Non-binary: An introduction to another way of thinking about identity

Do not assume you can tell someone’s gender identity just by looking at their gender presentation.

Through all of the public debate this last week arising from some unsavoury journalism, through the progressive blog series on this very website you will notice an absence of one term: non-binary. Can anybody easily tell me what this means? No? I didn’t think so. Don’t worry, that’s ok, I’m here to educate.

I’d like to sit with you and explain with eye contact, anecdotes and genuine sharing what Non-Binary is, but for now I’m going to contend with sharing the facts. They are so unknown I have to use this opportunity to help you understand. Hopefully there will be another time for me to share my own story.

Trans is in fact an umbrella term which incorporates many different identities, including transsexual, transvestites, transgender and non-binary. We are taught that both sex and gender exist within a binary model; male/female or man/woman. When the mainstream media talk about the trans community it is within the confines of these binary identities - “WOMAN BORN A MAN” or something similar.

But, if you start thinking about gender and what it means to move across genders and how we present our gender identity, imagine what it would be like to remove the idea of gender completely – to exist beyond or between the binary.

There is a staggering lack of knowledge amongst the majority of the public on this. I’m not sure if this is because we don’t or can’t allow our minds to wander. Whatever the case, in my role as one of NUS LGBT Officers I spend a lot of time educating and sharing what I know with students. I also do this in the pub, in the shops, in the library, with my friends and even with my family.

Like other trans people, non-binary people sometimes experience a sense of dysphoria (the sense of their body being wrong in terms of sex) but it doesn't necessarily correlate to firm ideas of "male" and "female" in the same way that it does for some trans women and men.

As part of a non-binary identity, gender may be a more fluid concept, so the idea of a "fixed" gender would not be fitting. Because of this fluidity, someone’s identity and how they see themselves in the world might change over time.

If you exist beyond or between the binary of male/female or man/woman, then the use of common pronouns or titles may not feel comfortable for you, (Mr/Miss/he/she). I am a firm believer that while language is sometimes seen as set, it is in fact malleable, and can and should be used to adapt to new identities. In the case of non-binary, it is possible to use Mx or M as a title, and while used sometimes in the plural sense "they" is usually the easiest pronoun to use, while some do choose other pronouns to suit their identity.

As far as I am aware, legally trans people are covered in the sense of existing within the binary or medically transitioning. However the Equality Act doesn’t seem to cover people who are not medically transitioning from one defined gender to another.

We don’t drop bombs, we don’t crash economies, and this education is actually free. But we remain unequal, largely unrecognised, without public debate or widespread recognition. I hope this is one small step to change that, even for a handful of people.

This was a very brief lesson in non-binary and can I just ask you to take the following points home and dare I hope it – share with your friends?

Do not assume you can tell someone’s gender identity just by looking at their gender presentation. In terms of asking an individual about their preferred pronoun, my advice would be to ask everyone within a group their preferred pronoun or ask no one. Choosing an individual whom you read as trans may be isolating and might "out" their trans status without meaning to. If you have questions, try to remember that this isn’t just theory but often someone’s personal life and experience.  Invite someone to come and do training in your workplace, college or university. If you are compiling data or creating a form to collect research try to include identities beyond the binary. Options could include male/female/prefer not to say/other. 

Sky Yarlett, 23, is one of two NUS LGBT Officers. You can follow both on Twitter as @NUS_LGBT

Where can I find out more information?

Each person’s identity is individual to their experiences but there are lots of resources which can help to provide information and a basic understanding.

Often most helpful is to hear personal experiences.

This is a useful link which provides information and guidance on non-binary:

www.nonbinary.org.

This is a website in which peoples’ experiences are documented and individuals’ questions can be asked and answered:

www.liberateyourself.co.uk

This is the "Think Outside The Box" website which provides guidance and examples to including Trans and Non-Binary identities within forms:

www.totb.org.uk

This is the NUS LGBT Trans Students guide which provides a brief introduction to Trans and the issues Trans students may face and how to include Trans people within the LGBT society:

http://www.nusconnect.org.uk/asset/News/6015/LGBT_TransGuide1.pdf

 

 

The majority of the public isn't aware of the issues around moving beyond gender completely. Photograph: Getty Images
Qusai Al Shidi/Flickr
Show Hide image

I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war