Yes, I Only Wear Dresses & Yes, I'm Still Nonbinary

I started reflecting on my experiences with gender around 2019. And once I started thinking about the possibility that I might be nonbinary, I couldn’t stop. It consumed my every day — suddenly, random memories from my childhood made complete sense.

As a kid, I didn’t understand the involuntary self-hatred I felt when I started growing breasts, or why I never *quite* felt like I fit in with same-gender peers. For years, I struggled to feel like I had control over my body and how I was perceived. That discomfort developed into a decade-long eating disorder. I was told these feelings were all a normal part of growing up, but even in adulthood, that feeling of unease persisted.

Once I was able to identify that ambiguous “discomfort” as gender dysphoria, everything clicked into place. In 2021, I finally started publicizing my gender identity and using they/them pronouns. But I still had a difficult time reconciling being nonbinary with my vehicle for self-expression: fashion.

Despite my persistent body dysmorphia, fashion was always something I turned to for comfort and to find joy in my appearance, even if I didn’t feel good in my own skin. I’m always chasing the euphoria of putting together a really good outfit. I choose pieces that make me feel connected to my own reflection — and 99 percent of the time, that piece is a traditionally “girly” dress.

I’m neurodivergent and wearing garments that appeal to my sensory needs helps reduce my anxiety. I love walking down the street with swaths of fabric billowing around me. It feels like I’m floating. Perhaps it’s just the physical degree of separation their volume allows, but to me, poofy, voluminous dresses feel like armor.

When I first began examining my gender, I didn’t know many nonbinary people who dressed like me. It led me to question the validity of my suspicion that I wasn’t a woman, and questions spiraled in my head: What does it feel like to be nonbinary? Could I still be nonbinary even if I usually wear dresses? What if I’m overthinking the discomfort I feel in my body? Maybe the hours spent reflecting on my gender are just a normal part of being a woman?

These questions — born from misconceptions of what it means to be nonbinary — are often reflected back to me through intrusive questions and frequent misgendering. It is frustrating to have to repeatedly break down the nuances of gender for impolitely inquisitive family members and acquaintances, but I refuse to limit my style to cater to their lack of understanding. There’s no one way to “look” nonbinary. We are not a monolith cloaked in androgyny.

I won’t say that getting misgendered doesn’t suck (because it does), but I make the active choice to not let that minimize how I feel about myself. Yes, I feel more comfortable in skirts and dresses (despite the traditionally feminine appropriation), but that does not make me any less of a nonbinary person. At the end of the day, I know who I am, and my personal style just scratches the surface.