m choosing to do my best to more openly proclaim this to people at large.

I am not currently using different pronouns, though it’s still an issue under consideration. My lack of doing so should not be taken as a sign that I don’t entirely support those who do, as part of their gender identity, feel inclined to do so. I totally and unabashedly support anyone’s wants and needs to live as themselves but for right now, pronouns aren’t feeling like part of that for me.

I’d also like to use this opportunity to explain where I’m coming from on this. I know that to many gender non-conforming identities are often seen as either confusing or a trendy misnomer. It shouldn’t be taken that because of my belief about this for myself that I don’t think people exist who have a reasonably defined binary gender identity. This isn’t about everyone, it’s about me and how I am and have felt. As such, let me explain a bit of that, starting with a few examples.

I remember a time in Elementary School where there was a Boys against Girls game being played. The girls were at the top of an elaborate slide built in our playground and I climbed to the top. I asked if I could be on their team because I liked them more than the boys. They said no, logically enough. If I recall, I chose to sit out the game.

Another time, in my senior year of High School, I volunteered myself to play a drag performer character in a production of ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead’. I remember pretty distinctly being given a frilly pink dress. I was pretty excited in concept to get it but actually putting it on was, in retrospect, one of the happier moments of my school experience. That it was something that people didn’t particularly gawk or make fun of me for, given the context, certainly helped. But it also felt significantly freeing.

Later on, in my twenties, I was hanging around a lady friend’s house that I frequented at the time. They had people over for a party and for whatever reason she and another of my female friends asked if they could put me in a dress and make-up. I was game for it, and excited, really. But when it came to pass the dress didn’t especially fit and the make-up ended up intentionally a little garish. I remember being a little off-put. My memory has me saying that I wished I looked prettier (but it’s entirely possible that was just my thought).

All of these are pretty standard trans narratives one might hear. They go along with the way the story is told in magazine articles or flashbacks on a TV program like ‘Transparent’. The problem with that, for me, is that I don’t think of myself as transgender — at least not in the binary male to female sense. (It’s open to debate whether ‘binary to non-binary’ is, in an of itself a ‘transition’ and while, there’s a fair argument to be made, I tend to side with allowing transition and transgender to be categories of (A)MtF and (A)FtM individuals, if just by way of common usage)

I could give examples of how I am comfortable with my maleness, I suppose. The problem is that so many of them end up quantifying the binary gender expectations that are placed on people from birth. One of the primary struggles of coming to the conclusions I have is shaking the idea that, by being myself, I was not merely subverting gender expectations for a boy — I was, in a sense, no longer merely being a boy.

I can understand if someone were to say that that is an option. And perhaps it is. In fact — it’s an option I took for the past several decades of my life. But, of late, I have been exploring other options.

As seen in the earlier anecdotes, there are plenty of small origins of my current gender non-conformity feelings. The latest, though, probably came when I took a recent job in a factory setting. I hadn’t really ever felt gender dysphoria — the sense that your gender does not match the one you are assigned and presenting as. And yet, as I stood there, flipping over packages, hearing about college football and, honestly, some heinous homophobic banter, it really hit me as hard as it ever had — I am not this.

It’s interesting the timing of this. As I write this, timed to coincide with ‘National Coming Out Day’, the item all over the news is Donald Trump’s leaked video — ‘locker room talk’, he calls it and ‘frank descriptions of intent to commit sexual assault’ may be the more reasonable thing to say of it. Regardless, there is a narrative that ‘good men’ reject that sort of talk. And for a long time, I really just thought of myself as that: a good man.

I think that was a large part of my hesitancy. I didn’t want to surrender manliness to the toxic, broken bro-culture. I wanted to model feminist valued masculinity and be a good example of the sort of people that I think are being described when people talk about so-called ‘good men’. And these people exist, for sure. I would never make a blanket statement condemning men, especially in consideration that I am still, even if more partly, identifying as one.

But a good man wasn’t all I wanted to be. For a long time I have striven for the acceptance of women. It’s really easy to see this through the guise of heterosexual male interest. And regardless of gender identity, I am attracted to female identified or appearing people predominantly. But it goes deeper than that. The anecdote I started this off with has never really changed — I wanted to be on the girl’s team. I just liked them more. But more than that — I fed more happily on feminine energy than on the masculine energy that I more often was given more readily.

It always struck me odd that it is seen as a homosexual interest to be friends with women. I was asked at various times in my youth, by both parents, among others, if I was gay. It seemed an odd question: the premise seemed to concern itself with the idea that I preferred the company of women and, as such, perhaps I would prefer the intimate company of men. I rejected the idea and may have, on some level internalized a want to avoid the conversation — one that kept coming up, even as it was untrue.

Some years ago my brother (who, as assigned at birth was, to that point considered my sister) came out as trans. It started a thought process in my own mind, knowing myself and the experiences (more numerous, of course than those I shared earlier) and feelings. I recall thinking that of the two of us, I was probably the one who seemed more prototypical for transition. And yet, it didn’t seem right.

There was some confusion and frustration at first, from several corners, about his transition. Some of this was just interpersonal dynamics being upended, in some respects but some of it felt more abstract. I think, now, that it is possible I was a little mad at him. The idea that he had lived his life as a girl and was rejecting it, while I’d lived my life wanting that acceptance into those circles left me feeling a bit miffed.

Around that same time, I had a few more experiences, big and small, that were on my mind. I had a persistent meta fantasy in my head, listening to music, over a course of months. I was picturing myself as the front person of a cover band where the concept was a male identified person singing songs sung by women. If I recall, there was some gender bending expression in the concept, beyond the framework. So, for months, I was walking around, listening to music, imagining myself this male identified, female dressed front person of a band that only performed music by women. As things became clearer, that seemed like… well, something anyway.

Also, I took a college class on short stories. The end project of the entire semester was to write one, fairly long (20 pages or so) short story. From the word go, I felt like it was a given that I’d write about a girl or a woman. That had been my personal go-to for years — I rarely, when asked to write fiction ever chose a male narrator. When asked why, I recall having said that I often wrote from experience and that if I were to give myself a male narrator, well, the actions may just not make sense.

That was the case years earlier as well. We’d gone through a health class talking about rape, wherein a teacher told a story of being sexually assaulted. I was moved by it, though it seemed like the rest of the class mostly sat on their hands. I began work on a short story about rape and while I’m sure it was clumsy, it was something that was discovered on a computer (that for reasons I won’t go into, I was given by the school) that I was using. I got sent to a guidance counselor, largely because the main character attempted suicide in it. She knew me well enough that she didn’t think it was a major concern herself and let me go. I don’t recall gender having really come up there, though. A predictable missed opportunity, perhaps.

But in this college class, I instead wrote about a cross cultural pair of women — one a young teen, obsessed with 60s and 70s culture and the other an older woman, who had lived through it. I remember the main critique I was given by my peers being that they couldn’t believe how well and authentically I’d written female characters, along with a sense of small scale disbelief that I’d chosen a cross generational story of women as my main project.

It’s possible that in this text, thus far, I have focused too clearly on the feminine aspect and not on the masculine. Perhaps this is because, by deign of my assigned gender, maleness is nothing I’ve ever needed to prove. Or, at least, not by any manner other than those regulated by masculinity. But it still becomes important, in defining myself, to give some explanation as to why I am not just floating on the binary line.

For one thing, to be less distinctly thoughtful about it than perhaps I’ve been otherwise: I wore a beard or mustache for years without ever finding it something that misgendered me or felt false. In fact, there were times when people, invariably women, thought I should shave and I didn’t wish to.

This speaks to the larger point. I don’t deny my anatomy. While I know not every trans-person had gender confirmation surgery and many live with their assigned genitalia, I still find this to be a useful tool (pun, abundantly non-intended) in gender definition for me. I think I’d be entirely happy to have been born in a different body with different physical characteristics but the one I have is the one I feel I am. I feel no distance between myself and my body. Any dysphoria felt around men or desire to be among women has been a mental and emotional one, not a physical one.

Here’s the thing. Gender is messy. As someone who can’t even put themselves in the pre-ordained categories, I understand this. And so — my definitions of who I am and I why I think that is so may not jibe with yours. You are free to think that if you felt the way I did, that you’d see yourself as a non-traditional man, as a trans woman or any number of other identities. For me, as it stands, I’m going with gender non-conforming, with sides of genderqueer and perhaps most of all genderfluid.

In keeping with this, I’ve been altering my gender presentation a lot of late. It started with painting my nails some, which was fun. It continued with playing with my hair, as well as doing some body hair removal. I’ve experimented with more feminine manners of dress, from wearing colors and articles more associated with women to, on a rare occasion something like a dress or a skirt. So far that’s been fun. And yet, there are days I feel more at home with just defaulting to my boy clothes too. And the identity I’ve built for myself allows all of those things and celebrates them.

A lot of this is made possible by my current circumstances. I am going to a progressive college, in a college town and, in focusing on my studies, I’m not actively working or seeking work. As such, I feel open to present myself in any way I see fit and have found a fair amount of support for those actions. I’m also able to do things like take classes that present interesting and dynamic ideas about gender and orientation, that allow me to better understand myself and the societal forces surrounding these concepts.

Coming out today, sadly, does not mean there may not be moments in the future, that for safety or for the sake of not being denied such things as work, that I may have to be closeted about this in the future. And that is a shame and something that, as a culture, I believe needs to be addressed and changed. Hopefully, by being open and honest about this, I will do some small part in making that change.

But most of all, for right now: I am happy and content. This isn’t to say that I don’t think about it a lot and consider it daily. But I feel like I have been proactive in doing something to work toward a more full understanding of myself. And I feel good, whole and energized by this change.

Even as this is a long, involved document — it is, as well, not the full story. The full story would include every moment, action and thought I’ve had on the subject and, well, we haven’t time for that. And honestly, I do welcome further conversation and considerations people may have. But let me be clear: this is my choice and it’s one made with a good deal of consideration and care. As much as the subject may seem ‘trendy’ or an attempt to be different or interesting, or any number of other dismissive concepts that may be thrown my way for this choice — it’s also one that involves a fair amount of me putting myself in situations, even within an accepting community, for condemnation, violence and harassment. It’s not something I would choose to do if it wasn’t important to my self conception, and I ask, even if you wish to converse about it, that you accept that.

Some of you already know this, or parts of it, at least. For others this may come as new information. Perhaps, for others, they’ll be reading this and not know me at all — I am publishing this on the internet, after all. To any or all of you — I welcome your support, am glad to start a conversation if one is needed and I look forward to being able to present myself as, more than ever, my genuine self.