I’d never had strong feelings about underwear until I put on a pair of men’s navy Calvin Klein trunks complete with that little dicky flap at the front.
‘Oh, this is how underwear can make you feel!’ I thought upon first wear.
From that moment on, I never wanted to don women’s underwear again and on the few occasions where an outfit or dire laundry situation demanded it, I felt a bit sick.
For more fashion news, shoots, articles and features, head to our Fashion section.
I first considered wearing trunks after clocking that many cis-het female friends of mine wore men’s Calvin Kleins as pyjama bottoms to bed. Single pairs were being given as knowing gifts between girlfriends – partly because they were cool (underwear as outerwear was having a moment) but also because of their quality and comfort.
Enamoured with how they looked on feminine bodies, and seeing as it was an inconspicuous time to buy, I decided to purchase a few pairs for myself.
Immediately, the solid cotton silhouette pulled high over my hips made me feel more right in my body than I ever had before. The thick elastic waistband didn’t dig in uncomfortably, and the hemmed boy-leg finish refused to ride up my butt, allowing my cheeks to hang free and peachy.
As for the two layers of fabric at the front – I think it’s thanks to those that I realised I was non-binary.
As aware as I am that gender has nothing to do with what’s between one’s legs, this silly little fabric flap and all its social baggage helped cancel out the ‘womanliness’ I associated with underneath. I realised at that moment that I didn’t identify as a woman, didn’t want to be perceived as one, and would prefer they/them pronouns.
It seemed this ageing out, classic style of men’s underwear was what I needed to affirm the little gender-non-confirming alien I felt like inside.
After coming out to those around me, friends and health professionals asked if there was more to this, and I wanted to be able to confidently reply to questions like: Did I want to wear a binder? To present more masculine? Think about top surgery or take hormones?
So I gently felt out the parameters of my gender with how I presented myself, but, I realised for the time being I didn’t want to do any of those things (unless you count having short hair and hairy legs, which I’d figured out years prior). The only external non-negotiable at that point was wearing men’s trunks.
That was a few years ago. Now, I’m no stranger to snaking the men’s underwear aisles for fly-inclusive, 100 per cent cotton trunks. However, they’re getting harder to find.
The fly style (AKA flap, pocket, or ‘dick hole’) is losing floor space to those with a sewn-shut pouch for one’s hoo-ha to snugly fit. It’s a design change that seems to be linked to changing fashion and bathroom habits: men are wearing casual clothes more, using urinals less and preferring a supportive fit.
But it’s not just the lack of flap making my preferred pair more elusive. In recent years, men’s underwear has headed in (what I presume to be) a cost-cutting direction. The fabric is often stretchier, the buttocks more contoured and the waistband less giving. This means the material gathers in the crotch when there’s nothing to fill it out, and the elastic digs into bones and aggravates pressure points.
Simply put, they just don’t work as well on AFAB (assigned female at birth) bodies.
In my lack-of-a-penis pickle, I’ve looked into gender-neutral underwear brands like For Them, Tomboyx and Woxer to see if their products can help fill the gap. From an ethically-made standpoint, these brands tick all the right boxes and their designs accommodate a wide range of preferences on details like inseam, rise, fabric and fly. They understand underwear is personal and an important part of one’s gender expression.
Loud patterns and different silhouettes aside, some of their styles would suit me just fine and I’ve no doubt I’ll purchase from them down the line, when I can afford the mark-up (you’re looking at $30 to $40 AUD for one pair, compared to $7 to $25 from mainstream brands).
But scrolling these sites leaves me frustrated that it’s so hard to expect something similar from big-name brands in stores. That underwear which takes gender-expression, design preference, material quality and fair work conditions seriously is virtually an anomaly, only to be found online.
Meanwhile, the diversity bar for mainstream brands is so low that they self-congratulate on tokenistic pride lines, while doing nothing meaningful to cater to the the queer community they claim to be aligned with.
The design of briefs I fell in love with aren’t perfect. Without a double-layered gusset, they lack the cushioning and absorbency needed for AFAB bodies, causing the crotch to wear through before the rest of the garment (although this seems to be a problem for AMAB wearers too).
I don’t think those in the mainstream underwear industry are aware they’ve made gender expression more difficult for someone like me. And if they were, I don’t expect they’d care.
But I think they’re shooting themselves in the butt cheek by not doing so. Because a world where underwear designers understand their role in people’s gender expression would benefit everyone. Cis-het women who enjoy fuller coverage know it, non-binary folks have always known it, and who knows how many others are yet to discover what underwear really makes them feel their best.
Plus, then we might get frilly trunks with a fly, and those I’d like to try on.
For more on non-binary style, try this.
This article How a pair of men’s underwear helped me realise I was non-binary appeared first on Fashion Journal.
2025-02-19 07:19:00
#pair #mens #underwear #helped #realise #nonbinary
Source link
