I’m X-gender and bisexual
Note from The Feline Warrior: This article by Mx. Aya Matsushima is first published on Ripple (vol. 22) in March 2021. (Ripple is the official newsletter of the Shimane Prefectural Center for Human Rights Awareness and Advancement, Japan.) The original author and publisher retain copyright over the original Japanese article; the following English translation is the work of The Feline Warrior.
Note that the non-binary gender identity is most commonly referred to as “X-gender” in Japanese; that expression has been retained throughout this translation.
Since last year, I was finally able to say this openly and proudly. Here is a recap of my past struggles leading to my coming out. It’s a bit dark, so please keep the lights on while you read it.
The expression “LGBT” has been popular since a few years ago, and discussions about sexual diversity are also becoming increasingly more prominent. L is Lesbian, G is Gay, B is Bisexual, and T is Transgender. So what am I?
I’ve been attracted to men as well as women. Therefore, I’m bisexual, right? But that’s just who I’m attracted to; what I’m confused about, though, is my own gender. My body is female, but I’d feel rather reluctant to be called a woman; yet I’m not a man, nor do I want to become one. I’m neither male nor female, nor transgender. As a loser who doesn’t fit into either gender, I’d only sink deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of self-denial.
I’ve hated the phrase “since you’re a girl” a lot ever since I was a young kid. Whenever I was told “since you’re a girl, you shouldn’t spread your legs when you sit,” “since you’re a girl, you should use female pronouns when referring to yourself,” or “since you’re a girl, you should wear feminine clothes,” I’d always lash out. “I’m not a girl! I’m just me!” But as time went by, I got tired of lashing out. I had learned to shut up and swallow my pride, as well as to adapt to the label of “female.” I’d also learned to wear a socially-acceptable fake smile, eventually to the point where people say my smile is my best feature.
My true feelings however, as someone who’s neither female nor male, were always drowning in loneliness. Though I’d try to live as a normal person, the words “male” and “female” would always be seen and heard wherever I go. Be it restrooms, questionnaires where you’re expected to answer your gender, or people who ask “so, do you have a boyfriend?” — my heart would ache a bit. Is there really no way out of the very concept of “male” and “female,” as long as I’m alive in this world? Perhaps I was born in the wrong world. I know this may sound like an exaggeration, but such little things started to make me gradually lose my raison d’être.
The first time I heard the term “X-gender” was two years ago. When I went to Osaka and secretly attended an LGBT meetup event, I brought up — rather nervously and timidly — my own ambiguous gender that’s neither female nor male. “Ain’t that X-gender?” I was told. Wait, so there is a name for my ambiguous gender! It felt like a beam of light suddenly shone into my world of despair.
Last year, I openly came out as X-gender, and many good things have happened since then. I’ve written columns for newspapers, spoken at LGBT-themed seminars intended for high school teachers, and encountered friends with diverse gender identities, through whom I realized that I was certainly not the only lonely soul around.
What troubles me the most now, however, is the fact that I can’t come out to anyone in my family. My mom was always saying that she hoped to see me get married and have kids soon, and I wanted to grant her wish. So I had, at last, got myself a man who was willing to marry me, but I couldn’t get my mom to like him, and eventually I ended up cutting ties with her and the rest of my family. Even then, I still thought perhaps her mind would change if I had a child, so I considered it; yet, it was not until then that I finally realized, as someone who’s neither male nor female, I’d feel extremely reluctant to give birth — something only a female could do — and this marriage, which I entered for no reason other than wanting to be validated, also fell apart within a year. I became estranged from my family without even letting them know about my divorce. Now whenever I walk past a family that looks happy, I’d think that I also would’ve just got married, had kids, and had a great relationship with my family — had I been an ordinary woman.
However, such regrets notwithstanding, I still feel happier now than I ever have in my entire life. After coming out, I’ve come to terms with my true feelings, and I’ve grown to like myself. Though I still get “since you’re a woman” from time to time, that does not bother me; instead, I’d think “oh you poor thing, you can see nothing but only my female side!” but still respond accordingly, wearing my well-trained socially-acceptable fake smile. And thanks to my estrangement from my family and inability to rely on anyone, I had to become completely independent, both emotionally and financially. Now I’m working hard to reach higher goals, so that one day I’ll be able to financially support my beloved partner.
The loneliness stemmed from my ambiguous gender, as well as the discord it’s sown between me and my family, has only made me even stronger. I don’t need people to understand me — certainly not my mom or other family members; if there’s just one person that understands me, that’s good enough. And indeed, I have finally met such a person — myself. Now I take great pride in being X-gender and bisexual, which I consider very cool characteristics. Like a once-empty balloon filled up with loneliness, I’m floating in the sky all by myself; I see this as the starting point of my independence. Loneliness isn’t so bad, even though I’m still weak and delicate (hence the balloon analogy — no one knows when a balloon will deflate or break).
I spent much of my teenage years and my 20s thinking about how to die; now in my 30s, having grown out of it, I feel nothing but joy and happiness. Along with me, myself and I — the person who understands me the most — I will continue to float like a balloon in this vast, boundless world.