Agender means “no gender’. Literally. I know, I just called myself “non-binary”. But agender is non-binary.
Here’s a chart that basically sums it up!
There. Non-binary is an “umbrella term” (which means anyone on that chart could use it, because it applies.).
Sometimes (like with cisgender people), humans are happy with the gender they are assigned at birth. That wasn’t my case. As a child, I hated pink. With a passion. And with that I hated anything confining me to the female gender (any and everything from dresses to “boys on the left, girls on the right”). Which worried (and still worries) my parents. I am the only “girl” they have. They have 3 boys, and then there’s me. So I think they wanted me to embrace my femininity. Which I really didn’t have a desire to do.
That was a large roadblock in finding my gender identity. I was so scared that my family wouldn’t let me express myself as not having a sex (or gender). I was so honestly terrified about taking away my dad’s little girl.
But I couldn’t stand “she”. I couldn’t stand the dressed being forced on me. I couldn’t stand the idea of having to be “her” for the rest of my life.
And then I discovered Instagram.
My mom didn’t know I had an Instagram (she still doesn’t. there’s too much gay there).
The first thing I did was look up different lgbt accounts and follow them (I’ll list some favorites below!), and then, I applied to be an admin of a lgbt+ account (If you’re a closeted lgbt+, I definitely recommend applying for one. Just search #adminsneeded on the explore page and look for accounts that you like. It’s a great way to feel more comfortable about yourself, and you make great friends in the process.)
I’m now an admin of multiple accounts and I have great friends on all of them (I love you Gabby, Mac, Natasha, Nate, Pennalopie, and Al)
So yea. That helped.
I definitely became more aware and comfortable with my sexuality and gender.
But then the problem with my family and coming out.
I remember a night when I was 12, and I insisted that shoes were genderfluid, and that girls can wear whatever boys can, and my parents sat me down and asked me if I liked girls. Of course I (being the awkward human I am) giggled uncomfortably and blushed. But my answer was true.
I knew they wouldn’t be upset. Worried (being as they are Christians), yes. But not angry. But I had told the truth.
And then the next question:
“Do you think you’re a girl.”
I had laughed. There was my chance.
But I didn’t grab it. Not fully.
“Well,” I had said, biting my lip, trying to get the right words. “No. Not exactly. I don’t like dresses, I like pants. I don’t like pink. I like green. I don’t like… I don’t like being confined to a tiny box and being told to stay there or I’m weird. I…I don’t feel like I’m a girl. I don’t feel like I’m a boy either. I feel…somewhere in between? Or nowhere at all.”
I remember those words, because they are so strong to me. They are what I feel needed to be said.
But my mother’s response broke my heart.
“Brooke, you’re a girl. There’s no in between.”
I hated those words.
But now, I’m fine with my parents not thinking I exist.
I know I do.
LGBTQIA++ INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS TO FOLLOW
(i hate to shout myself out but an account I admin is @excited_lgbt !)
that’s pretty weird dude.