I’m a non-binary mother – and I’m constantly misgendered

Throw the fact that I’m a mother into the mix and people basically consider it permission to see me as a woman (Picture: Rachel Meghan)

‘I’m non-binary’, I told a neighbour. We were at a barbecue and talking about queerness. I went on to explain that although my pronouns are they/she and ‘she’ is acceptable, I much prefer ‘they’.

‘That’s cool,’ my neighbour replied, adding, ‘My daughter is also non-binary.’ 

I felt accepted – but then, just seconds later, that same person yelled to their partner at the grill: ‘She said she wanted a hamburger!’

I didn’t say anything. After all, I knew I’d said ‘she’ was okay.

But I had also said I preferred ‘they’. So why did they just go to the default? 

It wasn’t the first time this had happened; far from it – which is why I reluctantly continue to offer up ‘she’ as a pronoun. It’s exhausting having to constantly correct people I’ll never see again. 

Throw the fact that I’m a mother into the mix and people basically consider it permission to see me as a woman – even though I’m always clear I don’t consider myself one. 

The thought that I might be outside of the gender binary was something I flirted with for years.

I first realised I was queer as a teenager, in the late noughties. I initially came out as bisexual, but I had no real understanding of gender expression yet. It just wasn’t talked about.

All the same, I knew I was different. I never had any desire to straighten my hair or get my nails done; I didn’t want to keep up with feminine beauty standards. I never really wanted to be a boy, either; I just liked being androgynous.

Everything came to a head after I became a mother (Picture: Rachel Meghan)

It wasn’t until I first encountered non-binary people in college that I learned maybe it was possible for me to do the same.

Surrounded by other queer folk, I realised I felt more at peace when people used they/them pronouns for me. I finally understood that ‘she’ felt so accusatory in my head – so direct, so wrong – because it wasn’t who I was.

I talked to a few of my close friends about it, and they were supportive; but I didn’t feel secure enough in myself to come out to the world as non-binary just yet. I didn’t want to have to defend my identity to everyone I encountered.

Then, everything came to a head after I became a mother.

I never saw myself as a mum when I was younger, just because I didn’t think I’d ever be in a long-term relationship. I always thought I was too weird to date. It was only when I met my husband in 2017, and he loved me for who I am, that I thought: ‘Ok, I’d be comfortable having a kid’.

My husband and I got married in 2020, and I became pregnant in 2023.

I’m sure other people feel very connected to womanhood when they’re pregnant. But personally, going through pregnancy and childbirth gave me a new relationship with my body. I realised that, for me, motherhood and womanhood were not necessarily connected.

I saw it as: my anatomy allows me to be pregnant, no matter how I identify, it’s just how my body works. But I’m also a spiritual person, so I see it as a very divine thing to be a mother. I felt like I was connecting with the essence of life itself; getting a human being ready to exist in the world.

So, becoming a mum gave me a new confidence and a fresh level of knowing myself.

After my maternity leave, I worked at a very queer space, a bookstore and bar, where I was surrounded by the LGBTQ+ community. It was here I really felt I’d found my people, and the words to describe myself.

I was still worried about having to correct others frequently; but eventually I decided it was more worth it to live as my truth. In 2025, I came out as genderqueer, then non-binary.

The act of creating life is so divine that I think it goes beyond the limited binary of gender (Picture: Rachel Meghan)

My son is two now, and still too little to truly understand, but as he gets older I explain a little bit more here and there. I say, ‘Mummy isn’t a woman; they’re just Mummy.’

The newer people in my life, like my coworkers and regulars at the bookstore, have no issues using they/them pronouns – but I’ve noticed that it’s a lot harder for people that have known me for a long time.

My husband – who had no problem with me coming out – sometimes struggles, but he makes a pointed effort to refer to me gender-neutrally.

However, one family member, while very leftist and accepting, finds it hard seeing me as anything but a woman. When I told them about my pronouns, they even went as far to say ‘what does it matter if you’re not in the room?’.

But of course it matters. It’s about how I want to be perceived by the world, and the people who love me should be supportive of that; wherever I am.

When I’m out and about with my toddler, the average person we run into assumes I am a woman, as I am femme presenting and with my son. But when you see yourself one way, while the world perceives you a different way, it can take a massive toll on your energy and mental health. It makes me feel dissociated from my body and my identity.

I know some people will say I can’t really be too upset as I do use they/she – but I wish people would at least make an effort to use gender-neutral pronouns. Just try.

Maybe I’ll drop the secondary ‘she’ pronoun one of these days, when I feel braver in my identity and care less about how others see me – but for now, I’m lucky to be supported by the closest people in my life. 

Most of my friends are queer in some way, so they get it; and my husband and son love me for who I am, regardless of my gender. My son even calls me ‘bubba’ instead of ‘mama’ most of the time – I didn’t instruct him to do that, I think he just clocked my queerness on his own.

Being a non-binary mother is a unique experience, but ultimately the act of creating life is so magical, so divine, that I think it goes beyond the limited binary of gender.

Trans men can be mothers, non-binary folks can be mothers. Your gender expression doesn’t influence how you parent, so you may as well just be you.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing izzie.price@metro.co.uk. 

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