I won’t start this by claiming that I knew I wasn’t a girl since I was a child, because that would be a blatant lie on my behalf. I was your average kid who was raised Christian and was particularly devout to the Virgin Mary. I was always dressed up in stereotypically girly clothes, courtesy of family presents over the years, and my mother would always make sure that I went to school with some elaborate hairstyle. My family encouraged me to play the violinーa very elegant instrumentー and to take ballet lessons. Looking back, my childhood was generic in a privileged way. I was allowed to choose my extracurriculars after that and always lived comfortably. Violin and ballet practice was the norm for a few years until I quit ballet to take up volleyball. There were some complaints from certain family members, but alas, they couldn’t stop me from running to the grimy school volleyball court after class was finally over for the day. In terms of physical activity, traditional femininity was already being thrown aside by that point.
Around the ninth grade, I had more exposure to the Internet and realized that I had some things in common with the queer community. For starters, I figured out that I definitely wasn’t straight when I thought to myself “What would happen if I tried to comfort my friend by kissing her?” Soon after, I learned about bisexuality and believed that this was a good label for me, accompanied by aromanticism. Though it was mildly short-lived, given that I struggled to pick whether to call myself an aromantic bisexual or just pansexual, I also dove into trans culture. I was a little surprised when I learned that some people (like myself) didn’t feel comfortable living as the gender they had been raised as. Truth be told, I even asked my grandmother if she had any fabrics that fit certain criteria to try and make myself a binder from scratch. She didn’t… and then she asked me what I wanted it for, and I just said that it was for no reason. It’s not like I could just tell my ultra-religious grandma who seemed to have a penchant for homophobia that I wasn’t quite the little granddaughter she thought I was.
After that, I started to bind using two sports bras I had. Seeing how they made my chest look was truly an eye-opening experience for me. It just helped to confirm the things I’d been feeling for a couple of months and it made me happy, to say the least. During the course of the year, I came out to my close friends and to two of my cousins, who also wound up being queer and some of my biggest supporters. Slowly, I bought some more masculine clothes and started incorporating them into my wardrobe outside of my catholic school. I felt the need to present my queerness in the way that I dressed, even going so far as to ask my mom if I could go get a pixie haircut (yes, I did manage to get the haircut, but only after I graduated from high school).
Nowadays, I don’t feel as pressured to present masculine/androgynous all the time because I’ve accepted that my attire doesn’t take away from my identity as a non-binary person. However, that didn’t stop me from crying when I tried on my first binder, it didn’t dampen the gender euphoria that washed over me. Tears were shed as I profusely thanked my cousin for the purchase time and time again, and I will continue to be grateful as long as I live. Even with my binder and my masculine clothing, though, I still question myself every so often about my gender identity. Sometimes I ask myself, “Am I really non-binary? Or am I just doing it because I’ve seen other people use this label and want to be ‘cool’? Do I just want to stand out?” But then I remember all the times when dresses made me anxious, as well as the times I wanted to interject when people addressed me as female. In those cases, I remind myself that, even though the dysphoria has been present, what defines my experience with gender is the euphoria. Those times when not being a girl just feels right.
As of now, I’m trying to figure out a way to convey my identity to others in a way that won’t make them turn away from me. For example, my family. I’ve already come out as pansexual/queer to my parents and brother, but gender is a whole other can of worms. My parents have stated on multiple occasions that they don’t really understand the gender bit of the LGBTQ+ community and don’t really understand the need for all the micro-labels being used by people. As for my brother, once, he quickly corrected our great-grandmother when she mistook me for a boy from afar. Later, I told him it didn’t bother me, and he was like, “No, don’t tell me that you’re not a girl. You’ve already got she/they in your Insta bio…” and continued rambling for a few minutes, effectively discouraging me from bringing up the subject again. Despite this, I will keep living proudly as I have for the past 2-3 years. My identity is my business and no one else’s, regardless of the fact that I’m addressing it in this article. Having said that, I will keep certain people in the loop about things because I trust them and know that they’re here for me regardless.