Living Beyond the Binary

July 14th was International Non-Binary People's Day and heralded this year's Non-Binary Awareness Week. It's a time to celebrate and honor all those living outside the gender binary around the world. The term non-binary itself is a large umbrella that covers a variety of identities and labels that express a whole range of gender non-conformity and/or genderfluidity.

I happen to be one of those people at home in the shade of the non-binary umbrella. A journey of self-reflection, education, & self-discovery led me to where I am today. To honor the spirit of this week, I'd like to share my own personal coming out story & what it means, to me, to be non-binary.

2018: The Epiphany 💡

My relationship with my assigned gender at birth (as tied to my assigned sex at birth) has always been contentious. I was raised as a girl in the 90's/00's with segregated pink-and-blue toy aisles, shallow pop feminism, and whitewashed suburban histories. From an early age, I rebuked anything pink. Even raised by egalitarian parents, the misogyny ambient in American society impressed upon me that anything pink & feminine was weak, lesser, and frivolous. I balked at being put in dresses like the frilly white "bridal" outfit for my First Communion. The only label that seemed pertinent for me at the time was "tomboy" even though I wasn't particularly interested in or adept at sports. For years, I wore the tomboy badge with pride as I chose black skater shoes (I did not skateboard), rock band t-shirts, & jeans over cute sneakers, feminine tops, & skirts.

Over time, I slowly learned to recognize the internalized misogyny that discomfited me so. I worked to reclaim pink as just one color of many. I had to confront prejudices I had of women who enjoyed "girly things" and I had to work at seeing girlhood and womanhood as a complex, multi-faceted experience that went far beyond the surface-level understandings espoused by advertisers, outdated sexist education, & toxic religious conservatism.

But nothing really makes you confront gendered existence like a marriage does!

In 2018, I was handfasted & married to the love of my life, Pat. Immediately, I found myself recoiling at the various Mr. & Mrs. iconography everywhere. Pointedly, we kept such gendered titles absent from our ceremony and event. I enjoyed wearing the wedding dress of my choice after having spent years reevaluating my relationship with feminine fashions (further complicated by being a fat person). However, the discomfort of the expectations of wife continued to seep into my subconscious. Much like my parents, I had an egalitarian relationship with my partner. But that didn't stop the onslaught of societal pressures from squeezing me relentlessly.

Later that year, I came across the term non-binary for the first time:

An epiphany rocked my dopamine-starved, neurospicy brain. The itching ache that accompanied my assigned gender began to change focus. I started to examine my own personal relationship with gender as clarity regarding gender identity and expression came into focus. One night, as my newlywed husband came home with dinner, I told him: "I might not be a woman. Or, at least, not a cis one..."

He nodded, gave me a big hug, and—together—we had a long conversation. We each continued to educate ourselves over time. (To this day, I must express my sincere love and gratitude to my partner for his unwavering support. I am so deeply lucky to have him and I wish every queer person had their own version of him in their life.) Eventually, I began to do various gender worksheets and journaling. I was able to speak to an insurance-covered therapist. Quietly, to only myself, my partner, and our closest best friend, I began to say, "I'm non-binary."

Each time I asserted this, a little spark of joy fizzled in my heart.

2019: The Soft-Launch of Gender (or, Opening the Closet) 🚪

Like most queer folks, I was very nervous about coming out. I'd come out of the closet as bisexual back in high school—but coming out about my gender identity felt different. At first, I shared with some friends and family that I considered myself a "non-binary womxn" and would accept "she/they" pronouns. This was true of how I felt in the moment. I was tentatively dipping a toe in gender diversity.

A question I got several times during this period: why not just expand the definition of "woman"? Why leave the label; why rebuff your assigned sex, instead of reforming expectations of it? I wondered myself: am I just returning to old nodes of internalized misogyny & seeking escape from being woman? From being cisgender?

An intrusive thought wriggled itself here—if you're more or less comfortable in your body, if you don't really plan on transitioning any sort of bodily or aesthetic presentation besides stated gender identity, why seek being non-binary at all?

The answer that slowly materialized over time is that, for me, discovering the non-binary gender identity & label didn't indicate a goal to aspire to so much as a vocabulary word I always needed to define how I see myself. I was never comfortable in women-only spaces. I was often fine with certain femme fashions (in part because I learned how to dress a fat, curvy femme body and moving on from that knowledge base is scary). The gender binary itself always irked me. It wasn't just my frustration with historical patriarchy or misogyny; it was my innate contempt for the very idea that a fundamental aspect of our Selves was determined by whichever reproductive bits 'n bobs Nature happened to bless (or curse) you with.

That summer, my spouse and I attended FLX (Finger Lakes of NYS) Pride at the Lakefront Park on the edge of Seneca Lake in Geneva, NY. It was a gorgeous June day and the sunshine made the colorful, lively festival all the brighter. Pat bought me a lovely pronoun pin with a spinner that could alternative between she/her and they/them pronouns, depending on how I felt at the time! (He/him was also available for genderfluid folks who embraced masculine pronouns as well.) The all-ages outdoor drag performances were fun, heartfelt, and validating, with queens, kings, and things uplifting joy & resilience in the community.

It was the first time I publicly presented as non-binary. I will be forever grateful to FLX Pride for providing a space that felt safe and welcoming for someone like myself that, at the time, was in the vulnerable questioning phase of gender identity & discovery.

2020: Life Beyond the Binary 📚

During the Covid-19 lockdown (or as I like to call it: the year I put 500 hours into Animal Crossing: New Horizons), I managed to get accepted into a graduate program for creative writing at SUNY Binghamton. This also meant that my master's program would have to be done virtually instead of the traditional in-person courses.

It ended up being an excellent experience in spite of the global pandemic. I decided that I would present myself authentically as non-binary and I exclusively went by they/them pronouns. Doing so introduced me to the unfortunate malaise of being misgendered; however, it also showcased how so many folks out there, of ALL ages, are good-hearted & doing their best. My various professors and peers all welcomed me sincerely. Any hiccup in pronouns was addressed without drama. In fact, I discovered that some people were far too harsh on themselves for making a mistake. (Which, at the extreme, ends up with the queer person having to coddle cisgendered feelings at the expense of their own discomfort. If you ever accidentally misgender someone, simply correct yourself and move on. If necessary, a very quick 'sorry' preceding the correction is fine. Most of all, though, queer folks really don't want you going on a self-flagellating tangent. Just correct and move on.)

Each time I heard someone use they/them for me, I felt lighter. Freer. It was like weights I hadn't known were tied to me had suddenly come loose.

The ways I had always seen myself, as someone whose personhood is not defined nor constrained by sex or gender, was finally recognized in the world around me.

I was experiencing a slice of gender euphoria.

I slowly tried experimenting with fashion a little more. The modifications I wanted to do to my body were non-surgical in nature: hair cuts, tattoos, piercings, etc. Even so, any sort of aesthetic desire ultimately informs a sort of gender affirming practice. This is true of cisgender as well as transgender people.

As a fat femme, I knew (and know) I have a body that gets clocked and gendered a certain way. Being non-binary hasn't erased my understanding of binary, gendered thinking. (That's impossible to do in our current society.) I didn't want to lean masculine in order to try and perform androgyny. I wasn't looking to really look any certain way, other than wear clothes I liked and found comfortable.

The point of identifying as non-binary, of being non-binary, was the wholesale refusal to live my life in a way prescribed for me by antiquated notions of sexed gender roles. I simply want to exist in the body Nature has given me in a way that maximizes my joy and comfort during my time on this Earth. The details of that body's functions belong only to me, my health care provider, and my life partner. Rather than being asked to expand the boundaries of a label assigned to me at birth, I seek instead to question the notion of such binary labeling altogether.

When I graduated with my master's degree in December 2021, just as college courses moved back onto a masked-up, socially distanced campus, I found myself at ease in my queerness. I was proud of the work I'd done to complete my graduate program over three semesters. I was proud of myself for showing up authentically in spite of my social anxiety disorder. It wasn't easy—but for me, it was worth it.

2023: A Queer Homecoming 🏳️‍🌈

The rent is too damn high and a 6+ hour drive between my then-home in Ithaca, NY to my family in Dracut, MA (as well as my genuinely wonderful NH-based in-laws) became conjoined problems that offered a single solution: move back in with my parents, along with my spouse and our two cats.

This wasn't ideal, but it was what needed to happen.

Returning home at age 30 doesn't feel great. But when a housing and job market is as volatile as the one here in America, it's a phenomenon that has become more common and understandable.

After living in the Finger Lakes region for a little over a decade, I was returning to the Merrimack Valley. My childhood home had to reconfigure into a home where I was now "housemates" with my parents, rather than their dependent only child.

I missed Ithaca dearly (and still do). It's a gorgeous little city (a city that's several hundred people smaller than Dracut, surprisingly) with a politically active community focused on inclusion. Coming back to Dracut now, I recognized that I was raised in a more conservative pocket of "true blue Massachusetts" than I had realized. Suddenly, I found myself a bit more worried about being out as non-binary. I refused to return to the closet, however; it felt simultaneously disingenuous to my self and to others.

At first, my parents struggled to gender me correctly. However, the most important thing is that they continued trying. My mum and dad corrected themselves as needed and kept practicing. I know how hard it is to break a habit decades-in-the-making. I have nothing but patience and respect for them. Once again, parental support is shown to be so incredibly vital to queer mental health. (In this case, mine!) Even if they didn't quite "understand" non-binary identity, they understood that it's deeply meaningful to me and thus extended respect to their adult, queer offspring(/housemate).

To this day, they might make an error here or there. But I know that it's a mistake made accidentally and not an indication of malicious intent. (I love you, Mum & Dad!) Thanks to their efforts & support—alongside that of my partner—home became a safe sanctuary space once more.

2025: The Bittersweet Joy of Authenticity ❤️‍🩹

I feel comfortable in my identity; it's the discomfort offered by an increasingly cruel world that gives bitterness.

August 1st of this year will mark the one year anniversary of my first day as a part-time Assistant Reference Librarian at the Dracut Public Library. It has been a dream job so far, and one I really look forward to continuing. I've always loved libraries, and being able to work at one and help serve the community feels deeply rewarding. I was open about my non-binary identity with my workplace the moment I was hired. It was nerve-wracking, honestly. I didn't know how it would be received, and I especially didn't want my queerness being perceived as a hurdle to professionally overcome. Even though the Commonwealth has anti-discrimination laws in place to protect LGBTQ+ workers, there are still a myriad of ways in which queer folks are othered, marginalized, or ignored in professional settings. Thankfully, it soon became apparent that I was accepted authentically by library admins & staff. The effort made to include me and make me feel welcome was a drastic difference to past jobs I've had that felt isolating and dehumanizing. (That's retail for you!🙃)

To walk and be in the world as my authentic self feels right. Even with the various baggages it comes with—the routine discomfort of being accidentally misgendered; the challenge of navigating a healthcare system designed for binary, cisgendered patients; the validity of my Personhood being debated by politicians; the stigma yet clinging to queerness—I don't want to go back into that closet.

That space where my assigned gender felt like a constricting wool sweater, itchy and sweltering.

A place of confusion and shame, lacking the vocabulary to articulate how I saw myself and how I wished to move through the world.

A metaphorical nook where I harmed myself to try and contort into conformity for the comfort of others rather than my own.

A dark cranny mired in the musty, suffocating gender binary crafted by Western European imperialism & colonial rule.

A corner of self-deception & self-loathing, haunted by intrusive thoughts that undermine each step towards self-love & self-actualization.

When I left the closet of my cisgendered womanhood, I did not do so to feel special or get attention or escape misogyny. (Misogyny cannot be escaped; it must be understood, confronted, and deconstructed. That is the only way forward towards gender equity.) I did so to step into myself. I closed the closet door behind me in order to exist openly as the queer person I have always been.

When I got my gender marker updated to X on my Massachusetts driver's license, a little flare of gender euphoria warmed me again. Being able to answer questions both honestly and accurately about myself on official documents feels right. (It is also a decision I did not make lightly.)

To live openly and visibly as a non-binary person is challenging at times, but never as draining as it was to be in that cramped closet.

All I want for myself and for all gender diverse people is the chance to live authentically in the world; to pursue a life of love & meaning; to work and play and provide and serve and celebrate in joy & safety.

It's why I started Rainbow Dracuteers. It's why I wish to be visible so that others like me can see there is a life of happiness and support out there for them. It's why I vigorously fight to protect youth, families, and elders in the LGBTQIA2S+ community.

It's why I wrote this memoir-inspired post sharing my coming-out story. It's why I creatively opened the vulnerable vein to my thoughts & experiences on gender, queerness, and life. This is only one example of a non-binary life; enbies of color, AMAB enbies, & disabled enbies will have different life experiences and views of gender. One of the wonderful things about being non-binary is just how beautifully diverse we are!

To all my non-binary siblings: regardless of your AGAB, your aesthetic, your pronouns, your body, or your presentation, you are valid & worthy & enough. Masculine, feminine, androgynous, or some blend of expression...there is no one way to "look non-binary" & whatever manner you like expressing yourself is authentic. May you move through the world in happiness & good health!

Have a wonderful 2025 Non-binary Awareness Week~

Want to support the non-binary folks in your life? Checkout these resources!

Guide to Being An Ally to Trans and Nonbinary People {PFLAG}

Allyship Beyond the Basics: Personal Pronouns and Why They Matter {PFLAG}

10 ways to step up as an ally to non-binary people {Stonewall UK}