The author is attending a wedding. The photo is courtesy of Camille Beredjick.
I tried on a dress for a wedding. It was a deep navy blue, slinky, with a colorful floral print and a little pull of fabric at the hip. I wore it around my apartment and enjoyed it. When I try on a new outfit, my wife asks me the same question she asks on her laptop.
She said it looks great. How do you feel about your gender?
I came out as a woman earlier this year. For a long time, my attempts to fit in as a cis gender woman felt like a drag performance and I hoped they would convince everyone around me. I didn't feel like a man, but I didn't always feel like a woman. I didn't want to announce an identity that didn't belong to me, but identifying as anything other than a woman felt like a responsibility I hadn't earned.
I realized I could be happier if I said what I was feeling. I found more nonbinary people to look up to, some who transitioned and some who didn't, and I learned more about what it means to be nonbinary. I came out to my family, my friends, and finally to the internet.
For many of my friends who have come out as nonbinary in the past few years, a common set of steps followed: a new, less-gendered name, a new set of pronouns, and a more masculine-of name.
I did the same thing when I came out. I told my friends to use either she or she and their pronouns for me. Both are fine! I told people. I said it. I bought a bunch of high-necked T-shirts and some looser-fitting jeans, convincing myself that they were the uniform of a nonbinary person. I waited to see how the changes would be.
Everyone in my life immediately switched to calling me Cam, a name that previously only my closest friends had used. I was surprised by the change. I was surprised to discover that I didn't have to call myself "Collie" when I came from people closest to me, like my parents and my wife.
I want to make it clear that I am incredibly lucky to have a community that immediately began using a new name and pronouns for me when I asked them to. The effects of being misgendered and deadnamed can be extremely harmful, and too many people spend years of their lives being misgendered and deadnamed. I am not complaining that my loved ones supported me when I realized my gender.
It was even more complicated when I recoiled at being called Cam. It felt like I was performing a new version of myself in order to fit what other people thought was nonbinary. It didn't feel good, but this was the most honest I'd ever been about my gender identity with myself and my community, and still, I couldn't figure it out.
I realize that this identity isn't about banning anything from my name or my wardrobe; it's about creating space for an abundance of queer possibilities.
When I first started addressing my big gender feelings last summer, my wife and I had a few emotional conversations about it, many of them late at night on her parents' patio in Baltimore.
Can I still call you my wife? I will love you no matter what you want me to call you.
I said yes. I am still your wife. I will always be your wife.
I don't feel like everything about my womanhood has disappeared. It doesn't make sense to refer to me as she/her pronouns. Being a wife with a wife has been important to me since my wedding day. There is still a question in the back of my head. Does this count as non-binary?
It is hard to imagine how to express my identity in a way that doesn't diminish others' expression of theirs, because of the lack of representation of nonbinary people in the media. Non gendered clothing has historically been code for masculine-of-center, and the media tends to botch celebrity comings-out. We have a long way to go before society at large understands what it means to be nonbinary.
I have to decide if my occasional draw to femininity negates my new identity or if I can take up too much space in this community. If my life isn't going to change much, was it worth coming out? Is it okay for me to claim my nonbinary identity if it doesn't require a new name or pronouns, a new wardrobe or a complete reimagining of my marriage?
I have to believe that the answer is yes. It is a disservice to all people to imply that there is only one way to do gender. For many of us, gender is messy and deeply personal. We owe it to ourselves and to our loved ones to trust ourselves to figure out what feels most affirming and affirming, and to appreciate what we will learn about ourselves along the way. We are still imagining what a future that celebrates nonbinary people can look like. That should be exciting.
It's a disservice to all people to imply that there's only one way to do gender. For many of us, gender is messy and deeply personal. We owe it to ourselves and to our loved ones to lean into that uncertainty.
I am excited to help paint a more inclusive, expansive picture of what it means to be nonbinary, one that is bursting with color and light and that honors how different our experiences of gender can be. No two people have the same experience of their gender. Our collective understanding of gender grows as the spectrum of what being nonbinary looks like. Once we give ourselves permission to realize it, there is so much more we can be.
Many people have one affirming name and one affirming set of pronouns. I have two of them. We all have a claim to this identity.
I wore a slinky dress to the welcome party and a jumpsuit to the wedding. I felt great and looked great. I felt like myself in both outfits. When I first came out, I thought it meant an end to dresses and makeup, because they were too womanly. I didn't think they could feel like me again. I realized that this identity isn't about banning anything from my name or my wardrobe; it's about creating space for an abundance of queer possibilities. It is about letting myself be who I want to be.
I like being called Camille just as much as I like being called Cam, I still mean it. Some days they feel affirming, other days I could leave them or take them. I will always feel more comfortable in a jumpsuit than a dress, but that doesn't mean the right dress isn't out there once in a while.
All of these things can be true, and I can still be nonbinary. I will keep reminding myself that it is a truth, no matter how long it takes.
A writer and editorial strategist, Beredjick lives in Chicago. Her writing has appeared in a number of publications.
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The article was originally on HuffPost.
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