Member-only story
Non-binary existence is mired in seclusion. It’s laced in thick coats of bigotry and marginalization from nearly every flank of social life. The defining trait of being non-binary is not a choice of clothing, whom to mingle with, or what resides in-between your legs–it’s the trauma. It’s always been the trauma. And that trauma, has colored the way I, and the sum of non-binary people see the world, inundating our ability to duly judge, making us hesitant to dispense of our trust, putting us at the edge of a violent reaction whenever a cursory semblance of retaliation rears its head.
Very recently, there’s been a community-wide controversy surrounding the role of political messengers on YouTube, and whether they’ve taken advantage of our existence as but a mere tool to ratify their self-ascribed activism credentials–it’s hard to believe anyone wishes you good when the only message to have been repeated within your vicinity is one of self-disgust. So when it happened, we all collectively lashed out in anger, heedless of what collateral harm it might cause in the way.
Too often, that paranoia of never being truly loved can seep into a self-fulfilling prophecy. One…
