A few months ago, in October 2025, I joined an adult recreational team at my climbing gym. At the time, apart from me, there were five women and six men on the team, all cis. Three of the women on the team are in romantic/sexual/nesting relationships with three of the men; however, two of those romantic couple split to climb, so the girls climb together and the boys climb with each other. With my being new and there often being an odd number of climbers at our training sessions, I have climbed randomly with a couple of the men and two of the women on the team.
When I joined, I was automatically put in the “boys bucket”. The certainty, almost blindness, with which I was put into the male category was affirming but also somewhat disappointing and scary: on the one hand, it proved to me that the external world, at least at a superficial glance, takes me for a man with no doubt, which tends to be validating; on the other, though, it also proved that people have no other categories than “man” & “woman”, which is disappointing; moreover, it also left me with the fear, so common to me since the medicalization of my gender journey, of what would happen when the other guys eventually found out that I’m queer, both in the sense of my being “mostly gay” (fear of homophobia) and in the sense of my not having a penis (fear of transphobia).
In November, our gym organized a recreational climbing competition in which we participated as a team. I partnered with one of the guys closer to my own age with whom I already had some camaraderie or budding friendship from carpooling and an outdoor climbing session together. I competed in the non-binary category and won. So I decided that would be a great opportunity for me to come out to my teammates by going up on the podium for my prize wearing my tank-top with the writing “This is what trans looks like”.
At that point, they finally realized. But nothing changed. Fortunately. They just kept using “he” pronouns for me as everyone had up until then and treating me as one of the guys. It felt good. It felt wonderful, really. In fact, most of my teammates came to my “double anniversary” party several weeks ago and it felt lovely.
Within the team, I have bonded mostly with two of the men who are closer to me in age and one of the women who is single. There’s another younger woman, though, who seems to feel a bit more of a (platonic) connection with me than with most of the other guys on the team. Given that I’ve been in this group of people for only a short period of time, I’m not sure of this — it may be that she’s just very extroverted, I don’t know. She & I have a lot in common, both of us being vegan and former competitive swimmers and now working in education, so it might simply be that it’s easier for us to relate to each other and/or find topics for small talk.
Last night, the ex-swimmer & I partnered to climb together since we’re both recovering from injuries. Later, the woman climber who’s single joined us to climb in a group of three since she’s still recovering from a recent flu. I was still feeling really low, the sadness from the emotional wall that I hit on Saturday still weighing on me last night. The two women climbers caught me up on some recent happenings within the team, including the fact that one of the other women had just split with her boyfriend (not a climber) and is distraught so they’re organizing an evening together (among the women on the team) to cheer her up. Without going into detail, I shared that I’m also going through an emotionally rough spot. After a while, as small talk, I asked, “So, you’re doing a girls’ night on Friday?” and the ex-swimmer replied, “Yes, do you want to join us?”
“To a girls’ night?!?” I half asked, half exclaimed in a tone that must have been a mix of surprise, sarcasm, and hurt.
“Jim is also organizing a Sushi night with the guys, he’s going to text you about it later, in case you want to join them on Friday”, she replied hastily (Jim is her boyfriend).
Our session continued undisturbed and pleasant, but something within me was mulling, upsetting me somewhat, and part of me felt I would need to address that comment with her at some point later on. To my great relief, though, she texted me as soon as she got home yesterday evening: “Thanks for being my recovery buddy tonight! Also, I realize I inadvertently invited you to hang with us on Friday night. It came from a place of inclusion because you had shared that you were going through a rough spot that sounded similar to what Jane is going through… I hope it was OK. Jim will text you soon about the guys’ Sushi night for Friday!”
I was relieved and touched by her text. And, indeed, Jim texted me about the guys’ Sushi night only a couple minutes later. Her invitation also gave me food for thought, though. This team, the whole team, men and women on it, is truly a group of friends who’ve got each other’s back: the girls’ night they’re organizing for Jane; the way the two older guys went out with me for beers to support me shortly after the rejection I received from the gay climber — they’re here for one another, and they’re here for me, too. As in most groups of straight people of mixed sexes, the dynamics tend to be gendered, the men grouping up and the women bonding among each other. And I’ve been put mostly in the “men’s bucket”, I tend to both instinctively (because of my own ease/habits) and socially (because of my looks) gravitate to the men’s group. But, as sweet and sensitive as most of the men on this team are, it seems that at least some of the women feel closer to, or more spontaneously at ease with, me than to/with the other guys. It might be just my impression but there may also be an underlying truth to in because I do, in fact, share more with these women (& with cis-women in general) than any of the guys on the team (& any cis-men in general), because of being AFAB myself, because of having been socialized as a woman/female, because of having lived in the world perceived as a girl for so long.
In many ways, I guess, I’m still in between genders… and I’m not sure how I feel about that…
The Little Prince and the Fox 