Dear loved ones,

I had planned a tour of telling all of you in person this winter, but life planned differently. And so, an email. A friend pointed out that this actually gives everybody more space to acclimate to the whole idea, which I hope is helpful. A few of you receiving this are already in the know, as it were, but I couldn’t leave you out. It has taken me weeks to write; finally sending this on the weekend that celebrates the man who dreamt we’d be judged solely by the content of our character seems about right.

You all knew little “tomboy” Kiah. I can recall many moments growing up when femininity encroached on my ideas of myself in ways I couldn’t then comprehend. You were witness to this confusion, whether explicit or not. I am so glad you’ve known me all along.

I discovered quickly that I was very strange compared to my peers, not to mention wholly confused by the expectations placed on me. I only first realized I wasn’t doomed to be a pariah when I got lucky enough to spend time producing The Vagina Monologues. In that theater was my first opportunity to see that a different world existed—a queer world in which I could maybe actually be what was in my heart. That experience literally saved my life in high school, although it would still be a long road to admitting, standing in, and finally being proud of, my truths.

I have been out as a queer person for a little while now (and that took long enough!) but it has been trickier to claim my lack of gender. I have been afraid to upset anyone, afraid of insistence on my womanhood, afraid of anyone prioritizing comprehension over love. Lately here in Maine, I am grateful to be feeling free and held enough to be proud of my truth. I hope you’ll be proud of me, too.

There’s a lot of research you can do on this, if you are so inclined, but it’s not necessary. This is a unique journey for each person who claims it, and I welcome any and all of your questions. Ultimately though, your love for me might preclude your desire to understand. I hope it will not hurt you to do this thing I ask, as it can only help me.

I no longer use feminine pronouns. They/them/theirs is the language I use to describe myself. I apologize for the inconvenience this causes all of us. The thing about changing our language is that we will all slip up, and that can feel uncomfortable. I still make mistakes in feminizing myself, which feels not great. Of course, most of you have been using “she/her” pronouns about me for longer than I have! Habits are hard to break, but it is in the trying that I will see your heart. And I will love you, trust you, and feel so much safer with you, for that effort.

I am your sibling, child, nibling (alternative for niece/nephew), in-law, step-family, cousin. We are calling me “Uncle” for the little ones, cuz it sounds nice with Kiah, and feels good to me as a genderless person.

The bcc is for your privacy only, as I do hope you’ll reply, discuss, and share your experience, as you please and on your own time. Again, I will gladly answer any questions. I won’t be offended—you’re my family. Lastly, I have included helpful—and fun!—media below.

I love you, Kiah

If nothing else, please listen to this: via Spotify, on Apple podcasts, or you can watch the conversation on youtube. The brilliant and poised interviewee of this podcast, Alok Vaid-Menon, has also written a really short book entitled Beyond the Gender Binary. Every single thing they say and do makes me feel like a world that welcomes me is possible.

NPR also wrote a guide

More indirectly to my personal experience, the HBO show “Sort Of” and the third season of “Sex Education” on Netflix bring lightheartedness to heavy subjects, including being nonbinary. These aren’t pushing a queer agenda, but illustrating humans as we are: unique, flawed, scared, and better when we love each other with our ears wide open.