Recently, I have been having big gender feelings again. As you may or may not know, I’m nonbinary, and I use they/them pronouns. I’m fairly out about being nonbinary, but it comes with the annoying side effect of being absolutely invisible to non-trans people (and to some trans people as well).
Binary trans people, especially trans POC, are often more visible than nonbinary people. They are clocked easier by cis people if they don’t 100% pass, which can mean more danger for them. Nonbinary people often have sort of the opposite problem where they are invisible and no matter how queer they look, they will still be seen as man-lite or woman-lite by other people. While this means less chance of violence, it also means being constantly misgendered and having your identity invalidated by the people around you. At some point, you start to get a complex where you want to scream, “I’m trans too!” at everyone who doesn’t immediately clock you.
For me, being trans is an intrinsic part of my identity, just like my autism or queerness. From a young age, I have struggled with dysphoria. I didn’t have a word for it back when I was a kid hitting puberty at ten years old, but from that point on, I stopped feeling comfortable in my body. Suddenly, against my will, my body was different. I had boobs, which ended up being fairly large quickly, so I was forced to wear a bra and feel that all of my clothes hit all the wrong places. Growing up in the early 2000s, everything for girls was tight and close-fitting. Between sensory issues and dysphoria, I was ready to claw out of my skin every time my clothes clung to me. My mom didn’t fight me 90% of the time about not being feminine, and I settled into oversized t-shirts and cargo shorts.
I remember reading Cry to Heaven by Anne Rice as a teenager and fantasizing about being a castrati or a eunuch. The body I wanted most was flat chested, slightly taller than I am, and sex-less. Delicate-featured like a woman but flat and tall like a man. Daily, I am reminded that even with modern hormones and surgeries, the gender presentation I want isn’t possible. Well, technically, I could forgo any hormones and suppress my estrogen, but my bones would turn to dust and my organs would get out of whack. I desperately wish someone could create a sex hormone cocktail would allow for man shape without the facial hair or drastic voice drop. Microdosing is possible, but I don’t want most of the side effects of masculinization. I just want to not be a woman.
Being perceived as a woman makes me feel dysphoric.
I used to feel so guilty in college when my professors would expound upon how proud of us they were for being such smart women, and my brain would whisper, “But I’m not.” I’m not ashamed to be a woman as some people assume when you say you aren’t cis but AFAB. Woman always chafed like shoes that didn’t fit. There are a thousand ways to be a woman, but I never felt like I was any of those things. The label made no sense when held against me. Yes, I came genetically preprogrammed to grow boobs, have periods, and only be 5’6″, but that doesn’t mean I’m a woman. The image of me in my head isn’t a woman and never has been.
What’s really funny is how not feminine I feel and am next to my trans woman partner. She revels in being a woman and is so much more herself than she was before. It has been so heartening to see her grow into herself through transitioning. It also has made the contrast between us so much starker. My gender discomfort feels so much louder as I see her become more comfortable, and the worst part is that I’m not sure how to quiet it. I would love to get a mastectomy, but I can’t afford it and my job is only on a contractual basis, which means I don’t get paid time off to recover. There’s also the fear of not being able to drive in an emergency and the potential for giant autoimmune flares due to my chronic issues that could come with having major surgery.
When your brain and your body don’t align, it really messes with your head. It hinders me from dressing how I want or being comfortable in my skin. In turn, I’m not perceived by others gender-wise the way I’d like, and that messes with my head too. The worst part is my autism also fights against good change. It’s really hard for me to change my hair or clothing style because my brain rebels at the wrong-ness even if it’s good wrong. That anxiety hinders me from changing my hair too drastically or going for the more formal clothing I’d like to try. Those things might make me feel better gender-wise, but I have to white-knuckle through the initial discomfort of change. I hear a lot of trans people talk about gender euphoria, and I fear I will never have that because my brain’s first instinct is to scream no at change. Never in my life have I ever felt beautiful or handsome or attractive. I’ve only felt cute or passable at best. I’m not fishing for compliments; I’m just telling you the reality inside my head.
One day I hope I get to have the same gender euphoria that my partner feels, but I don’t know if that’s possible. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try; it just means it will be harder for me due to autism and chronic illness. Still, I worry that being androgynous or the vision of gender I have in my head is impossible, and while HRT has come a long way, it still has a ways to go for nonbinary people.
Kara Jorgensen 