My name is Mac Craighead; I’m a nonbinary writer, event producer, editor, drag artist, and generally an all-around good person.
For a long time, I was deeply ashamed of my femininity. I grew up in what I can only describe as the Catholic, Midwestern equivalent to the fictional town of Arlen, Texas, from “King of the Hill” — conservative, for those of you who didn’t watch.
I remember visiting my cousins’ farmhouse and enduring games such as “Smear the Queer,” a sport played by straight-up beating up whoever couldn’t catch whatever ball was being thrown at them. I was the common “queer.” Every time I dropped that ball, my femininity was beaten out of me. “Can’t catch, what a girl, right?” I still think about my uncle’s snide remark to his wife, them giggling from the sideline.
Let’s flash forward. It would be a good fifteen years later that I finally discovered Brooklyn nightlife. When I eventually mustered up the balls (pun intended) to drag (pun also intended) myself to a queer bar for the first time, I discovered a world full of joy and diversity and above all else — people like me: dykes and fags and kings and queens and everything-in-betweens. Hell, before moving to Brooklyn back in 2011, I had never even seen anyone who could be described as gender non-conforming. My entire world bloomed.
Let’s flash forward. It would be a good fifteen years later that I finally discovered Brooklyn nightlife. When I eventually mustered up the balls (pun intended) to drag (pun also intended) myself to a queer bar for the first time, I discovered a world full of joy and diversity and above all else — people like me: dykes and fags and kings and queens and everything-in-betweens. Hell, before moving to Brooklyn back in 2011, I had never even seen anyone who could be described as gender non-conforming. My entire world bloomed.
Honestly, honestly, honestly, Drag performers make great role models, and the first time I ever saw a live Drag show — let me tell you; giiiirrrrll — these performers are confidence personified. You have never experienced confidence until you’ve seen someone jump off a 4-foot stage and land in the splits. And that split? I think that was the first time I had ever really forgotten to be ashamed. “YAAAAAAAS,” ruptured from between my lips, my fist throwing sweaty, crumpled-up dollars bills; I’m not worried about the pitch of my voice or the limp in my wrist. Gender euphoria.
By learning to express my queerness, I began to take a closer look at what gender meant to me. If the feminine is about more than pink and ponies and pregnancy, what is it about? For me, I guess, it was learning to unlearn — whatever it may be. I realized there were parts of myself with which I was too ashamed to have conversations. For the first time, I was considering not just wearing dresses, but more intangible things like crying or unabashedly falling in love with someone, not being afraid to shout it from the mountaintop, living life authentically.
By learning to express my queerness, I began to take a closer look at what gender meant to me. If the feminine is about more than pink and ponies and pregnancy, what is it about? For me, I guess, it was learning to unlearn — whatever it may be. I realized there were parts of myself with which I was too ashamed to have conversations. For the first time, I was considering not just wearing dresses, but more intangible things like crying or unabashedly falling in love with someone, not being afraid to shout it from the mountaintop, living life authentically.
I consider myself to be gender non-conforming. I resonate with my masculinity in my own way, and while I do not necessarily “feel like a woman inside,” — some of me actually does. And I love that part of me. I think everyone has and should love that part of themselves, whether masculine or feminine or otherwise. The power of authenticity can fuel so much in your life: creativity, ambition, sex, love, joy. Everyone, in every sense of the word, deserves to experience gender euphoria. So, if you’re reading this, I urge you to take a look in the mirror and ask yourself what it looks like for you. It looks different for everyone. Who is your most authentic self?
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