Teal’s Story

Growing into my nonbinary identity is less a story of transformation, rather a story of discovery. 

As I grew up, I founded myself on ideals of the concrete. I found comfort in differentiating reality from illusion. I had tendencies to thoroughly research my interests, ensuring that I could back them if someone ever challenged me. No one ever did. 

I applied this philosophy to my school work and relationships, but mostly to my identity. And for many years, I never questioned it. I knew I was white; I knew I was somewhere between 5’6 and 5’7; I knew I loved school; I knew I was queer; I knew I loved music; I knew I did not know my shoe size; I knew I had female reproductive organs. To this day, these facts have not changed. They never will. It is simply my orientation to them that allows me to see them as more than just facts. As a whole. 

To be clear, I was not a stranger to gender or to fluidity. My sibling my came out as transgender when I was in fifth grade. And throughout my childhood, I was frequently exposed to change through experiences, people, and ideas that would reorient my perspective and permeate within me. 

From middle school onwards, I would find myself experimenting with many labels that circulated the queer community. For me, labels often morphed from an expansive clarity to excruciatingly small spaces that forced my knees tight against my chest. The labels themselves never shrunk though, I realize now that their impermanence was just a reflection of my own growth. 

Over time, my gender identity turned from quiet questions to shouts that echoed across the chasm of my mind. When I started feeling brave, I began to hear them out. This is what they asked me:

They asked me to apply the same patience with myself that had come much easier to me when it was my gender queer friends spoke to me and not myself. 

They asked me to look beyond the dangerous simplicity that Western ideals had tricked us into holding as the only truth. 

They asked me to re-examine my body, my mind, and my soul.

They asked me why I felt such a strong attachment to the known. 

And when I had just begun to answer their first few questions, they began to spit out more. 

I searched for what was concrete. I asked the internet, essays, my friends, and my family. The more I learned and researched, the less concrete it all became. But within an unstable sense of self and sense of the world, I began to realize who I was. I was no longer tethered to answers, I was tethered to questions. Who am I? How does the world impact me? How do I impact the world? How do I want to impact the world?

Yes, I am White. Yes, I am somewhere between 5’6 and 5’7. Yes, I love school. Yes, I am queer. Yes, I love music. No, I do not know my shoe size. And yes, I have female reproductive organs. But no, I do not identify as a woman or a girl. It was questions that led me here. It was questions that allowed me to see myself as someone whole. As someone who cannot be divided. Cannot be detached. Cannot be binary.