the gender-affirming closet, a flash primer
alison lubar
We have three piles: keep & fold, sewing projects, and queer clothing swap. E & I are three weeks post-elopement-party, and I feel a rush of relief at never having to wear a white dress ever again. Or maybe never even wear a dress again.
As a self-proclaimed “themme,” I feel both the tension and liberation of nonbinary identity in a femme-presenting form (for the moment). I love florals. Anything with a goth nod. Something waist-cinching, with boning, lace, & velvet. But a part of me feels confined by my former gloomcookie self–I had a decade of preppy aspirations while I began my career and felt trapped in not only gender norms, but a kind of compulsory femininity and “woman-ness.” E, on the other hand, is the surfer-boi 90s Leo-lookalike of my dreams. All golden retriever.
We eloped in July, taking four friends of ours to California’s redwoods and subsequently the shoreline, in my birth state. Traversing coasts has been one of the many binaries I felt bisected by–not to mention gender identity and race. I wore another white dress, and a tulle cape with pearls; E wore a white suit from Bindle & Keep, and a wave-printed shirt. In my femme-drag, on that day, I still felt like myself, lashes and all. But I still wondered if I chose what I wore because it was expected of me–were we still playing into some comphet binary?
E holds up a black buttondown with tiny white and blue flowers, tucks up the bottom to crop it, and shrugs. We aren’t a lesbian couple whose UHauling doubled our closets–we have little crossover in aesthetics, but revel in sharing when it feels affirming. Recently, they used a gold & pearl hair pin of mine as a tie clip. I’ll borrow a flannel and tie it in the front, atop a lacey pastel bralette.
Creating a gender-affirming closet is principled on the moment, a Polaroid of self & aura, with an attention to what the day (or evening) might bring. Platform Converse and motorcycle boots for a night of dancing in the gayborhood. A tie-dyed twill jumpsuit with black mesh turtleneck underneath for a chilly poetry reading. Our best REI-dad vibes in olive & taupe & clay for a nature march with the dogs. Cutting off the sleeves of all of my t-shirts, or E learning to tailor the perfect jorts.
We describe our love as sunshine-from-the-inside-out, and that blooming and glowing is the basis of all sartorial choices. When I feel like I have nothing to wear, or that nothing looks good, or I’m catatonic on the bathroom floor in another half-buttoned ill-fitting flouncy something from a past life, they’ll just ask me, “What feels good to wear today?” It means dressing to match the inside, the weather, the stars, or even just how I feel after breakfast.
How can what we wear meet the needs of the moment? The more I ask this question, the more in tune I become with myself, affirmed and grounded. And even if I choose to one day wear a white dress again, for a vow renewal or anniversary, or just because, I know that I never have to masquerade as, or be anything, that I’m not. ￭
about the author
Alison is facing the camera. They have long, dark hair, and dark brown eyes, lined with black cat-eyed liner. They are in front of a brick wall, and are smiling, close-lipped. They have a gold septum ring and gold earrings, with a layer of mixed-metal chain necklaces. They're wearing a blue chambray sleeveless shirt.
Alison Lubar teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. They are a queer, nonbinary, mixed-race femme whose life work (aside from wordsmithing) has evolved into bringing mindfulness practices, and sometimes even poetry, to young people. Their work has been nominated for both the Pushcart & Best of the Net, and they’re the author four chapbooks: Philosophers Know Nothing About Love (Thirty West Publishing House, 2022), queer feast (Bottlecap Press, 2022), sweet euphemism (CLASH!, 2023), and It Skips a Generation (Stanchion, 2023). You can find out more at alisonlubar.com or on Twitter @theoriginalison.