Some History
I was raised in a loving Christian family my entire childhood. Generally, this is not a bad thing. My parents always did what they felt was best for me, and provided for me in ways I can only appreciate as an adult.
There are downsides to being raised in a devout Christian family, however. While I had parents who told me they loved me every night as they tucked me into bed, there were rules that had to be followed. Rules like, “Thou shalt not question thy gender”, and “Thou shalt not question thy sexuality.” There were other rules of course, but these are the two that most pertain to this writing.
When I was eight years old I began to question my gender, and my sexuality. I loved the Greek and Roman mythological character Hermaphroditus, and I appreciated the look of androgyny (not that I knew it was called that then) and longed to be either a hermaphrodite, androgynous, or both.
I was not only met with heavy resistance from my parents, but also with a heavy dose of fear and intimidation. They reacted so strongly that I actually feared I would either not survive the encounter or that I would end up abandoned and unloved because I wasn’t the “Good little Christian boy” they desired. I was so scared by their reaction, and my fears of what would happen if I continued to question my gender and sexual orientation, that I locked this all up in a mental box and pushed it as far back into my mind as I could.
Recent Events
Over the years I would find this “mental box” tucked away in my mind and each time I was too terrified to even acknowledge it existed. I continued to love the look of androgyny and I found the classical image of the hermaphrodite exceedingly attractive, however I refused to think about why this was. I wasn’t allowed to think about these things, and I even felt guilty for my appreciation of the androgynous or hermaphroditic form. It was my guilty pleasure that I was terrified someone would find out about.
Ten years ago this fall I met a wonderful young woman, who as of this October I will have been in a relationship with for seven years. She explained at the beginning of our romantic relationship that she is asexual, and I began to research what that meant. Along the way I determined that I was demi-sexual (though I’m re-examining how I feel about that) and I began to break away from the mandated cis-het role I’d been forced to comply with my whole life.
Earlier this year I met another wonderful young woman who I became friends with rather quickly. Recently, she and I began an Adult Nursing Relationship. She is not one for small talk, and in getting to know each other she asked some very deep, and poignant questions. These questions brought me back to that mental box I’d been avoiding for so long. This time, however, instead of being a terrified eight-year-old who had no idea how to handle anything regarding that situation, I was finally in a loving and nurturing environment and relationship that helped me to open myself up and re-evaluate my thoughts and feelings.
Through the course of several weeks, and many, many conversations with dear friends and chosen family, I finally made a decision. The day before San Antonio Pride 2018, a little over a week ago, I chose to come out as bigender.
Coming Out
The last few weeks have been a sort of mental and emotional rollercoaster in my head, though I think (or at least I’d like to think) that I’ve kept a more calm exterior throughout it all. Choosing to accept myself, all of my self, as I am, was difficult. I’m going against a lifetime of teaching and indoctrination that says I will burn in hell forever for not being cis-het. I am still trying to reconcile my religious beliefs with choosing to recognize myself as being bigender. The fact is, though, that I am and I have always been this way.
How I Feel
I am not male. I am not female. I am both; I am half and half, in a mutually-beneficial symbiotic union. To my knowledge, I was not born intersex, yet I feel as if I am and have always been equally male and female. Were it possible, and feasable, I would opt to be remade in a body as equally male and female as possible. I do not desire to be viewed as one or the other, but as a third non-binary option.
I am not going to get hung-up on pronouns, as both male and female pronouns do technically apply. They are not the “whole picture”, however I recognize that the English language is rather terrible when it comes to gender-neutral pronouns. Just be respectful when addressing me or referring to me and it’ll all be fine.
Until I chose to come out I had spent an inordinate amount of time trying to project an alpha-male, hyper-masculine persona to the world. I did this out of fear. I feared reprisal from those who would see me as weak because I was different, I feared disownment from my blood relations, and I feared eternal damnation from the God I was told loved me…as long as I was just like everyone else He loves. It has taken a lot for me to work through all of this, and honestly I’ve still got more to work through and resolve. But I feel I am finally on the right path and I am honestly truely happy for the first time ever.
I have chosen to abandon my hyper-masculine persona for one that is more androgynous. I shaved my beard, cut my hair, and over time I will be making other changes to present myself in a way that I feel represents who I really am. There are going to be some growing pains, and it’s going to take a while for me to adjust and for everyone else to become accustomed to the new me. I appreciate everyone’s support and patience while I figure this all out.
