The story of my life
Jun. 22nd, 2016 12:03![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillI told my therapist that I've had a lifetime of falling through the cracks, of not fitting into any of the boxes. Outcast. Geek. Invisibly disabled. My entire college experience (non-standard transfer; three-quarters courseload; ten years older than almost anybody else; commuting; chemically sensitive; time off because of a physical collapse; testing-out to get my degree). My body has always defied categorization. Now I'm a non-binary individual, which is not only pretty much the definition of not fitting any of the boxes, but arguably the most invisible group under the trans umbrella.
He asked me whether I've ever had a space where I felt like I fit. Where the environment would adapt to fit me. I had to think about that for a little bit... I finally said that a queer play party had been the closest thing to a place I belonged. Where not only would I be accepted regardless of who I was, but that people were able to see who I really am without preconceptions, and treat me accordingly.
A runner-up would be Cherryland, but I think it's difficult for people who have never lived outside the boxes to really, truly grasp what it's like in the in-between spaces. Cis people don't think about gender much, and unless they've had a lot of practice with subverting societal conditioning, they still fall into thinking of others in terms of categories which I no longer fit into. It's no indictment of them -- I still have that conditioning myself, though I've eroded a lot of it over the last year -- but it's a common-experience issue. It's the difference between having friends and having a tribe.
Most of my interactions with the world require that I brace myself. Misgendering, sexism, fatphobia, ableism, religious intolerance... every day I encounter them, going to the grocery store, reading Facebook, watching television, going to a party. I'm pretty much never seen for who I am. I'm hardly alone in that -- I think most people in America go their whole lives without anyone really, truly knowing who they are, and that frequently includes themselves. But they have the advantage of living in a society which is set up in a way they're comfortable with. It isn't necessary to be accurately seen in order to be respected and have their needs met.
I know myself well enough to recognize that I'm not comfortable, and I never have been. I know myself well enough to recognize when other people see me inaccurately, and to understand how that impacts me. I respect myself enough to want things to be better.
I hope I can find a tribe. I hope I can build a place where I actually do fit.
He asked me whether I've ever had a space where I felt like I fit. Where the environment would adapt to fit me. I had to think about that for a little bit... I finally said that a queer play party had been the closest thing to a place I belonged. Where not only would I be accepted regardless of who I was, but that people were able to see who I really am without preconceptions, and treat me accordingly.
A runner-up would be Cherryland, but I think it's difficult for people who have never lived outside the boxes to really, truly grasp what it's like in the in-between spaces. Cis people don't think about gender much, and unless they've had a lot of practice with subverting societal conditioning, they still fall into thinking of others in terms of categories which I no longer fit into. It's no indictment of them -- I still have that conditioning myself, though I've eroded a lot of it over the last year -- but it's a common-experience issue. It's the difference between having friends and having a tribe.
Most of my interactions with the world require that I brace myself. Misgendering, sexism, fatphobia, ableism, religious intolerance... every day I encounter them, going to the grocery store, reading Facebook, watching television, going to a party. I'm pretty much never seen for who I am. I'm hardly alone in that -- I think most people in America go their whole lives without anyone really, truly knowing who they are, and that frequently includes themselves. But they have the advantage of living in a society which is set up in a way they're comfortable with. It isn't necessary to be accurately seen in order to be respected and have their needs met.
I know myself well enough to recognize that I'm not comfortable, and I never have been. I know myself well enough to recognize when other people see me inaccurately, and to understand how that impacts me. I respect myself enough to want things to be better.
I hope I can find a tribe. I hope I can build a place where I actually do fit.
