December 15th 2024.
I remember the night I first came out as non-binary. I was 29 years old at the time and it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I finally felt like I could embrace my true self without fear or hesitation. Four years later, at the age of 33, I also came out as trans masc. It was a journey of self-discovery and acceptance, but it was worth it.
That night, I was at a karaoke bar, surrounded by loud music and a lively crowd. As I stepped onto the stage, I heard the familiar tune of Roxanne by The Police. It was a song about wooing a woman, but for me, it felt empowering to sing as a masculine person. As I sang my heart out, my hips swaying seductively, I was met with familiar banter from the crowd. Some said they didn't know what I was, but they liked it. Others said they were not usually queer, but that night they might be. Even a couple of gay men approached me, expressing their interest in me, although they were not usually attracted to someone like me.
It was an electric feeling, knowing that I was both confusing and confirming their desires. It was a feeling that I felt in my chest, a sense of empowerment and freedom. I came out as non-binary and trans masc that night, and it was a moment I will never forget.
As a child, I never felt like I fit into the traditional gender roles. I wore hand-me-downs from my older brother and played sports with the boys, while also learning to dance and sing. I knew from a young age that I did not want to conform to the societal expectations of becoming a woman. But it wasn't until my 20s that I felt comfortable enough to explore my masculine side without caring about what others thought.
I started small, with an undercut and dressing in more masculine clothing. Then, I began to wear punk and masculine jewelry and got the tattoos I always wanted. I also started taking estrogen blockers and focused on building more muscle through my workouts. My friends were supportive and told me that they finally saw the true me. I felt more confident and comfortable in my own skin, and I had fewer panic attacks.
But the one thing I still long for is top surgery. I want to be able to run around with my shirt off and not feel burdened by my chest. It's something that I am working towards, and I know it will be a liberating experience.
However, it wasn't just my journey of self-discovery that led me to embrace my masculinity. It was also my experience as a drag king. I have been performing as King Captain for about a year and a half now. He is my naughty alter-ego, and through him, I can express my sexy, forward, and unhinged side in a safe and consensual space.
It all started with my ex, who was a drag king at the time. They encouraged me to try drag, saying I would be a natural. And they were right. I was hooked after my first performance, lip-syncing to male singers while slowly stripping down to my jockstrap. It was a liberating and empowering experience, and I knew I wanted to continue doing it.
Onstage, I take a 'Magic Mike' approach to my performances, getting up close and personal with the audience. Sometimes, I have women pour water over me or drink out of my mouth. I've even licked vegan whipped cream out of a bowl in someone's lap. Through my performances, I consensually take women on a ride, and I get an adrenaline rush from making them feel beautiful and seen.
With the rise of social media, I have also found a community of queer individuals who appreciate my performances and feel things they never have before. It's a common phrase in the comments, "I'm confused about what you are, but I like it. I might not be straight after all." And my response is always, "If you like what you see, you're probably gay." It's a reminder that gender and sexuality are fluid and that we should embrace and celebrate our true selves.
Now more than ever, it's crucial for us to have representation on stage. Not only does it strengthen the queer community, but it also offers a safe space for individuals to explore and play with different parts of themselves. I feel like I am helping to disrupt the binary and educate the public through my own perspective on how fluid we truly are as humans.
My work feels more important than ever, especially in a country like the US, where there are bills being passed against trans and non-binary individuals. We need to stand up and protect our community, our voices, and our existence. We have been part of the human race for centuries, and we deserve to be seen and heard.
That's why I will continue to dance as my true self, pushing the boundaries of queer representation on stage. And I am always open to having conversations with anyone who may feel confused about their attraction towards me. Because even if I can make just one person feel more comfortable with their own identity, it's worth it.
Do you have a story you'd like to share? Email James.email and share your views in the comments below. Let's celebrate our pride and joy and stand together as a community.
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