He’s gotten a lot better, but he still sometimes messes up. I try to kindly correct him when he slips up, and he tries to understand when I get frustrated with him. I sometimes get discouraged and feel overwhelmed. But he reassures me that he’ll get this down, and all of this will become our norm soon.
But I also know that love shouldn’t, and doesn’t, have a defined look
Reactions from other family members about my pronouns have varied. Some of them choose to sidestep my pronoun use and just use “McKenna.” Others try to be supportive, but have this mentality of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” Some questioned my need to come out in the first place, believing that non-binary gender should be the norm anyway. Others dare not say anything negative but are visibly embarrassed when I correct them, specifically when they refer to me around people outside of the family.
By the time I came out, our twins were already a year old, and they were calling me “mama.” I not only felt uncomfortable with being called “mama,” but also felt distressed by the roles that often came along with being a mother, like being the primary caregiver, doing the majority of the housework, and being the go-to person to make decisions pertaining to our children. After some thought, I decided that I want to be called “momo.” At first, I felt guilty about changing what my babies called me. ed. I couldn’t and didn’t want to be a woman or a mother. I also experienced backlash from some women in my life who felt like by identifying as non-binary, I was judging or renouncing femaleness in general, and their own roles within their families.
And what that means for our respective sexualities and our relationship
Greg asks questions and doesn’t make assumptions. He’s sensitive, respectful, and open. For a long time, our conversations about gender revolved around me getting dressed in the morning, which was often difficult for me. It wasn’t unusual for me to try on my entire closet, and all of my clothes often ended up in a pile on the floor. I’d cycle between saying through tears, “this is too feminine,” and, “this is too masculine.” These “clothing crises” as we called them have pretty much stopped since coming out. But I still have days where I’m bothered by certain aspects of my physical body, like my breasts, or my hips. Greg thinks I look good no matter how I present-man, woman, or a little of both. Although I know this, sometimes I struggle with believing it. I rarely see people who present like I do. And I even more rarely come across other non-cisgender couples. I’m sure they are out there, because we are. Because of this, my mind sometimes starts going down the “there must be something wrong with us” road. Greg doesn’t make space for this way of thinking.
I notice the looks we sometimes get when we are out together. I’m terrible at mind-reading, although I’ll often say otherwise, but I’m guessing people are trying to figure out what we are. More specifically, what I am-male or female. My guess is that trying to figure us out can make people’s heads spin. If I were asked to describe our relationship in terms of gender and sexuality, I don’t think I’d be able to. But, here it goes…I’m sometimes male, sometimes female, often both, and sometimes neither. And Greg is male. Sometimes, we are a hetero- couple, sometimes a gay couple, but most of the time we live outside of the established labels altogether.
