I don't miss you, but I'm not crazy about your replacement. What you supplied in magnitude (b'bye cramps!), post-menopause supplies in multitudes (b'bye waist!)
I got "the girls" lopped off post-menopause. Told to lose weight before surgery, I lost a good portion of the weight in my boobs — where I'd never lost weight before. Apparently, if you want to lose weight in your breasts, schedule top surgery. Of course the G's (or as many call it Quadruple D's) still weighed 9 pounds when removed. Good riddance!
Now that I've got 25 pounds to lose to attain the weight my insurance company says is healthy, it's leaving my hips and butt and migrating to my belly (my sub-solar-plexus (don't google: make up names for your anatomy!)). Thanks menopause.
I didn't dislike my given name. The name just felt very female. And since I realized I was nonbinary, by the very definition of nonbinary, I wasn't female. A name change felt in order.
I started looking at gender neutral names. One caught my eye. For some reason, I passed it up. So. Many. Names. I felt overwhelmed by them all. I thought having a system would help.
I'm Irish and Welsh, so I perused Irish and Welsh gender neutral names that start with a C. I figured I could change the C to a K and it would align with my previous name. My plan was genius! How could it fail?! It can fail if you don't like any of your options. I decided to return to the overwhelming list of names… Soon…
First, I went to see Brandi Carlile "and friends" at the Hollywood Bowl. My friend and I attended hoping that Joni Mitchell might show up. She did. And so did other "friends" including Annie Lennox. Annie was alive. Bouncing, exuberant, having fun dancing up a storm. She was 69 and relentless. If she wasn't singing lead, she was singing backup. She was supporting others on stage. She seemed egoless and joyful. I'm a child of the eighties and the Eurhythmics never failed to capture my imagination. And Annie? She was one of the first androgynous women that came into my consciousness. I connected with her. The suits, the spiky hair, the everything. Most recently, she kept appearing in my Instagram feed with political messages. Could she be anymore awesome? Then I remembered the name that had caught my eye at the beginning of my search: Lennox. I didn't know anyone named Lennox. There was no baggage associated with the name. Annie was the only Lennox I knew. Once I really considered the name, I knew it was right. It just fit.
Now, when people question my name. "Lennox?" "Yes, like Annie. Annie Lennox."
A couple? few? years ago, I started acknowledging something within myself. I told myself — and friends — that if I were growing up today, "I would totally be nonbinary." I'd expound on my gratitude to the youth who treated the gender binary with the silliness it deserved. I shared my "if I were growing up today" theory with several friends. I don't know if they were being polite, frightened, or were as clueless as I was. Then some time in late 2022 or early 2023, it occurred to me, "Hey, if I would've been nonbinary if I were growing up now, that probably means that… that… wait a minute… that means I'm probably… I am nonbinary now."
I didn't tell people my realization for a while because "I wanted to be sure" (NOTE: I was sure.) First I told the spouse. He reacted well. I wonder if it's because he's a middle school teacher and his students had already gotten him used to the concept? (see above: gratitude to the youth). Then he shared it to a group of online friends, which freaked me the fuck out. He apologized for the complete inappropriateness of outing me, then a part of me was grateful because it wasn't a secret that I could let die with him. Others knew.
My next toe in the nonbinary water came with changing my pronouns on Zoom from she/her to she/they. There's this guy that makes a big stink about pronouns and I dreaded hearing flack from him. I could and would defend others, but defending myself? That was new territory. Luckily, I rarely ran into this guy online anymore. I'd see him in person, but IRL he couldn't see my pronouns. Out in the 3D, I could hide from him, from his derision. I could "pass." I was hiding behind my privilege.
Soon, I admitted to a friend that I held on to "she" because of fear, because I didn't want to correct people. She/they meant that if they used "she" I didn't have to say anything. The next day, I change my Zoom pronouns to they/them. The people I'd see on Zoom knew a little more (if they even noticed.)
I considered changing my first name because my given name feels very female. But doing this would require regular outing of myself. Heaven forfend that I make people uncomfortable by learning my proper name. Jeez. When I write it out, I hear only my fear. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of being judged, afraid that the kids on the playground will make fun of me.
For more of my gender ramblings, see what I wrote in 2020. I just didn't quite comprehend what it really meant to me.
