Key to Self-acceptance: Vulnerability, Humility, Grit & Grace. Repeat.

WTW's Associate Director Kina Condit-Chadwick shares their coming out story as non-binary – both at home and work – and the importance of self-acceptance, which they recall with vulnerability, humility, grit and grace.

My story isn’t the beginning nor is my parents’, but for all intents and purposes, they’re a good place to start; both came from large families with modest means. My father grew up in western Massachusetts and had 10 siblings. My mother is Filipina, had 14 siblings and at the age of 5, moved in with the governor of her province. The governor’s granddaughter needed a playmate. My father was in the Air Force for decades and my parents met and wed in Madrid, Spain. In 1976, my father returned to Massachusetts and my mother received her U.S. citizenship. In short, my parents are strong people, who also  beat the odds. It’s in my DNA. 

Like many queer folks, at a young age I struggled with internal feelings that I didn’t talk about nor did anyone ask. I just knew I was different and that was the beginning of an inferiority complex that eventually was compounded by my brownness and shortness. Throughout middle school and high school, I continued to suppress my identity. I over-compensated what I thought I lacked by being captain of various athletic teams and holding officer positions within my graduating class and my high school’s student government. A self-destructive seed was planted, and I started hurting myself to gain sympathy and positive attention from friends and parents of friends. I told them I fell or had a little accident. Their comfort and nurturing filled the void that existed at home. 

The time came to think about college. My parents were adamant about me attending Mount Holyoke College, where my older sister went. I was adamant about not having a shared experience with her. Internally, I was deeply afraid of attending an all-women’s college for fear of acceptance. I didn’t want to deal with that! I attended a different college my first year. I also hooked up with a couple of women and rather enjoyed it, thank you very much! A weight was lifted, and self-acceptance tapped ever-so-lightly on my door, but I wasn’t quite ready to welcome it.

The college I attended my first year just went coed, and I kept hearing from all the upper-class women about how unique and special it was to attend an all-women’s college. Frankly, they said they felt bad for all the first-year women because we wouldn’t get that experience. I transferred to Mount Holyoke for my sophomore year and the heavens opened…for a quick minute. Like high school, I over-compensated for what I thought I lacked. I made the soccer and rugby teams and was class treasurer. I was out on campus, but not at home. In my junior year, I finally confronted the reason why I didn’t want to attend Mount Holyoke in the first place…and it was ugly.

Not living my true self led to greater depression and self-destruction, and I began cutting myself more frequently. One day the cutting went from my arms to my wrist, and my roommate walked in. I firmly believe that she prevented me from being a statistic that day. Mount Holyoke gave me an ultimatum: "get help or get out". I was fortunate enough to have a close relationship with my soccer coach and her partner, who would take me to therapy appointments. I dreaded the Thanksgiving break of 2001, when I knew I had to come out to my family. Of course, they already knew I was queer and were so grateful for me being alive. It was still hard after that, but it did get better.

Through all that I experienced, I felt a growing contempt for trans guys. It took years of soul-searching when I finally realized I was jealous of them for being their true selves. Even after coming out, I was still not my authentic self. Fast-forward through finding my partner and having our first child together, in May of 2016; I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I went through surgeries and chemotherapy, and I’m now approaching five years of remission. One of the most harrowing moments of my life was realizing that I’m not always in control of my body or my life. This was when self-acceptance knocked on my door again. This time I welcomed it in! I had a dear friend, who my partner and I supported as he went through top surgery. He couldn’t emphasize enough how liberating it was to finally feel like himself in his own body. 

In addition to internalized homophobia, my jealousy of trans men came from a source of me not feeling courageous enough to be my true self. After cancer, some aspects of my life haven’t changed and I’m working on that. Certain aspects of my life have changed. I now have a greater appreciation for self-acceptance, being present, and exercising empathy and compassion with myself and others. I also take even greater risks now, like having top surgery. I knew I wanted surgery for decades, but my mother-in-law pointed out just how much I did. The risk of complications exists with any surgical procedure and after the anesthesia wore off, the first words out of my mouth were, “I didn’t die!”

This expressed how scared I was of having surgery and how badly I wanted it to my mother-in-law. No one told me about the emotional rollercoaster that I’d experience afterward; the excitement, the self-doubt, and oscillating between those emotions and so many more. For the first several months, I was afraid to talk to the outside world. How could this be? I was supposed to be free! Before surgery, people I didn’t know simply saw me as a lesbian. After surgery, they didn’t know how to receive me. Now, people that I encounter look me up and down, trying to figure out if I’m a man or a woman. I’m neither! 

Self-acceptance brought a housewarming gift to me this time! I am non-binary. My pronouns are they/them. My children call me Bubby and every iteration of that you can imagine. My favorites are Bubs and Bubities! My special parent day is June 12; Loving Day, which commemorates the 1967 Supreme Court decision to allow interracial marriage. This is both timely and relevant as June 12 is sandwiched between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and in addition to my parents being an interracial couple, so are my partner and me. 

When I used to drop off or pick up my oldest child at preschool, the dreaded, “Are you her Daddy or her Mommy?” question came up from time to time and it still does. My answer is always the same, “I’m neither.” “I’m her Bubby, which, for me, is a parent in between a Daddy and a Mommy.” Their response is typical, “oh, cool.” Anxiety surrounds being non-binary and not just for people who claim this as part of their identity. I once had a client who asked for my bio before a couple of orientations that I was leading. When it came time to introduce me, she changed my pronouns from they/them to she/her. I gave it a lot of thought and asked her to use my proper pronouns. She kindly obliged. This PRIDE and every day after, I’ve committed to sharing my pronouns the first time I meet clients. Affirmations are living and breathing, walking, and talking. 

“Because of them, we can.”  This is what drives me to create change. Every day, I benefit from elders who came before me and it’s my obligation to pay it forward. So, yeah…self-acceptance is a good place to start.