Gendering Me

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I’ve been trying for a couple of weeks to write this blog post. For those close to me or even just on my Facebook, you know I came out as non-binary. For some time now, and honestly, I’m not really sure when was the start, I have thought about the weirdness that is gender. The vagueness of gender experience. What does it mean to be male or female or neither or both or somewhere in between?

Honestly, the words to describe myself still haven’t come to me. I’m still mother to my children. I’m now spouse to my wife. I am they/their/them and sometimes she/her/hers. I’m femme. I’m genderfluid. I’m greygender. Or maybe I’m genderqueer. I am all these things but can’t exactly pinpoint why or how.

I know one day I experience dysphoria with body parts and other days euphoria. I know my hair is my treasure and my culture and is genderless. I know my clothes are men’s business casual. I know I have intense dysphoria wearing makeup, and it’s often why I don’t put it on to present until minutes before I walk into the room. I know a tie makes me feel empowered and myself. So does a binder, except when it doesn’t.

I’ve never quite understood many things women talk about when they’re with other women. I’ve never felt like I was a very good woman, but it’s clear it’s because I’m not. When my wife started transitioning, I said it, “Well, we’ve never really had traditional roles in our marriage.” We really don’t. Caretaker, I am, but homemaker, I’m not. I’m a fixer. I’m not a shoulder to cry on. I’m direct. I’m submissive. I am empathetic. And for years, I thought maybe it’s because I’m Autistic that some of these roles didn’t come naturally, and others did. But as I became more and more honest with myself, it’s clear that this is the intersection of my neurology and my gender.

The amazing people who simultaneously came up with the concept of neuroqueer… This is where I lie.

Photo by davidstewartgets

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