14 - Fence.

I enrolled myself into gender studies at uni in the early 2000s where I was introduced to feminist theory. I was grateful at the time because it helped me re-frame how I understood female representation, and gave me an outlet for my frustrations with sexism. Unfortunately the feminism I first learnt about sort of bumsteered me from recognising myself as a non cis person. It reinforced the idea of a binary between men and women, and that was the basis of discrimination and inequality. I wasn’t trans, I was just a feminist woman fighting the patriarchy. That kind of feminism didn’t really leave much room for anyone who didn’t quite fit the category of “woman” nor those who had to fight for other things on top of just being female.

Studying sociology at university did however mean it wasn’t long before I met some queer intersectional feminists. They were gloriously unconventional with their mismatching second hand clothes, radical haircuts and hairy armpits. I was lost and looking for connection so I followed them like a little puppy, completely unaware of the world I was about to walk into.

They took me to the left side of the moon, where everything I had taken for granted was uprooted. A crash course in racism, gender, environmentalism, politics, non-monogamy, capitalism, anarchy, creativity, art, sexuality and dumpster diving. I joined the bare chested, gender bending pre-pussy riot rebellion. The kind of people the government would have written a case study about as ‘signs your child is becoming radicalised’.

As exciting and wild as it all was, it was also very intimidating. Everyone seemed highly educated and had formed all sorts of opinions on subjects I hadn’t even known existed until that very conversation. I couldn’t wax lyrical about Marxist theory or how neo-liberalism was the downfall of democracy. I hadn’t been working on a radical zene I could share. I was very curious and wanted to be a part of at all but terrified to expose myself as an impostor.

I was completely overwhelmed by it all so the first non-binary person I ever met passed right by me without me taking note. Someone told me before I was introduced that they used “they/them” pronouns instead of “her/she” and I didn’t really know what that meant so i just didn’t speak. It was all too much information to take in. They talked about a device they made to pee standing up and my friend told me how they only like to have sex if they are on top. This person seems like they are just being odd for the sake of being different i thought to myself. I didn’t feel like I was part of the mainstream gay scene, but I wasn’t sure if I could fit this one either.

A lot of the queer world I was discovering felt like that. People trying so hard to separate themselves from a world that has oppressed them one way or another. Aggressively differing. Like if you conformed, you were one of them. You needed to rebel in someway in order to be accepted. I was never sure if I was queer enough to be considered a queer. Isn’t it funny you can spend your whole childhood feeling weird and different, and then when you are around weird and different people, suddenly you feel too ‘normal’?

I feel like i’ve always been perched up on a fence, peering into the different worlds, watching other people fill their space. I watched how they interacted, how they dressed, how they held themselves. I could mimic them if i wanted. Slip in and out of these worlds pretending to be part of them, then climb back up onto my fence to watch some more.

I was so focused on what other people were doing and saying in order to represent their identity, I didn’t really think about my own. My twenties passed by without me paying much attention to myself. Sometimes I feel embarrassed that it has taken me so long to recognise that I am a trans person, but then I look back and remind myself that it has always been a journey. Discovering your gender identity isn’t a race, you get there when you are ready.