I’m not even certain that this is a lost splinter, fulfilling his duty-bound efforts to erase abitrary gender boundaries off in some now distant other-realm. He might still prove to be my future self.
I occasionally catch glimpses of him, past and future, when I cast my gaze askew, watching the shadows rolling through the edges of my life.
I don’t recall a time when I attached my gender to my body. There was no thought demanding the two adhere to the same rules. I cannot offer a specific age, but it was prior to my understanding of sexuality and sexual activity.
My best guess would be following the halt of playing dress up. At the time, the only regular mention of gender mostly involved bathroom signs. And in my head I didn’t yet know the words that would help to define me, even if I understood their concepts and internal manifestations.
If anything, I have always been a “they” internally. And oddly, since I never thought of myself as normal, I simply assumed this was how everyone was inside. At the time, I used reincarnation to support my experience. I mean, if we were to come back life after life, how absurd to assume men would be men, and women be women, eternally?
I remember spending regular amounts of time in college writing lists of “dualities” – pairs of contrasting concepts or behaviors and alligning them under feminine and masculine columns. I’d review each pair and consider my position between those extremes. I pretty consistently put myself in the middle.
This was when I rebuilt my identity as an “in-betweener”. Anyone that is familiar with my artist pseudonym/nickname, Gryphon, might be interested to know that it comes out of this part of my life.
In researching heraldry stemming from my fraternal involvement, I discovered some reference to griffins as rulers of in-between, as they were the composite of the king of beasts and the lord of the skies. Hence, my internal sense of self molded into a permanent concept of “both”, if not “all”…
As gender conversations developed, and a visible Trans community stepped forward, the language that came to usage didn’t fit my inner experience. Trying to engage in the conversation without appropriate words for self-identity typically got me shutdown for being cis, which I have never declared myself to be.
So, I left the conversation. Not out of hurt and insult, or at least not solely for these things. Mostly, I shut up because my gender identity wasn’t in conflict with my body’s biology. (More on that in a bit.)
There was a point as an artist, being my own cheapest and most available model, where I used my own image. A lot. I made a point of blurring gender lines, especially the arbitrary ones around clothing. Not because I was turned on by or identified with women’s clothing, but because I was equally comfortable in any clothes.
And because I could make some people uncomfortable with the right clothes. If anything turned me on about traditionally feminine clothes, it was this. Right here.
I remember a specific exchange during my LiveJournal days about gender identity and expression with a queer woman I knew only through LJ: I expressed my contentment in my body, since any change would leave me just as far from my gender as I started out. She agreed, with excitement.
It was the first time I so successfully expressed my gender identity in the outer world. It was the first and last time I met someone else who saw their identity in a similar way. (Although that could well be because I don’t bring it up a lot.)
Or rather I didn’t. Bring it up. A lot.
I knew at such a young age exactly how queer I was, in the original sense of the word. I mean, somewhere around three years old. I remember how upset I got coloring with the neighbor girl two doors down. Honestly, how could we develop a lasting friendship when she had absolutely no grasp of how coloring related to the lines on the page! Really!
Recently, I learned a new term that helps me to accurately describe myself: gender intensity (although I think gender expression or manifestation is less confusing). This gives language to my gender as it exists outside of my head. Gender identity really only describes my inner being, since my gender manifestation is pretty cis…
This leads back to those long lists of contrasts. As a society, we are so obsessed over either/or. We don’t leave much room for both-in-one. If male and female don’t plug in together to make one OMGOSH!!!! OTHER! SET. IT. ON. FIRE!
If I were to use current accepted vocabulary to define my gender identity; pangender, genderqueer and non-binary are all in my neighborhood, although I tend to ascribe to the latter two a degree of gender manifestation that I do not maintain.
And pangender is close, but…
I can’t get past the “all” of it. Literally. I am decidely plural, but most is more accurate than all. (I’ll note here that I use he/him/his pronouns because they match my body, and I’ve not yet needed my pronouns to speak of my gender.)
Lately, I’ve encountered touches of sadness regarding such a steady masculine gender manifestation, but honestly… I have no remaining spoons to take that on. Sadly.
I can imagine discovering a splinter tunnel that leads to a world where my queerchild has manifested beautifully for all to see, but I would rather backstep a bit and redesign this current manifestation into a better customized fit.
quantum man 