For this post, I had started to write about some of the moments and connections I had and made from the two-and-a-half-week solo road trip I just took, but something happened recently that I just have to share. Don’t worry, you’ll get a newsletter (or two) from the solo trip soon.
A few weeks ago, I went on my first work trip since the COVID-19 pandemic began, where I attended a conference in Florida celebrating Children’s Hospitals Week. Bringing together our staff, hospitals, partners, and various other participants — it was an incredible week being back with everyone. I’ve attended plenty of conferences over the course of my almost six years at work, and because I have worked from home that entire time, these conferences have become an arena for me to share my fashion. It sounds so simple and silly, but it’s so true. I love showing off my new pieces, patterns, and styles.
With all of that said, who we are today is a different model from who we were over two years ago, and even from who we were yesterday. So this was an exciting time for us all to be back together, and for a new version of Gaelen, that not many of them had seen before, to be shown.
Fashion, appearance, presentation – they’re all just individual elements of someone’s gender expression, and for some people an important one. Clothing is one of my favorite ways to showcase my identity. And these conferences have been an opportunity for me wear fun outfits, challenge the idea of what “corporate” attire looks like, and share myself with others.
I mean, what even is “corporate attire” anyway? If I identify as a “man,” I can only wear dress shirts and slacks? Or if I’m a “woman,” a dress or long skirt and a blouse? Why is wearing a bold color or fun pattern considered “unprofessional?” It has always just seemed so arbitrary to me.
This year was a big one for me. It was my first time presenting as non-binary at a work event. My first time re-introducing myself in person. As I was prepping for the trip, I was excited about sharing some new outfits. One of those options was a dress. A fellow colleague shared that they were going to wear one, and that we should wear them together. I promised that I would pack at least one, but I wasn’t sure how comfortable I would be wearing a dress at the conference.
On the first night of the conference, I attended a dinner with my team and our partners, and it was ‘60s themed. The dress I packed was a floral puffed sleeve high-low dress — one of the two I got at Target last summer as a birthday treat. And they’re designed by Christopher John Rogers, one of the up-and-coming designers right now. What is more late ‘60s than a good floral puffed sleeve dress?!
About 24 hours before dinner, I kept seeing videos on my phone from the same TikTok account of a mom sharing her child’s self-discussion with wearing a dress. About 3 hours before dinner, this video resurfaced on my screen once more. This time, I took the time to watch the video, and after that, I knew that I had to wear my dress.
Soon, I came to realize that wearing this dress was planting a seed in myself and in others around me. A seed of who I am (and perhaps, who they are) in this moment, with the potential for growth.
Within a few hours, I knew that this seed had already began to grow when one of our champions approached me sharing their love for the dress — its patterns, its style, its fun. Moments later, an older gentleman from one of our partners complimented the dress and asked how he should refer to me.
The following day brought tears to my eyes, when one of our program participants approached me, shared that they too were non-binary, and thanked me for showing up, creating space, and making them feel welcome. By this point, I realized that this seed had started to sprout in multiple places.
While I walked through the lobby in my dress, I was mainly worried about someone saying something negative, trying to sneak a picture to share in a private group chat (which had already happened at two airports on my way to Florida), glancing at me with wide eyes, a blank face, a cold stare. I was not consciously thinking that wearing the dress would have an immediate positive effect on the other people at the conference.
A few days later, a few more folx that are members of the trans community approached me to thank me for wearing the dress. One of them said that they sometimes worry about expressing the femme side of themselves, but seeing me in a dress made them feel empowered to be themselves. They mentioned being excited about the fashion they’ll exhibit next year.
This moment, these feelings, those sentiments shared — I will cherish them for the rest of my life. And I know I’ll think of each of them every time I wear a dress, and I am so grateful for that.
Every moment you are being your true self, you are planting a seed in your garden of life. Some of those plants last a season, some a lifetime, and some expand to others gardens too. You may never know the power you have by being yourself.