When I joined a queer running group, I was one of the only nonbinary people, and thought, "This is not for me. It’s for a very particular kind of gay man."

But sometimes the right people gravitate towards you.

There’s been a flood of being the featured nonbinary runner in publications and ads. There's been a lot of celebration and joy with a recent ad, where for the first time, I really got to feel witnessed for who I was. It was beautiful.

But by the same token, it attracted negative comments. I want to preface that anything that has been written negatively about me online, is not a thing anybody would say to my face.

I've heard everything from "you're in the pocket of Big Pharma" to "you're what's wrong with America" to "go cry to your therapist".

It reflects a deep fear and self-loathing people feel about themselves. They go into a spiral of their own when they see somebody who is comfortable in who they are, who is happy, and is embracing their joy.

It troubles me how some people in the LGBTQ community say, "I've been married to my husband for 20 years. I've been a member of the gay community, and I don't associate with feminine people or trans people like you. I'm very uncomfortable around that."

It’s illuminating a larger conversation within the queer community: "How do we take care of our own and embrace our own? What are some stories we've internalized from the dominant society that make us self-policing?"

I take none of it personally. If you can get through a certain part of your adolescence and life, shouldering the negative comments being like, "Yeah, whatever, I'm going to do what I want," then as an adult it doesn't mean anything. But it is information, for sure.

I didn’t expect this visibility, and didn’t expect that advocating for trans and nonbinary athletes would be part of my story. But here we are.

[As told to @Ragi Gupta — continued]