Model, Elie Che, discusses personal identity and gender categorisation
words Elie Che
photography Silvijah Gec
There is a quote from Club Kid, Richie Rich, that really sticks with me: “Everyone’s calling me a freak show. If they look at me and be rude, then I’ll look at myself and be nice!” This is how I feel that every person who does not fall into the gender-conforming normative should react to negative criticism. There has yet to be a day where people are not looking, staring and trying to figure out the correct pronouns to call me - or in some cases, overtly calling me the wrong ones. It is the nature of how my society instinctively thinks, yet I am here to join the current growing movement, working to break down the ways in which society categorises one another and give a new perspective towards gender and life.
Although I identify as being non-binary - which does not fall into either gender category (male or female) - I prefer to express my physicality with feminine characteristics. While our brains are hardwired to process that “a woman’s face and body looks like this, a man’s face and body looks like this, ” do not forget that what makes an attribute feminine or masculine, both terms that are socially constructed standards, often vary based on an individual’s area of residence, generation, and culture. Preferring to be viewed as a human being, rather than placing emphasis on a particular gender and the preconceived notions of what is right or wrong in relation to sex, I have no issue wearing items that are presumed to be made for a woman’s figure because I like the way they look on my body, irrespective of other’s beliefs.
Even though I don’t have gender dysphoria - a condition that many trans women and men struggle with before their transition periods begin - I still identify with the woman within myself. This is not solely a case of physicality but encompasses my energy and personality as well. I often find myself wondering about the thoughts of men and how they think, for I have never had, what some would class as, a man’s brain. In the past, friends have told me, “you think like a woman would.” I later realized how true that comment was - a reminder that this is who I have always been since I was a child and validating who I am today.
Yet, it has been a long road coming. My background was not all that welcoming to anything other than the cis heteronormative way of living. I was mostly raised in Atlanta, Georgia by a single mother who worked hard to build a life for my twin and me on her own accord. Whilst I have the utmost respect for my mom, we have not always seen eye to eye. She struggled to accept who I was and I frequently felt like I could not be myself around her. It was as if I had to adhere to the sentiments of who she wanted me to be, which of course had a negative effect on me.
I remember when I came out to her as being gay, the only way she felt she could accept my sexuality was under the compromise that I did become or behave as a woman. It was sad to hear that she would only accept my identity up to a certain degree. Regardless, with my move to London for university at 19 years old, I truly blossomed. Coming from a home where I could not be my most authentic self into an environment where I was accepted no matter what was extremely healing. It gave me the opportunity to finally express the way I feel inside without the judgement of my family.
Still, I battled with accepting my own figure and features. While I do enjoy wearing women’s clothing, in the past I have had insecurities about my body, wishing that my arms and shoulders were smaller and less muscular, or that my hips were wider. I felt like I needed to hide those aspects of my physique to feel comfortable dressing how I loved to. “Are you a crossdresser?” someone once asked me. I had not yet pieced together my identity so being asked that question for the first time confused me. I asked my Godmother whether she thought I was a crossdresser and she replied, “you’re a beautiful being.” Once I came out as being non-binary, I decided to use the term ‘beautiful being’ when expressing my identity - a means of breaking the codes and standards in western society of what men or women usually look like. I finally realised that I do not need to change any aspect of myself to feel happy with my body. I will never look like a cisgender woman and I have no desire to.
Now, when asked whether I am a drag queen or a trans woman, I realise that my existence causes people to question their knowledge of gender categorisation and in order to feel at peace within themselves, they must figure me out. “Well, you are wearing women’s clothes, makeup and long hair, but you don’t want to be a fully transitioned woman or a drag queen?” I can see people struggle with this process when they are confronted by who I am. The majority of the time, I am called “he” or “him” without a thought to politely ask about my pronoun preference. I do not let myself worry too much about how I am addressed - as gender does not define me - yet, I would prefer to be called my name, once we have been properly introduced. In truth, my identity is a fluid concept, as are those of the queer people who express themselves through many different identities, and society must come to terms with the fact that a one-sided perception of queer/femme individuals no longer applies.
“when asked whether I am a drag queen or a trans woman, I realise that my existence causes people to question their knowledge of gender categorisation and in order to feel at peace within themselves, they must figure me out.”
Yet, this constrained notion of gender and identity is prevalent even within the LGBTQIA community, where misunderstandings and lack of sensitivity can and often do fester. Recently, I was interviewed for a magazine where I was asked to discuss queer rights. The cisgendered white, gay men who were interviewing me, focused on how far we have come and the things we have to be grateful for. However, there were no references or acknowledgements to my feelings and experiences as a queer person of colour. Unfortunately, this is one of many examples where communities that promote inclusivity are still blind to the experiences of people of colour today. Failing to be aware of different cultural experiences of identity and expression is disrespectful and lazy. Although it is important to acknowledge those accomplishments of our queer family, it is just as important to represent all the different facets of our queer community.
And while the LGBTQIA community has come a long way, in terms of rights, my openly queer peers and I are still faced with challenges that many people are not aware of or do not take the time to acknowledge. Entering into certain spaces can feel similar to prey walking into a foreign land, with new potential for attack and abuse. I find people are constantly staring and - depending on the area - making snide remarks. Sadly, that is not the worst of it, with rising incidents of physical attack on queer individuals. The fact that we have to take precautions in terms of navigating where we visit and how we present ourselves sounds ridiculous but a necessity in order to ensure our safety. I always remember to bring a long jacket with me just to cover up some skin for fear of men harassing me on the streets. When I’m walking past a group of men alone I get scared thinking, “please, don’t talk to me.” And considering my aesthetic, there are times when men will assume me to be a cisgender woman, but upon noticing one of my masculine traits, such as my voice, they become extremely defensive of the fact that they initially found me attractive. In one instance I was pushed to the ground for this individual’s wrong assumption.
So how do we start to address these issues?
Normative society lacks adequate representation of people like me in the media, which can act as a step towards normalising respect for the queer community. By not representing queer people, we continue to be viewed as outcasts to the world, which only adds fuel to the fire. The environment I grew up in tried to place me in a box, attached labels to each of us and ties us to prescribed standards but we need a push from society to be open to different people’s experiences. One of the main reasons I am so comfortable being myself is because it is unconformable not being myself. There are many individuals living in our communities who struggle with acceptance of who they are based on a narrow-minded perception of identity and gender. I hope that we can all work towards a future which celebrates self-expression and freedom of choice as the norm for everyone. And that’s what I stand for.
Essay orginally featured in POSTSCRIPT Issue 1.