Having a beard and wearing a skirt

Nonbinary imposter syndrome in Queer spaces  

Sometimes I have a beard. 

Nothing special, just a shitty goatee – makes me look kinda like a kiwi Chris Cornell. 

Sometimes, I have a gender crisis, shave it all off, and cut my bangs.  

In both states, I am non-binary, no more, no less. But the way I look does sometimes make me feel less-than. It makes me wonder, do I look too masculine now? Am I actually non-binary? 

Last year, I shaved it off as clean as I could and cut my bangs. I got myself feeling as happy with my appearance as I could. I arrived at the Palmy Drag fest feeling hopeful. 

But to say I felt out of place is an understatement. 

In the audience and on the stage were some of the purest pieces of queer expression I have ever seen. And there I was getting shit-faced to cope with the slight gender crisis I was experiencing.  

Do I belong here? Even with my little enby flag, do people know who I am? Am I even non-binary, or is this all some big appropriation ruse?  

The performances distracted somewhat, but in the back of my mind were the words ‘fake queer’.  

Sitting there, under the lights and amongst the noise, I tried to drown out my thoughts. But all the same –  

“Fake queer, fake queer, fake queer.” 

One particular person distracted me from my thoughts. It was almost like seeing a friend at a party where you know no one. 

They wore ripped tights, a black skirt, and were headbanging to music that didn’t match the vibe, but it didn’t matter because they didn’t care. 

I realised when I saw them, they’re who I wanted to be.  

I realised that what I was feeling, while valid, was bullshit. 

I started to really look at everyone around me. Dotted amongst all the glam was the grunge.  The variety in the outfits, materials, colours being used – it was staggering.  

Outdated stereotyping has made it seem like non-binary people need to look a certain way. You can’t be too masc or too femme. You have to be in perfect androgynous equilibrium, and if you’re not then you’re obviously one or the other binaries. But the differing people around me started to make that feel irrelevant.  

I don’t know who this person in a black skirt was, their sexuality, or their pronouns. All I know is they looked really bloody good. And I reckon I could pull off a skirt too. 

Art by Bella Maresca

The comfort washed over me, and I started to feel a bit more at ease. Spotting them across the aisles showed that I wasn’t out of place in my Docs and bootleg Pearl Jam tee. Unlike what the past has told us, there is no LGBTQ+ dress code. There’s only what you’re comfortable in.  

It made me just feel a little better about being queer in my own Aiden way. 

It doesn’t make the idea of chucking on a skirt for the next Palmy Drag Fest feel any less stressful for me. But it does have me considering if my beard would go with a skirt, as opposed to shaving it all off. 

I’m still trimming my bangs though, they’re cute as fuck. 

As Demi Lovato once said – “who says I can’t wear my converse with my dress? Well, baby, that’s just me.”  

Who says I can’t wear a black skirt with my beard? Well, baby, that’s my goatee.