Coming out – I am non-binary and demisexual

Yeah, so this is happening. I’ve filmed a video that will go up on my YouTube channel and social media platforms, but I thought I should probably share this information on my website as well. And fortunately, part of my preparation for filming what turned out to be a half-hour video was writing a 15-page script, so that’s what you’re getting here! Buckle in, kids, and get ready for a story.

I’m scared to share this about myself. I’m scared that people will judge me, or that people won’t believe me, or that people might love me a little less. But I need to move past that. I love me, and God loves me, and that what matters. So I’ll say what I want to say, and damn the fear.

I want to talk about my gender and sexual identity, because they’re not quite typical (really, what about me is typical?). I identify as non-binary and demisexual. I’m going to talk about what these things are, what they mean to me, how I discovered them about myself, and why I’m sharing this now.

I have shared this with some people over the years since I learned it about myself, but there are plenty of people who are learning it for the first time when they read this post or watch one of the videos. The main reason for that is that it simply didn’t come up in conversation. “Hi, how are you?” “Oh, I’m good, the family’s well, by the way, I realised I’m non-binary!” It’s a weird thing to shoehorn into a conversation. And I don’t want to always have to do the “I have something important to tell you…” thing. I just want to be who I am.

But for some people, they might not know because they’re not a safe place for me. They might have given me the vibes that they won’t be welcoming to people with atypical identities, and that makes me really unsure about how they’ll react if they find out about mine. So I just won’t bring it up.

I am non-binary, and I am demisexual.

A non-binary person is someone who doesn’t identify as strictly male or female. For some non-binary, or enby (NB, non-binary, very cute) people, they are averse to being gendered in any way. They might present visually as androgynous, they might use a gender-neutral name, and they might use they/them pronouns.

For other enbys, like me, we’re kind of apathetic about gender. I present feminine because it’s easy and fun, because that’s just what my face looks like. I couldn’t care less what pronouns people use for me – generally people default to she/her because of the way I present, but I don’t get offended if people use he/him (it can happen online when people can’t see me), and I like it when people use they/them. I could be described as a non-binary woman, because my own identity is non-binary, but I dress and essentially have the life experiences of a woman.

If identifying as a gender was like being offered tea or coffee, no thanks, I’m just not thirsty. If I woke up in a world where gender didn’t exist, I wouldn’t have an identity crisis, because gender is simply not a factor in how I see myself. Before I learned what non-binary was, if I was listing adjectives to describe myself, listing ‘woman’ or ‘girl’ would feel kind of forced, whereas I know it would come naturally to many women.

This might come as a surprise, partly because I appear to be very feminine a lot of the time. The simple explanation is that I like getting pretty. And my features lend themselves to that. But pretty doesn’t equal female. There are plenty of women who don’t doll themselves up, who might have plain or even masculine features, but who absolutely feel like the women they are. They will proudly call themselves women, because that’s who and what they are.

I dress up pretty because it’s fun, not because I’m a girl. Just ask the men in the French court of Versailles, with the makeup and high heels, they knew what it was about.

I also know there are people out there, even people on my social media friends lists, who might dismiss me as wrong or misguided, who might even think this is a part of my mental health issues. All so that they don’t need to believe me, and believe that some people’s gender identities are a little bit different. It’s like coming out as a unicorn. This thing doesn’t exist.

Especially when you consider that, in a lot of communities, and by a lot of definitions, being non-binary comes under the transgender umbrella. The gender I identify as doesn’t line up with the sex I was assigned at birth. That’s the definition of transgender. I don’t want to change anything, I don’t want to change my body, but that’s the category I can be put in.

And I’ve seen people I know share posts about the LGBTQIA+ community that tell me, you are not a safe person for me to talk to. I don’t think you’d believe me, I don’t think you’d accept me, I don’t think you’d respect me, and I’m quite afraid that you might not love me. And I want you to know that,  if you’re putting up anti-trans, or anti-gay posts, you’re not converting anyone back to the ‘right’ path or the ‘correct’ way of thinking. All you’re saying is, if you’re questioning, if you’re uncertain, if you’re unsure, if you’re different, don’t you dare come to me, because I will judge you.

Let’s talk about the only one who can judge me. When I discovered that I was non-binary and demisexual (we’ll chat about the sexuality thing in a bit) – and I did discover it, I didn’t decide it, I just realised that’s the way I am – I battled against a whole lot of shame and self-loathing. That was until I realised that I was stressing about the judgement of other believers, and I wasn’t allowing myself to rest in God’s love.

I am non-binary and demisexual. That is who and what I am. I didn’t make a choice to be those things, they’re a part of the fabric of who I am. And because I also believe that God knits us together in the womb and that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, I can’t help but draw the conclusion that it includes us with atypical identities. He made us, and He loves us, and He does not make mistakes.

‘God made them male and female.’ Yes. He also made morning and He made evening, and yet we still have the afternoon. There are grey areas throughout creation, things that weren’t mentioned in the beginning, and yet they are beautiful examples of the masterful hands of a Creator. And all throughout history, in every culture, there have been stories of third genders, people outside of the binary. Throughout generations of recorded medicine, there’s been evidence of ‘chimeras’, later known as intersex, people with undefinable sexes, all sets of genitals, none, partial of everything.

The grey area. The afternoon. I do not believe God makes mistakes. I believe I was fearfully and wonderfully made. As were those of us who aren’t typical. Those of us with neurodivergence, who spice up the world with our brilliance. Those of us with remarkable things like synesthesia – I can feel the texture of words when I read them. That’s not in the Bible, but it’s certainly not a mistake.

And if there’s any message I want people to take away from this, it’s a message for the people who, like me, exist in that difficult crossover between religion/faith and an atypical identity. Please know that God loves you as you are. He crafted you as a masterpiece. I don’t believe that He expects you to conform or change this part of you. There are many ways that God asks and expects us to change. He asks us to be more loving, more patient, more kind, more forgiving. He asks us to assess our lives and behaviour and align ourselves with Him and His will.

But if God made you musical, if He made you a good speaker, if He made you nurturing, if He made you good at being solitary, if He made you non-binary, if He made you gay, I do not believe that is a mistake. It doesn’t stop you from doing the main things required of believers – following the two greatest commandments, to love the Lord with all your heart, soul and mind, and to love your neighbour as yourself, and to show the Fruit of the Spirit, which are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. God wants you to change your heart. But I don’t believe He wants you to change your identity.

Some people also believe that people who ‘become’ gay or trans were exposed to things early in their life that influenced them, because people can’t possibly be born that way. People can’t possibly be created that way. I grew up in the most conservative Christian environment you could possibly imagine. People have joked that it was a cult because it was so insular. I lived on enclosed Christian communities until I was 16, also going to Christian schools, raised by the straightest people you could imagine. I never had any influences of any other kind of gender or sexuality. Not in music or television or film, not in the people I met. Nothing.

And yet, when I played house with my friends, I was the only little ‘girl’ who didn’t kick up a stink when I needed to be the daddy. I didn’t care. I didn’t see the difference in being a mummy or a daddy. That was a regular occurance, playing the male roles in games because I was the only ‘girl’ who just didn’t care.

When I was a young teen, I developed a character, a pirate, and that character didn’t seem to have a gender. I loved the stories of female pirates who would disguise themselves as men. This character was my escape, where I didn’t need to be soft or pretty. I could just be a mysterious ‘them’. And even then, we’d play a game where I’d be a dashing male hero – again, I’d be the dude because I was the only ‘girl’ who just didn’t care. I had girls get crushes on me, and one of them told me it was because I had ‘boy energy, but not as scary.’ That’s enby power, baby.

But all this, while growing up in an environment that constantly pushed traditional female roles onto me. And I’m talking, the first community I grew up in didn’t permit women to wear pants. That’s how traditional we’re talking. This had to be in me for it to develop in an environment where no one told me this existed. No one told me a person could be in a grey area, but somehow I knew that’s where I fitted. That seed was already planted, and it was determined to grow.

How did I realise I was non-binary? Kind of funny, actually. I was hanging out with a friend, and somehow the Shania Twain song, ‘Man, I Feel Like a Woman’ came up in the conversation. And I said, “that song is so silly, because that’s not a thing. No one feels like a woman.” And she looked at me oddly and said, actually, yeah, she felt like a woman. Didn’t I? That was the first time I realised that some people feel like their gender. That, for some people, gender is more than just a label given to them by society, that they have to wear whether it fits or not, but it’s actually an intrinsic part of the way they see themselves. And she asked me, what do I feel like? I think I said, I feel like a shape. I feel like a shape with a face.

We started talking about gender, realising the differences in our feelings and experiences. That, for her, womanhood was a part of how she saw herself, but for me, gender was an uncomfortable afterthought, a thing I had to pack in my bag because my Mum told me I’d probably need it. It wasn’t something I celebrated, it was something I felt uncomfortable ticking off on a form, like a jacket that was made to fit someone else. I’ll tick ‘female’ on a medical form, so they know what pipes they’re working with. But when the only option for gender on a form is male or female, it’s uncomfortable, it’s been uncomfortable for a long time, since before I had the words for it, and I had to learn that, if I wasn’t non-binary, it wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

I’m still happy to be a she/her. I know that’s just what I look like a lot of the time. But if people want to throw in a they/them, that would also make me happy. And if someone accidentally mistakes me for a he/him, I don’t care. I’ll answer to that as well. I’m happy to be called beautiful, gorgeous, pretty, handsome, remarkable, dapper. I love being called handsome, to be honest. And I coined a phrase for another non-binary friend, ‘beautisome handful’ – a portmanteau of beautiful and handsome. I think it’s the perfect non-binary compliment.

I know people call me lady, woman, girl. I get it, it’s what I look like. But for me, I’m a person. I would appreciate being called a lovely person, rather than a lovely lady. I’ll often refer to myself as a man or a guy or a boy, just as a palette cleanser, away from the overtly feminine tones of lady, woman, girl. It’s also because, to me, a lot of terms are interchangeable. I’m just a shape with a face, after all.

Now on to sexuality. I am demisexual. It’s very similar to asexuality, and for a long time I thought I was asexual, so I’ll explain that first. An asexual person doesn’t experience physical or sexual attraction. They might feel romantic attraction and develop emotional connections and fall in love (‘aromantic’ is the term for people who don’t experience romantic attraction).

I know some people think it’s silly to have all these labels, but tell me, how many of you liked it when you were able to put the label of boyfriend or wife on your partner? If they said, ‘we don’t need labels, let’s just be together?’ would you be cool with that? Or would you feel better knowing what you were? Where you stood? So think about that, next time you hear about all these crazy labels. You use labels constantly in your own lives, even if you don’t label your sexuality. Asexual people might experience physical desire without that desire being attached to a particular person.

Demisexual people are very similar to asexual people. But when they develop a strong emotional connection to someone, there’s a chance of developing a physical attraction as well, and this only happens once or twice in a lifetime. So we don’t experience physical attraction at all without a strong emotional element, and even then it’s probably only going to happen once or twice. We’re like those birds that mate for life.

I thought I was asexual for a long time. I wasn’t as interested in boys as my friends at school, and I wasn’t interested in girls either. I had a couple of crushes, but it was more because they were boys who were nice to me. As I grew older, I was interested in romantic connections, but not really the physical stuff. I was pursued by men, but was pretty oblivious to the whole thing. I hadn’t really been considered that pretty, until I went to the city. And then suddenly blossomed or something, and was apparently a catch. I also think my intelligence was more appreciated there.

I did end up in a relationship, but it didn’t go well. I agreed to a relationship on the terms that nothing sexual would happen. I wasn’t interested, I wasn’t ready. I liked him romantically, I liked talking to him, and I learned that I liked kissing. But I didn’t want anything else. This man broke the promise fast, and I think he had what turns out to be a disturbingly common attitude that you can ‘fix’ someone with force. If someone is uninterested in sex, or is interested in sex but not sex with your gender, you just need to show them what they’re missing out on. Didn’t work on me.

I had some ‘situationships’ after that. I loved the guys romantically, I knew they were good looking, and looking at them made me happy, but there wasn’t real attraction. And again, happy to kiss, not much interested in anything else. I want them to know – literally, not you. You’re gorgeous, you’re wonderfully, I’m just not wired that way.

I didn’t learn about asexuality until my mid- to late-twenties, and then everything fell into place. I continued on, viewing people aesthetically, believing I would never experience attraction, but being okay with that, because my experience with my first boyfriend really warped by ideas of physicality.

Then I met my partner. My partner is very good looking, although I didn’t know that at first, as we met when he commented on my blog, and we started emailing from there. We did Skype calls, and again, I liked looking at him, it made me happy. We developed romantic feelings and wanted to pursue a relationship. He knew I was asexual, and there might never be that aspect to our relationship, but we still wanted to explore it. It had been long distance, so he came down for a visit.

When I first saw him, I felt the same comfort and happiness that I felt through our Skype calls. But after a few days, it shifted, and I realised that for the first time in my life, I was attracted to someone. This little penguin found their mate.

The thing people don’t realise, and maybe don’t want to acknowledge, is that asexuality and demisexuality are still queer identities. They’re still members of the LGBTQIA+ community. If you’re ace or demi, you’re not straight. The one person I ended up being attracted to happens to be male, and people assume I’m female, so it looks like I’m straight. But what if I’d  bonded with a woman, or another non-binary person?

I sometimes feel like, to the queer communities, ace and grey-ace identities (such as demisexuality) aren’t seen as being legitimately queer enough, and to people who don’t like queer folx, we’re seen as the acceptable sort of queer because we’re not getting up to as many sexual shenanigans as those other naughty queers. But we aren’t straight. That’s just the truth.

So, why am I coming out now? And why come out at all? I’m not jumping on the Pride train, even though the timing of this video may make it look suspiciously that way. I had a small UK magazine reach out to me a little while ago. Their focus is uplifting the voices of under-represented women in music, and they found my disability-focused music and wanted to talk to me. I wanted to be open with them. I told them, hey, just so you know, I identify as non-binary, or a non-binary woman, as my experience of the world is very much that of a woman. I want you to know that upfront, rather that have you interview me for a women’s magazine and then see me reference my non-binary identity down the line.

They were lovely about it. They asked if I was comfortable being put in the same category as cis- and transwomen. I said yes, as my lived experience and the way I’m treated is definitely that of a woman. Then, when the interview questions came, a whole lot of them were focused on my non-binary identity. The interviewer said I didn’t need to answer any that I didn’t feel comfortable with, but I thought, no, it’s time, I want to be open.

Then another magazine reached out to ask my perspective on being a non-binary person with disability! They might have heard about me through the first magazine. I realised that, if this part of me is going to become public, I wanted to talk about it on my own terms, explain who I am, and how I came to know myself.

I also talked to my parents about it. Like I mentioned before, they’re the straightest people you could imagine. I came out to my mother many years ago, and she didn’t understand any of it, but she loved me. She was also lovely about referring to me as a person more than a woman. My father, many years ago, had said that nothing would ever stop me from being his daughter. When I came out to him, quite recently, I told him that phrase had made me worried about telling him. He took it all in his stride, and I did explain that me being non-binary didn’t stop me from being a daughter, a sister, an aunty. And at the end, he once again said that nothing would ever stop me from being his daughter, and he held me. And I knew that meant he loved and accepted me for whoever I was.

There are many people who don’t know, who won’t know until they see this video. I haven’t known how to tell everyone in my life. Having an atypical identity is hard because it puts pressure on you. If you’re straight and cis-gendered, you never have to think, how do I approach that person and tell them I’m a woman who is attracted to men? Because that’s what they already assumed. Being atypical means that if you suddenly start talking about it, people will accusatorily say, hey, I didn’t know that about you! But if you tell them privately, they’ll ask you why you didn’t tell them sooner.

And honestly, you don’t want to always have to declare facts about yourself. If I declare these, do I also have to tell everyone that I’ve started drinking coffee? Because I never used to, so that’s a big change people will want to know. I was a big Coke drinker, and I’ve cut down. Should I come out about that?

It’s hard.  I’ve mentioned my gender identity in conversations over the years, explaining to some people that I feel more like just a person than a woman. But I’m not ticking off a list of everyone I’ve told. Some people give me the vibes that I mentioned earlier, that maybe they’re not safe people to come to, so they’re not the people I would reach out to and say, ‘hey, I have something to tell you’.

Anyway, that’s my coming out post. The what’s, the why’s, the how’s, the when’s. Everything you could possibly want to know. And now I can just go on with being myself. My wonderful, beautisome handful, shape with a face self.

Bless. Nell.