- I came out as gay a decade ago but discovered that gay spaces were not as inclusive as I'd expected.
- I realized that growing up, I not only had issues with heterosexuality but also with masculinity.
I remember being attracted to men from a young age. Every time I had to shower after PE class, I felt both excitement and anxiety. If I peeked too closely, I knew it could be used as an excuse to bully me.
Though I didn't understand it back then, I had my first crush at 14. J was a close confidant and my best friend's boyfriend. During a sleepover, I took a picture of him lying right next to me, smiling in his bluish-gray pajamas.
But I didn't meet anyone openly gay or queer until I left A Coruña, my hometown in Spain, and felt free to explore my identity and find a community. Ten years ago, I came out to my friends during my first year of college in Madrid. I struggled to find the freedom and acceptance I really needed — until I came out as nonbinary.
Madrid felt like an inclusive haven, but I soon discovered the limitations of gay spaces
After accepting my sexuality, I felt like I had found where I belonged in Madrid's gay nightlife. For some time, I spent almost every weekend night dancing in the basement of a gay club, ready to enjoy the youth that I had repressed back home. For the first time, I felt included and protected within those walls, belonging to a community that celebrated people like me.
It didn't take long for me to realize that these spaces were not as open as I'd hoped they would be. One night, my friend Marta, a cisgender woman, was refused entry to a club in Chueca, Madrid's gay neighborhood, while the rest of the group — composed of masculine-appearing people — had no issues. We decided to go somewhere else that night.
If you belong to a minority group, homogeneous spaces can be a community-building tool and a safe environment where you can explore your identity along with those who look like you. But instead of affirming, I found gay bars and all-male groups to be too exclusive. All the gay spaces I went to started to feel like a replica of the masculinity I grew up fearing.
Before moving to Madrid, I struggled to perform heterosexuality; I never thought I would also have trouble fitting into gay circles.
The isolation of the pandemic helped me re-examine my identity
When the Spanish government closed the country's internal borders, I was visiting my family. For two months, we were only allowed to leave the house for grocery shopping and taking out the trash. But my parents worked in person, so I had plenty of time on my own.
That's when I started reading more about nonbinary and genderqueer identities, which helped me realize that my unease was not limited to a heteronormative sexual orientation. Describing myself as nonbinary felt like a more nuanced way to describe how I interact and present to the world — a more encompassing way of embracing my inner queerness.
Being nonbinary, for me, has been an encompassing term to escape the constraints of masculinity — both straight and gay.
At 25 — a little over a decade after having my first gay crush — I started talking more openly about my identity with my inner circle. Most were not surprised when I started describing myself as nonbinary. My best friend said she knew I struggled to conform to masculinity's standards and felt like my second coming out was a natural next step.
Describing myself as nonbinary is a work in progress
Many times, especially on official forms, I still choose "male" as my gender marker for fear of creating confusion — and for fear of not being taken seriously. Sometimes, I simply don't want to explain my inner gender journey.
As someone with a masculine gender expression, I'm still hesitant to define myself as nonbinary since many people still have preconceived ideas about how nonbinary people "should" look.
If escaping the gender binary has taught me anything, it's that there are no correct ways to express one's gender. The beauty of being part of a broad gender spectrum lies in the freedom to understand and embrace your own evolving gender identity.
I still acknowledge the privilege of passing as a cisgender man, but discovering my nonbinary identity has helped me escape a category that never felt appropriate for me.
In the end, being on the nonbinary spectrum has given me the freedom I thought coming out as gay a decade ago would give me. It has helped me discover and dive into a truly diverse — and inclusive — community of people.