Gender as an invitation, rather than an obligation
I want it all. And I’m learning that wanting it all is part of who I am.
Also published on my Substack
I didn’t plan to rethink my gender. It happened quietly, when the world shut down and I finally heard myself without the usual noise. It was a feeling I couldn’t shake, like there was more to me than the version I thought I knew. The more I listened, the louder it grew.
I didn’t expect the answer I found.
I figured out my gender from the inside out, through quiet moments when no one needed anything from me. The 2020 lockdowns gave me that space. The world slowed and I asked who I was when I wasn’t performing a public self. I tried filling out a form with “they/them” as the pronouns, and something settled and felt more at home.
It was a spiritual shift. There was a larger existence. The more-than-human. A part of me that stretched past anything physical. It felt wide, open, and alive. Language only points at the real thing, and “they/them” felt closer to acknowledging both my physical self and that larger non-physical part of me.
If I had to choose a word, I’d say I’m gender fluid. Nonbinary is also a shortcut, but I’d rather describe myself by what I am, rather than what I’m not. Underneath that sits a kind of self-recognition, a private knowing.
My gender feels like something I offer, not something I demand. An invitation, not an obligation.
I’m not naive about how society sees me. I know the world places me where it wants. It doesn’t upset me when someone calls me “he.” I came in to this life with certain limits, and those limits are an important part of the journey in discovering who I am.
When someone uses “they/them” pronouns, they step into a room many people may never enter. It means they see more of me, and that access isn’t by default.
I only talk about my gender with people who are ready or people I care about, people who’ve earned that part of my story. That keeps my gender feeling fluid, alive, and mine.
When I took salsa classes, everything there split by gender. Men asked women to dance. Women followed men. I hated being assigned solely to the male role. I was shy, and I wanted both. I wanted to ask and be asked. I wanted to learn how to follow and lead. I wanted to be good at all of it. That’s how I feel about gender. I want the full range of being alive.
My gender is an internal experience, not something shaped by how people see me. And I’m lucky it doesn’t shake me when someone gets it wrong. Maybe my gender is the part of me that wants everything life offers. The strength of chopping wood. The softness of care. The fire of being fierce. The comfort of being nurturing. The steadiness of feeling masculine. The wild magic of feeling feminine.
I want it all. And I’m learning that wanting it all is part of who I am.
