You Don't Owe Anyone Androgyny

This phrase is popular in certain parts of the internet, where enby's (another word for non-binary people) often can be found. It couldn't be truer. Long ago, I went on journey that many other AMAB (Assigned Male At Birth) enby's understand. Growing up, my father, a soldier, was my hero. He was the shining beacon of masculinity that I was supposed to steer my ship towards during those foggy days as a child. For one of my early birthdays, my three sisters played a prank on me by buying me all sorts of Barbie branded toys and things, laughing all the way as my small pile of presents 'went to waste'.

What hurt me most was not that they bought me 'girls toys' but that it confused me. Sure I wasn't as interested in Barbie as I was in Lego or some kind of military action figure. But that wasn't because I didn't look at that doll and think that's a girls doll and I'm a boy. It was because my whole life I was told I wasn't supposed to like those sorts of things and I didn't know how to respond when I was being given them. For a brief moment, before the belly laughs and guffaws started, I thought I was finally being allowed to enter that strange and secret world. Barbie didn't have guns, she didn't go on secret missions to kill the non-descript bad guys. She was a woman and I wondered, what were women's problems day to day?

From then on things became confusing for a long time, until there was an unfortunate clarity. Growing up in a very conservative part of South Texas, I was taught further that boys are boys and girls are girls and as a boy, you shouldn't like girly things. Even worse, I learned the horrifying reality if you were a boy who liked other boys. But I liked other boys. Although, I never really... felt like one. Sure I could puff my chest out, grow a beard, and even played football (along, of course, with NJROTC, a kids first taste of the military). But none of the mattered. I walked around and told people I was a boy, sure. I had the... necessary equipment... but I never believed myself when I said it out loud.

After Texas, I moved to Ohio, bringing along a lot of bigotry and ignorance. Luckily, over time, I met people that told me all the things I needed to hear to become a good person. The fact that I liked 'other' boys was ok. Race doesn't say anything about anyone inherently. Even that it doesn't matter what you like or why you like it, as long as it makes you happy. I never really understood the fully extent of that last remark until a few years later.

I kept that gender confusion with me, even as all my other bigoted ideas left me. I was pansexual, dated who I want without compunction, and then met the first enby of my life. They were (and still are) a fun, caring, and sincere person, who luckily took that last nugget of bigotry in stride. My face turns hot thinking about less than ten years ago when I uttered "Non-binary? That's not real, that's weird."

Why did I say that? That's what I meant to be sure. I could see on their face then just as now how much emotionally scarring helped them be buffered against such a statement. They gave me a look of hurt, but not of surprise. We continued on our 'date' such as it was without problem. It took all night, but I remember at some point saying, "So what does Non-binary mean?" I forget how they looked, but I can only hope it was a smile. Now, for a little more context, they were AFAB (as before, but Female instead of Male) and the only reason I mention it was because it added an unintentional layer of confusion. They explained what it meant to be Non-binary, but in my strange brain, I thought only AFAB people could be Non-binary. Another casualty of reason thanks to conservative South Texas.

After that conversation, and a few more in the following days, I finally had an idea of what I could be. But... I can't be Non-binary, I'm a man I thought, naive as always. For a while I would day dream of walking around and having people use 'they' and 'them' instead of 'he' or 'him'. I had a day dream of wearing a skirt, down to my ankles, very tasteful. However that got banished to the recesses of my mind where previously much less wholesome thoughts of men used to sit. I looked around on the internet for a while, with terms like 'Non-binary fashion', 'Non-binary people', 'Famous Non-binary people'. That last one didn't yield much. (Hopefully that'll be a longer list here soon.)

Now, in those days, being Trans was much less... visible. Most people I knew didn't even know what the T in LGBT meant, (as well as B but that's neither here nor there right now). As such, when the conversation of Non-binary people would come up, rare as it was, the idea of a 'Non-binary uniform' was... in the circles I traveled... popular. If you found people who would even accept that Trans people are real and do exist, it would be even more difficult to get them to accept then that Non-binary people are real and exist. 'Hoodies, big enough to hide your body', 'baggy pants', 'hood up', 'nothing too colorful or that might exaggerate your body'. These were the recommendations. Otherwise? "Doesn't that just make you a trans-woman/ trans-man?", "Oh, that's something a girl would usually wear, there's nothing wrong with cross-dressing, but that's not really something enby's wear.".

Listen. Everyday I wear big pants with lots of pockets and a T-shirt. I like it, it's comfortable. It is essentially androgynous, I will admit. But... I yearn for the day I feel comfortable enough to go out in a skirt and a button up shirt. Or a dress with leather jacket and leather finger-less gloves. Combat boots hidden under a sundress. Or even... a dress with nice slip-ons and a big hat. Now, far be it from me to ever police what someone wants to wear. Cowboy chic? Yee-haw partner. 50's gangster? I'm hep. Something more modern? Absolutely, I'm sure Holister has everything you need. (People still get all their stuff at Holister, right?)

All I'm saying is, just like when I was a kid and my sisters bought me Barbie stuff as a prank. Just like when gender non-conforming legend and idol Jacob Tobia ran that marathon in high-heels. Just like when you (Non-binary folk) heard They/Them for the first time and said 'that's me, that's what I want'. If you want to wear a dress. You're still Non-binary. If you want to wear a jacket with ripped jeans and work boots. You're still Non-binary.

You're still Non-binary.

You. Don't. Owe. Anyone. Anyone. Androgyny.

But hey. If you too wish you could be an amorphous blob, or an alien, or a robot. Guess what? You're still Non-binary. You're still valid. And someone out there still loves you. And if you think I'm wrong. No. You're wrong. I love you. Non-bina-buddy. Wear what you want. And as long as you aren't in public, feel free to wear nothing at all! You're still Non-binary.