A Pride Post as Late as My Realizations

Photo by Tallie Robinson on Unsplash

I've always known that my intimacy with men was performative. I've always known that it's been part of shoving myself into a box within society. Most of my early 20's was spent sleeping with men as a form of self-harm, hoping I'd feel accepted somewhere along the way. Well, honey, that was not the way. Perhaps even, the ease with which I was able to do that has affected me and my ideas of intimacy. Perhaps it's why when I think of intimacy with men, I feel fear and anxiety. I'm not convinced it's my reason for all of the confusion surrounding my identity. In fact, the conversation of my identity is a tiring one to have, as it isn't a group of labels that I can confidently claim, but a loose cloud of ideas that form whatever, whoever I may be. It's a variable identity, effervescent and shimmering as it changes, as I change. Change is good. It's growth, and we should all aim to be blooming flowers rather than withering weeds.

Last year I came out to some of my close friends as non-binary. I still believe that despite frequently representing women because of the society that is around us. Some people will understand gender fluidity, and it's a conversation every time. Some won't, and to them, I'll still represent being a woman. and that's okay because I think the point of all this is to slowly reject and restructure what gender means to us. What does womanhood mean to you? What does manhood mean to you? Why? and by rejecting that in your journey, rejecting your identity, does it mean, too, that you reject your humanity, or just what we are taught is masculine and feminine? Isn't all of that feeding back into those stereotypes after all? I felt a lot of guilt to say I have rejected being a woman rather than fighting for someone like me to represent what that means. I am still on this journey and I don't have answers (and you can call me a late-bloomer all you'd like). 

I've had crushes only on women the past few years, yet once again I accepted a man as part of its ease and the expectations of me. I thought I was beyond it, but I wasn't. I'm someone who most of my peers think has life figured out. I'm waist-deep in my career, ahead of most my age, representing my ideas and beliefs with at least some level of poignancy, but despite all that, I still haven't figured out what to say when someone asks my pronouns. I still haven't figured out what to say when someone asks my sexual orientation. I often give a halfhearted shrug. "I don't have the luxury of being picky," I joke. 

It was only while sitting in a room with a man I'd been seeing who told me his ideas of having a housewife who would cook and clean, I realized it made my stomach churn to even think to live within that role. It hit me like a wave that there are still people who submit to this default setting. There's nothing wrong with it, but for me, I knew it didn't feel right no matter what my sexuality was, no matter what my gender was. This was moments after gazing upon a beautiful cuddled up lesbian couple on TV reading a single book together, an image I wanted so desperately for myself, and I realized: 

This ain't it. 

Do I know what is it? No, but I know that it's okay not to know. 

Happy Pride month.