. In North America, Indigenous cultures recognise “two-spirit” people who combine masculine and feminine energies.

'Let me homogenize hundreds of different cultures across an entire continent, and then use them as a prop for my narcissistic nonsense.' So progressive!

"The challenges of being something that doesn't exist"

So, uh, which one is it? The evil cis women glare at you because they think you're a man in the bathroom, or the evil cis women address you as "lady" or "one of the girls"? This "article" is so obviously full of lies.

The Challenges of Being Non-Binary or, How I Expect The World to Affirm my Narcissistic Delusions by Yves Reeeeeeeeeeeeeees into the void.

Non-binary genders are also associated with higher rates of self-harm and substance abuse, according to Australian research from 2020. The same study found that 70 per cent of non-binary people experienced depression, compared to 52 per cent of binary trans people.

Ooooooo, I dare the author to say that to a tim. That's a binary you're definitely supposed to acknowledge in QT, that tims have it the hardest.

Archive

‘I’m neither man nor woman, but I must pretend’ By Yves Rees October 24, 2021 — 5.00am

Before the movie begins, I duck off to the bathrooms. Down a dim corridor I find the signs: F and M. The same old binary. There’s no other choice. For the umpteenth time, I sigh. Which of two bad options to choose today? I’m neither man nor woman, but I must pretend to be one or the other if I’m to empty my bursting bladder. Outside the entrance, I hesitate, weighing up the dilemma.

The gents is emitting a miasma of stale urine, plus it probably only has one stall: what if it’s already occupied? The ladies, however, is risky. Since I cropped my hair and started binding my breasts, I’ve been attracting hostile stares from women perturbed by my presence in this feminine space. Even though I avert my eyes and scuttle straight to a stall, I feel each curious look, each cold glare, each double-take. They burn hot on my skin.

This bathroom dilemma is one of countless moments each day when non-binary people come into conflict with a binary world.

What to do? I just want to pee and then watch a movie, not have my identity scrutinised by strangers. And no matter which option I choose, I’ll be misgendering myself.

This bathroom dilemma is one of countless moments each day when non-binary people like me come into conflict with a binary world. No matter where we turn, the binary is near impossible to avoid. Clothing stores are divided into menswear and womenswear. MCs welcome “ladies and gentlemen”. When I sign up for the local Parkrun, I must declare myself man or woman. There is no third option. If I contract COVID-19, I’ll be reported as a “woman in her 30s”.

Out in the world, non-binary people are erased, wiped off the domain of the possible. We know ourselves to be neither men nor women, but the world refuses to acknowledge that people like us can even exist. Our self-knowledge is dismissed. Through the architecture of everyday life, we are made inconceivable. There’s literally no space for us.

This was brought into stark relief in early 2021, when the singer Sam Smith – who came out as non-binary in 2019 – was deemed ineligible for both the solo male and solo female artist gongs at the Brit Awards. Despite being one of the top British pop artists of recent decades, there was simply no solo artist award for which Smith could be nominated. The categories exclude them from the whole endeavour.

Then there are the assumptions people make. Each day, complete strangers presume to know our gender, slotting us into one of two boxes. At a cafe, the waiter asks, “Now, what can I get you girls? Would you like some coffees to start?” On the street, a parent shoos their child out of my way: “Careful, watch out for the lady!”

My dilemma, the non-binary dilemma, is to make my gender legible in a world that refuses to see it. The cumulative effect is exhausting. To be told, again and again, that non-binary people can’t exist, that my gender isn’t real, is like an unending sequence of paper cuts.

Our everyday speech is peppered with assumptions about the gender of people we encounter. Within half a second, without any conscious effort, our brains sort the bodies in our vicinity: M or F, male or female, he or she.

My dilemma, the non-binary dilemma, is to make my gender legible in a world that refuses to see it. The cumulative effect is exhausting. To be told, again and again, that non-binary people can’t exist, that my gender isn’t real, is like an unending sequence of paper cuts. Each cut is a minor irritant, easy to ignore. But with enough cuts, over time, you’re reduced into one big open wound, bleeding all over the place.

But it doesn’t have to be like this. We could acknowledge that gender is more varied than a crude binary. Alok Vaid-Menon, author of Beyond the Gender Binary, explains that “the real crisis is not that gender non-conforming people exist, it’s that we’ve been taught to believe in only two genders in the first place”. If the true crisis is the false belief in binary gender, the solution is to expand our imagination of what gender can be. In truth, people who are not men and women are not deluded or sick or dangerous; we’re part of the glorious variation of humanity.

Although non-binary is sometimes derided as a new fashion, diverse genders have a long history. For instance, the recent study of a thousand-year-old grave in Finland suggests that the individual in question lived outside the gender binary. The presence of feminine and masculine objects in the grave, plus physical evidence from the skeleton, led researchers to conclude that “it was a respected person whose gender identity may well have been non-binary”.

Diverse genders remain common in many cultures today. In North America, Indigenous cultures recognise “two-spirit” people who combine masculine and feminine energies. An estimated 168 Indigenous languages in the United States have terms to describe someone who is neither a man nor a woman. In Australia, First Nations people use the terms “brotherboy” and “sistergirl” to describe genders beyond the binary. Diverse genders are widespread elsewhere, including hijra in India, fa’afafine in Samoa, and ogbanje among the Igbo people of Nigeria.

As Europe colonised the world, the binary came to dominate our imaginations. But gender diversity has always been here: called different things, understood in different ways, cropping up again and again wherever there are people. It’s part of our humanity.

Non-binary people aren’t counted, so our very existence is effectively erased by the state. My life, along with other gender diverse lives, is made inconceivable. We are reduced to shadow citizens, living outside the realm of the possible.

So how many non-binary people are there in Australia today? The answer is that we don’t know – and that’s part of the problem. The Australian census only asks about sex and doesn’t collect data on gender identity, so there are no authoritative stats on the trans and gender diverse (TGD) population. Non-binary people aren’t counted, so our very existence is effectively erased by the state. My life, along with other gender diverse lives, is made inconceivable. We are reduced to shadow citizens, living outside the realm of the possible.

On a more practical level, our absence from demographic data also means that TGD people cannot be allocated the funding and services we so desperately need. Because we’re not counted, our requirements for appropriate healthcare and specialised amenities can be overlooked. All in all, when you’re non-binary, the world can feel a hostile place.

All TGD people face stigma and prejudice, but it’s generally easier for our binary world to understand and accommodate those who transition from one side to the other.

A male-assigned person who starts living as a woman, or female-assigned person who starts living as a man, can still be located within the gender binary that shapes our world. By contrast, non-binary people are sitting on the sidelines, thumbing their nose at the whole endeavour. In practice, this makes daily life an uphill battle. Although the entire TGD community suffer elevated rates of mental illness and distress, research suggests that non-binary people experience particularly poor health outcomes. A British study of trans youth, published in 2019, found that non-binary participants “experienced significantly more anxiety and depression and had significantly lower self-esteem than the binary group”. The study concluded that being non-binary in a binary world comes with “greater barriers and feelings of discrimination”

When Elliot Page (pictured) announced he was transgender he said he felt “profoundly happy” and aware of his position of privilege but also “scared of the invasiveness, the hate, the ‘jokes’ and the violence” often thrown at transgender people.

Non-binary genders are also associated with higher rates of self-harm and substance abuse, according to Australian research from 2020. The same study found that 70 per cent of non-binary people experienced depression, compared to 52 per cent of binary trans people. On almost every measure, non-binary people have a rough ride. This is not to minimise the very real struggles of binary trans people, but rather to acknowledge that non-binary folk experience unique challenges that stem from being at odds with the gender system that organises our world.

But maybe that gender system is the real problem here? After all, gender norms and expectations are damaging to everyone, trans or otherwise. Women are told to be thin, but not too thin; pretty but not airheads, but not so smart they intimidate men. They must be sexy but not a “slut”.

Confident but not aggressive, maternal yet not mumsy. Men are stifled by their own set of suffocating rules. They must be tough and strong, but not remote or aggressive; they should be a “good guy” but not a wimp who cries. A family man, but not a doormat.

For everyone, the standards are impossible and impossibly narrow. Every day is a new test, an endless gender exam in front of a thousand judging eyes. “The gender binary is set up for us to fail. For us all to fail,” Vaid-Menon explains. We’ve all been sold a pup.

Faced with this broken gender system, living outside the gender binary is an act of resistance. The good news is that more and more people are doing so. A poll of 15,000 Americans, released in 2021, found Gen Z has the biggest trans contingent of any generation to date. Nearly 2 per cent identify as trans, compared to 1.2 per cent of Millennials and 0.2 per cent of Baby Boomers. At a moment when the future can seem grim, this is a rare trend that gives me hope for the coming decades.

Maybe one day, before too long, I’ll be able to visit a public bathroom without stress, because the facilities will accommodate all genders. As we look forward to a world beyond COVID lockdowns, I envisage a time when everyone can go to the movies without worrying if there’s somewhere safe to take a leak.

All About Yves: Notes from a Transition (Allen & Unwin) by Yves Rees is out now.

What a load of self indulgent waffle. So you need to pee? Go and pee. There are plenty of fairly flat chested women out there with short hair who don't make a massive meal out of it. So someone gives you a funny look, so what? Gaah.

The challenge of being non-binary - having the right hiking gear to climb over my monstrous ego and self obsession to simply exist in the ordinary world where funnily enough, you are not the centre of everything.

Fucking idiots. Confusing gender and sex. Pretending to be non-binary gender doesn't erase your sex. You are non-binary and a woman.

So she’s a woman?

I can’t wait for the moment we treat being NB as a jokey fad of long past.

Has anyone seen my tiny violin?