By Taryn Hadfield
They wore a flannel shirt, black jeans and Vans.
Nothing from their appearance revealed masculinity or femininity. Their gender identity was a question left ambiguous and unanswered.
“I’m Lizzie,” they said, approaching with a slight swagger and a whimsical smile.
Lizzie Benson is a 21-year-old individual who is non-binary, which means they don’t identify as male or female. Benson prefers to go by the pronoun “they,” instead of “he” or “she.”
“When you think about it, non-binary is pretty vague, to be honest,” Benson said. “When you’re non-binary, you’re just outside of male and female, in this big, floaty space.”
Benson assumed their non-binary identity last year. While attending meetings for a local LGBTQA organization at Benson said they felt as if something was out of place within their body.
Lizzie Benson
“Basically, it’s like feeling like you’re off or wrong somehow like something is mismatched,” Benson said. “It’s like feeling like you’re outside of your body like your outside appearance doesn’t match what you feel inside.”
After months of researching different gender identities, Benson found comfort and clarity in the term non-binary. But after 20 years of identifying as a woman, making the switch wasn’t easy.
“It was really hard to let go of that woman identity because it’s kinda one of those things that’s just so deeply rooted in you,” Benson said. “I felt like I was giving up on being a woman.”
Growing up in Coeur d’Alene, Benson said they always felt like they never fully fit into the box of girl or boy.
“I played cops and robbers instead of house,” Benson said, laughing. “I had Pokémon cards. I had Yu-Gi-Oh cards… I did all the stereotypical ‘boy’ stuff and played ‘boy’ games.”
Benson grew up in a Catholic household and attended a private Catholic school. They said they hated the uniforms from the start — a plaid skirt, khaki pants, a white button-up shirt, colored polos, a navy sweater. They recalled hours spent in mass as an altar server, sitting, standing, kneeling and reciting songs and prayers.
“I hate religion,” Benson said. “It messed me up, and I think a lot of my gay and queer friends would say the same thing. Those kinds of patriarchal and misogynistic teachings really impact you and the rest of your life, and get imposed on kids at such a young age.”
At 15 years old, Benson said they were one of the first to come out as lesbian in their high school. This earned them a lot of stares, off-handed comments and ruined friendships. They said they remembered one of their best friends from Catholic school started sitting across the lunch room so they wouldn’t see Benson holding hands with their girlfriend.
Benson said they no longer affiliate with any religion or spirituality because of the rejection they felt after coming out. They said they’re unsure of the existence of a god or an afterlife, and instead choose to focus on the present.
“Well, if I’m stuck in hell, at least it will be a party because all the other gays will be there,” Benson said, laughing.
Benson is taking a year off school, and hopes to finish their degree in psychology and become a counselor for LGBTQA youth.
“I want them to have a safe space,” Benson said, smiling. “I want to tell them that it gets better.”