Coming to terms with our gender can be Hard, and it can take years. This is Ashley's experience and take on their genderfluidity. Don't forget to hit subscribe to hear more from them.
Transcript:
GenderFluid

I never used to think about it.
I tried, as a teenager.
But only because someone asked me:
Do you want to be a boy?

No. I don’t.
I don’t want a dick.
The idea sounds rather
claustrophobic.

I felt offended.
Just because I wasn’t girly or femme;
just because I hated the draft a dress gave,
the access it suggested.
Just because I hated makeup,
the sensation of closed pores,
gunk in my eyes.

I felt ridiculed.
Just because I preferred boxers to thongs,
trainers to platforms, hoodies to cardies.
Just because I paid attention to footy scores,
ignored boy bands and pop charts,
obsessed over Ronaldo not Robbie.

I felt wounded.
Made to feel an outcast
because I hung out with lads
for their personalities;
hung out with girls
for their scent.

Why did that mean
I must want to be a boy?
Why?

I never used to think about it.
I tried, as a 20-something.
But there was no word.
Or no word that worked.

I tried on a couple.
Tomboy. Androgynous.
But the words fit
like baggy jeans.
I felt the sneaky breeze
creep up my ankles,
down my ass crack.
I heard the grip of wind whispering:
these are not your clothes,
these are not your words.

They call me an attention seeker,
say I do it to stand out.
They tell me to "just conform",
that "life'll be easier",
have more acceptance,
less abuse.
I refuse.

I cannot wear another skin.
The itch is unbearable,
it sends me insane.
I cannot be another sheep,
I do not bleat,
I prefer to roar.

So here I stand,
neither boy nor girl,
as I tell you
that gender was constructed
from the human urge
to label and file,
to hang a tag from your ear
like a cow.

Here I stand,
a circle
not a square.
Here I stand,
neither man nor woman,

Here I stand,
neither one
nor the other.