A Journey Toward Inceptions

by Marc Ridgell

When I was younger and still in my “he/him” era, I did not mind those pronouns due to my (slight) perceived innocence as a Black boy. Honestly, I had no idea that nonbinary was an identity that existed and one that I could identify with. While gender expression does not necessarily correlate to gender identity, mine did. For instance, when I was seven and eight, I loved watching the liturgical dancers when I went to church. I loved liturgical dancing so much to the point that, when I would go home, I used to wrap blankets around my waist and dance to gospel music. No one in my family judged me--I was only “being a kid.” Also, my voice has always been feminine, and while I used to get teased for talking “like a girl,” because I was so young, my voice was acceptable.

At 11 and 12, before I had the language to express my gender identity, I thought that this person who I was at 7 was just “gay.” I thought that my feminine expression had everything to do with my sexuality and nothing to do with my gender. In this era, my male classmates (at my Black and Catholic grammar school) began to make fun of me more, and more particularly, the inflection of my voice. While my voice deepened, my femininity became more present. My mannerisms started to consist of snaps and rolled eyes. I expressed anger in a fashion that Black boys should not follow.

When I got to high school, one that was predominantly-white, Catholic, and all-boys, I was still this same person. I did not conform to the hegemonic culture of my high school, and I was definitely seen and more vulnerable. During my early years of high school, I also began to understand how I was gendered in a racialized way. The Black boys at my high school were typically more masculine, were athletes, and were perceived as heterosexual. I was not one of these signifiers, and this unintentionally disrupted common perceptions of young Black malehood. Despite feeling unsafe at times and unwelcome for being myself, I still was just myself and began to grow more into who I am now.

Within this period of growth, I remember the first time I came out using both “he” and “they” pronouns. I was in my senior year of high school, and I told two of my closest friends (who also happened to be queer). Only at 17, I began to realize that I did not see myself fitting the social construction of what a “Black man” is, the implications that arise when people think of “manhood,” and how being referred to in a space as “he” and “him” made me feel uncomfortable. Since early high school, even though I was proud of my Black and gay identities, and I was very knowledgeable about the relationship between race, gender, and sexuality, I became more knowledgeable about gender nonconformity and pronouns.

When I matriculated to college and saw and met other trans-identifying folks, I felt more comfortable coming out as “he” and “they.” In college, however, a new awareness arose. I met more cisgender gay male students and realized that some gay men internalize normative conditions and performances of masculinity, in turn discriminating against or harming queer-femme, transgender, and nonbinary individuals. Experiencing femmephobia and marginalization influenced me to feel even more resistant against what it means to “be a man.”

The isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic encouraged me to expand my gender expression, and I started to prefer “they” more over “he.” I started painting my nails, wearing more crop tops, and showing off my legs in short shorts. Concurrently, I started to read more academic literature and watching more media surrounding Black queer identity. In my new expression of self and theorization of the world around me, I felt more comfortable in a gender without constraints. I became fascinated with the idea of thinking of my gender, self, and progression through life as an “inception,” a start, an exploration, a progression toward something new and a beginning.

While describing my past life to now in the present as an inception seems contradictory, it should not be. My life is just getting started, and a new and longer path for gender exploration and identity development exists. Currently in my “they” and “them” era, multiple inceptions are to come. I hope then that, in the future, today’s elders and kids--especially those Black like me--get to explore a potential new side of their gender expression, performance, and identity, too.