This is a document I originally wrote back in January of 2021, when I was preparing to come out to the world. It was really useful, I could send it to people before we had a conversation about my transition, and it kind of got the nuts and bolts (and surprised reactions) out of the way. Over the years, as I continued to discover myself and refine that understanding, I’d change things, or evolve my answers. It became something of a living document, which was kind of cool, but eventually it started to sag under the weight of all the historical debris. So I decided to write it anew, starting where I am now. It’s less of a “see what’s new” and more of a “see who I am” and that makes it… more narcissistic? Ha! A good friend of mine would be telling me right now not to invalidate myself. It is what it is.
Let’s get started.
My name is Dani, my pronouns are ey/em/eirs—or they/them—and I’m queer: nonbinary, genderfluid, transgender, trixic, and polyamorous. This is all subject to change.
Wait, what?
Yes, you read that right. I’m queer now (and always have been, it turns out). It’s a big thing to discover 49 years into your life, as things go, I agree. The longer I am this me, the more I realize this is the best me.
Background for folks who don’t know me
Quick catch up: When I was born I was assigned male, and lived that way for about fifty years. I had all the boy stuff: beard, bald spot, gut, lazy attitude. Then this. And now you’re up to date!
Tell us more about, well… who you are?
I’d be happy to.
My name is Dani. That’s a change—a legal one, too—from the name I was given at birth. Picking my name was a long process, and I ran through several options (and bought domains for them!) before realizing that the people who loved me already called me this, they’d just have to start spelling it differently. I also enjoy the inherent cleverness of “Dani” being feminine, but in Spanish, being a common shortening of “Daniel,” and “Daniel” in Spanish sounds like “Danielle” in English, and… well, I am amused. To be clear, my legal name is just four letters, Dani.
I identify my gender as nonbinary. When I first recognized I was not male, I was convinced I was female: I was ready to do a full binary flip. Then, I wondered if maybe I was nonbinary, but then I decided I was just female, and then I thought maybe femme with a bit of nb? It was a whole thing, until I finally figured out that, in the galaxy of identity that can encompass our understanding of gender, I am not in either binary gravity well. Had I been assigned female at birth, I would still be nonbinary. Being misgendered as male (a frequent occurrence) hurts. Being misgendered as female (has happened twice) leaves me flustered because it also feels uncomfortable? That’s a weird feeling—I love femininity, and I love it in me—but being flustered about being called “she” is also comforting, in that it confirms that I am nonbinary.
Let me explain that more. This is important. Though I identify as nonbinary, that is not the same as not having a gender. It just means I’m not one of the two binary options. There’s so much variety once you step outside the binary. Having my femininity recognized feels good. Like really good. But so does people appreciating that I’m tall and strong? Generally people might call this genderfluid, though that’s a bit of an umbrella term itself. I don’t move between femininity and masculinity—I embody aspects of both every day—but some days I feel more one than the other, or more happy about one than the other.
I do have a deep seated fear/revulsion about embodying socialized masculine traits (often described as “toxic masculinity.”). I’m told I don’t do that, that I don’t bring that to women’s spaces… but that is hard for me to believe, deep down. Yeah, I’m in therapy, this issue is being actively worked on. Stay tuned! In the meantime, thank you for telling me you’re not threatened by me and my nails look good.
My gender expression is… me. This is… well, it’s going to keep changing, or maybe change is the status quo here. Some days I like dressing femininely, some days I like being tall and strong, some days I just want to throw on a t-shirt and jeans. Those aren’t incompatible. Gender identity and gender expression are not required to match up in some standard algorithm. Women (trans or otherwise) do not owe us femininity. Men do not owe us masculinity. Nonbinary people do not owe us androgyny. I expect my gender expression to continue being “confusing,” or maybe “awesome.” Or both.
My pronouns are ey/em/eirs. I know, I know, and if you want, falling back to they and them is perfectly fine with me. I like ey because I can use it singularly, like “Ey is going to the store.” But don’t hurt yourself. I just really don’t want you to use “him,” please. This was also a process, I was he/him for 50 years, and it took a year to become really uncomfortable being gendered male, guy, Dad. Then when I played with she/her, I couldn’t shake the weird feeling that gave me, either. I accepted that it really wasn’t me, using the time tested “it don’t feel right” method. 🙂 Ey/em (or they/them), feels right. Here’s more about ey/em/eirs, one of the Spivak pronouns.
I am transgender. The understanding of the term transgender is changing, I think. Where it used to be used to describe people who were changing genders, now, it is acknowledged that some people feel like there is no change, that they have always been the gender they are, regardless of anything else about them. I love that for them!
But while being trans is not a gender in and of itself, it can be an important part of people’s identities nonetheless.
I do identify as trans. In the purely medical sense, I’ve had processes and procedures to change my body (and brain) to match my gender, sure. But also, I understood myself to be male, I was socialized that way, I made that who I was. Now, I understand that I am not male, that I am nonbinary. I have had to work to change how I look, how I act, and how I feel, and for me, that work is embodied by understanding myself to be trans.
I’m trixic. That’s a sexual orientation defined as a nonbinary person who is attracted to feminine characteristics. For a while I considered myself a lesbian, and I do still identify strongly with lesbian culture, but again, as I’ve settled into my nonbinary identity, that seemed less accurate. Trixic is definitely a less well known term (see this definition), in that most people, even queer people, have no idea what it means. Sapphic can be a useful shorthand, in that it encompasses not just my genital preference in my partners, but the kind of relationships and love and community that I crave. In any case, I have no interest (less even than before?) in man parts playing any part in my relationships, my romance, or my sexy sex.
I’m polyamorous. Here’s the key to understand about this: I believe and revel in the idea that people can have more than one intimate, romantic, fulfilling relationship at a time. There are lots of ways to be nonmonogamous. This is mine. Yes, it’s a lot of work. Yes, it requires a lot of communication. Yes, it requires being vulnerable and open with the people you love. And… this is true for monogamous relationships, too, isn’t it?
Another idea to clear up: I do not have to be in more than one relationship to identify as polyamorous, that’s just dumb. One loving partner can be enough! Don’t make it weird.
I’m queer. So, so, so queer! When I was a kid, “queer” was an insult, one that hurt and left lasting wounds. Today, it’s been taken back as a joyful term, an umbrella for all the people who don’t fit in, who have queered the world they live in. I embrace it wholly. I’m trans, I’m gay, I’m neurodiverse, I’m polyamorous: I’m queer and I’m proud of it.
How… I mean, when… I mean, what… happened?
Yeah. I wish I had a really concrete answer to this. It happened in June of 2020, and was something of an epiphany. The gist is that there wasn’t a point where I made any kind of decision. Rather, it was a cascade of discovery, once it had occurred to me to ask the question. There was a suddenness to it that took my breath away. I have written about the moment a little (here) if you care to delve into it. Since then, I’ve continued to explore and learn about who I am and how I exist in the world. It’s been fantastic.
This is a big change!
I know!
That said, to me it feels more like recognizing a reality that has always been there, rather than a wholesale change. And yet, also, it feels like it was a long time coming. I keep thinking of events, or feelings, or memories where I say to myself, “Oh! I see now…“ Still, I see how it might seem like a big change to some of you, and I do want to acknowledge that.
For me, it’s been a long process of exploration with not a few setbacks. Since June of 2020 I’ve visited with three therapists, a psychiatrist, two psychologists, a coach, an obgyn, and a whole slew of medical doctors. I’ve had long, heartfelt talks with my journal. I’ve had longer, emotional but respectful talks with my ex/wife, who shared my life for thirty years. I have some absolutely wonderful friends who are supportive and helping me navigate all of this. I’m building community that sees me.
Through it all I’ve never wavered in my certainty that this is me.
But, why?
Why.
Some people will bristle at this question. Nobody has a right to question my identity! But I understand. Coming out as trans at 49 can be hard, and it’s not just me it affects. I have kids, I was married, I have family and friends and community and at the time I was working in politics and… I had responsibilities to all those people. And to myself, yeah, I know, I know. There were going to be consequences. And there have been.
But, and I’m paraphrasing a fictional character here, you can be sad about something and still not regret it.
Quite simply, as soon as I knew, I knew there was no denying it. I have lived an incredibly privileged life. I spent 49 years on easy mode: white, male, straight, cis. But I was depressed that whole time, living in a fog of aimlessness, failing upward, as white men are wont to do. My life now, it’s more chaotic, it’s more messy, I have hurt people and I will surely do so again, but it’s also full of color and joy and so many kinds of love… My life now is worth living.
I am a better person as this me.
That’s why.
This is all subject to change
People, at any age, continue to grow and learn and understand themselves. Who we are changes. How we are in relationship—with ourselves and others—changes. And that is not only okay, it is healthy. I will keep growing and changing and understanding myself better, and these answers will change.
I hope yours do, too.
I have more questions!
Completely expected! So do I! If you already know how to get a hold of me, then I’m very likely to want to answer your questions. Let’s chat!
If you’re a stranger, well-meaning or otherwise, I’m not taking questions or comments at this time.