“”I remember being intrigued when my breasts started to grow, when I was about 13 years old. And then being very annoyed when my mother asked me to put on a bra. Something about it made me feel like I couldn’t breathe, and no, it wasn’t just the bra itself. I also remember feeling very relieved that they didn’t grow to be very big. I think I just didn’t want to think about my breasts at all or be aware of them in anyway. Being compelled to wear bras and dupattas did just the exact opposite.
Fast forward a few years. I wore the loosest bras possible with loose shirts and T-shirts. I started keeping my hair short. The bra still bothered me very much, but I knew that opening that door meant introspection and questions which I wasn’t ready for.
A few months ago, I met NC. NC is the first person ever to actually understand how I felt about my breasts. Because they felt the same way about theirs, possibly a few times multiplied. See, as much as I loved NC (and others) playing with and pleasuring my breasts for the most part, I would be happier to not have the breasts on my body. I’d considered mastectomy seriously at some point but then decided that it’s too expensive and too much of a hassle. Ignoring my breasts was easier. Mastectomy would also mean that I might not have nipple sensation and that is a part of my sexuality. NC felt very similarly about their breasts. But more importantly, they chose to speak to me about this openly. And I’m eversoglad that they did!
If they hadn’t, I think it would have been a few more years before I stopped wearing bras altogether. (It’s the best!) And I wouldn’t have truly understood the days and nights when NC didn’t quite enjoy me kissing and exploring their breasts. Or recognised the days when they really liked it and hence carefully paid more attention their breasts then. And I might not have been able to separate the fact that I loved NC kissing and fondling my breasts from the fact that I felt like my breasts don’t quite belong on me, and acknowledge both.
As a non-binary queer person, conveying all this is very difficult, even to many queer people. And unless we talk about it, we would never be able to identify and distinguish these feelings. More importantly, one should be able to talk about this with those who we are physically intimate with, because this too is a part of meaningful and enthusiastic consent.
Today, the presence of my breasts bother me more than they have in a long time. Please know, I don’t hate my chest or my breasts. I hate the labels that people have put on them. I hate that when I face violence as a non-binary person, everyone’s eyes go down to my chest like that’s the only proof of my femininity. Maybe I wouldn’t be feeling any of this if breasts didn’t equal to ‘female’? Maybe then I’d have a better relationship with them and my body? Or maybe this is one of my first steps to start speaking out about this.”
