Embodied creature(s)

We are embodied creatures. At least, I feel this embodiment, the fact of being an embodied creature, very strongly. 

Sometimes I love, I revel in, this body of mine and the connection I have with it. And sometimes it is a profound source of anguish or suffering for me (like when I’m injured or ill and/or forced into inactivity). But while I tend to be very aware of my own self physically, I think I’m not wholly aware of much of my outwards body language and/or of how my physical self is really perceived by the outer world or what it’s communicating to others. 

On Sunday, I finally went climbing again with my closest climbing buddy after nearly five months of not having been able to climb together. I had only climbed a couple times the previous week, doing some very easy top-rope sessions, and I was feeling not only ready but actually really eager to lead climb. Usually when we climb, I’m happy to let my partner(s) climb first and start by being the belayer myself. But on Sunday, after my buddy and I had chosen our first route, as I instinctively reached for my climbing shoes and the climber’s end of the rope, I suddenly stopped, turned to my buddy and said, “Sorry, I didn’t even ask… is it OK if I start by climbing?” And he replied, “Of course, no need to ask — your body language was pretty clear about that!” I wasn’t expecting that — maybe naïvely — I hadn’t realized how strongly my body language was saying, “I’m in charge here now, I’m picking the route for us and I’m going to climb first”… 

Then, my buddy & I went into downtown to get sandwiches sitting outside in the sunshine. We had had a very satisfying climbing session so I was feeling happy and confident. It was warm, so I was wearing shorts and a tank-top. As my buddy & I sat eating and chatting, a group of four very openly queer people went into the shop right in front of us and then, when they came back out, stood there for a few minutes casting very evident glances in my direction and mumbling among each other. They eventually left without a word to me/us, fortunately, but it did leave me wondering (& feeling quite uncomfortable): what was going on? Were they trying to decipher me, to “figure me out”? Had they noticed my three wristbands (queer pride rainbow, nonbinary colors, trans-flag colors)? 

Or the instances at the climbing gym. I present very masculine now so the “default” is that I don’t look at people very much and people don’t look at me very much — the “safe” or “appropriate” or “non-creepy” “male behavior”. But there have been a few times more recently that I’ve noticed guys looking at me. It’s been easier for me to notice because I’ve been forced to cross-train on the stationary bike and/or treadmill due to my injuries: these activities are boring (for me) so I have more occasions to look around myself but I’m also much more “evident” to others because I’m in one spot for a long time. And I cannot avoid training bare-chested on the stationary bike and treadmill because I simply sweat too much to keep a top on. So here I am, “in full display” as it feels to me, in one spot for at least half an hour, almost completely naked. Given the implicit but well known codes of gyms, I would expect guys to not look at me. And yet, I have been looked at by men more often than expected. Why? Once again, are they trying to “figure me out”? To piece together this “weird body” of mine? Is it the scars on my chest that draw the attention? [On the other hand, climbing gym culture is not like gym culture: among climbers, there’s much more ease around naked and/or bare-chested bodies.] Fortunately, though, while these instances or behaviors still confuse me, they don’t upset me like they did last year. There are actually moments, like often at the swimming pool or while I was running on the treadmill yesterday, when I feel so happy and confident and comfortable in my own body that I don’t mind them looking and I can hear a challenging voice inside me that would like to say to them, “Yes, this is a nonbinary trans body and it is beautiful!” 

And then there are the instances in the gay men’s choir (in some ways similar to my experiences at gay bars): gay men ignoring me or almost looking away. Why? Is it my body language saying something like “Stay away from me!” without my even being aware of it? Is it because they can see I’m trans and that puts them off? Or is it their own fear, their own baggage, having to fight the negative clichés of which they’ve so often been accused just because of being gay men, e.g. of being too forward and/or of coming onto people/men too aggressively?  

And maybe tinting all of these instances — underlying my doubts around the perception and performance of gender, around sex-roles, around body language — there are for me the lenses of an autistic brain and aromantic & asexual orientation. I am a very embodied creature — I experience my life and the world around me in a very embodied way — but I am also nonbinary & trans, aro-ace, and have an autistic brain. How do I put all this together?