Alana Queer, non-binary trans activist, Cris Tro, non-binary teacher. “Educar és prendre partit”, Kamon Mateo , student of social work of trans neutral gender, Mel Constain , trans enby activist, racialised and diska in search of networks, tenderness and care, Regs DuFlor, artist, trans-enby, racialised latin migrant, neurodivergent, anarchist
Note: We will use the term ‘Enby*’ as an umbrella term or broad category encompassing various gender identities that do not fit the socially accepted definitions of ‘man’ or ‘woman’ (such as agender, gender-fluid, gender-neutral, non-binary, etc.), as well as those who are questioning their gender or have an original gender identity.
If you are a woman, imagine that everyone genuinely perceived you as a man. Conversely, if you are a man, imagine that everyone genuinely perceived you as a woman. That they did so every day, at all hours. Now imagine that you don’t understand this, that you don’t know where the discomfort comes from, that you cannot perceive yourself as a woman or a man. Imagine that every day you are identified and treated in a way that is painful or confusing for you. And amidst your confusion, your doubt, your anger, they demand a smile from you and, on top of that, you are expected to understand them when they suggest that your feelings are impossible or when they mock you. As if being a woman or a man were the only reality. Could you live like that?
Our lives, as enby* people, are marked by our invisibility and other forms of violence: we do not exist in society’s imagination. Hil Malatino says in his book Cuidados Trans that gender is a gift, in the sense that we never know what gender the other person will return to us. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that we already know, from experience, that we will very rarely receive the gift we always ask for. On rare occasions does the other person reflect back our perception of our gender, and most of the time they will push us into one of the two cages of the binary system. This is exhausting and causes harm; we are fed up with being misgendered, questioned, subjected to violence, and having to come out constantly.
Our enby* lives have been marked by a turning point for us that is now three years old: on 28 February 2023, the state LGBTI law was passed, a law that was sold to us as the solution to our problems, but which ultimately excludes enby, migrant, disabled people and children. This law contravenes international human rights standards, as well as the Yogyakarta Principles. Many enby* people experience and remember this event as ‘a time of mourning’: it made us feel completely abandoned by the hegemonic, privileged Trans and LGBT Movement. Those who previously claimed they would leave no one behind turned a blind eye and cast us aside so they could proclaim and celebrate their success.
Time has ultimately proved us right. In July 2025, the United Nations Human Rights Committee expressed, regarding the state’s LGBTI law, “its concern that this lack of recognition exposes non-binary people to situations of discrimination in various spheres, including public and leisure spaces, the education system, health services and employment, amongst others”. In other words, our human rights, guaranteed both by the Spanish Constitution and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, are being violated.
This social, legal and healthcare-driven imposition of a binary gender system – meaning that you must define yourself as either a man or a woman, or else you have no right to exist – takes a heavy toll on our physical, emotional and psychological health. According to the Transaludes 2024 study, in the last 12 months, 58% of enby* people have needed mental health care but were unable to afford it for financial reasons, and 69.3% have attended a psychological or psychiatric consultation, compared to just 6% of the general population. Enby* people, along with transmasculine people, also have the highest rates of self-harming behaviour—27% in the last 12 months and 40.4% more than 12 months ago; suicidal thoughts ranging from 35.4% to 45.2%; and between 6.9% and 31.8% of suicide attempts (social murder). Between a third and a half of us internalise sociocultural violence, with consequences for our mental health, injuries and death.
We cannot make decisions about our bodies and our well-being without worrying that we might be insulted, beaten up or even killed. All of this creates a silence, violence and fear of exposure that we internalise and which, in an attempt to protect us, isolates us. We neither know nor believe that we can talk about it or that we deserve to, and this makes maintaining or forming relationships difficult. Some have been subjected to violence or thrown out of their homes by their family or partner. Others live with daily violence because they cannot denounce it. In educational institutions, we often experience high rates of bullying, and in many cases, name and/or gender corrections are not applied; furthermore, teachers continue to use the wrong name or gender. The lack of legislative and social support leaves us at the mercy of this violence and with the knowledge that even our academic qualifications will not reflect our identity or may expose us in the future (due to the inconsistency between social and legal reality).
We’re terrified of graduating; we don’t know if we’ll be able to find work or if we’ll have to stay in the closet. Being in the closet hurts us and causes emotional damage, sometimes leading to self-harm (or worse), but it protects us from social harm. It’s a decision that no one should have to make constantly, at every turn. In our free time, the violence against our self-expression holds us back, as does having to accept the binary categorisation of our bodies (changing rooms, sports teams, toilets, gender-based pricing). In the media, we are a laughing stock, a mockery or an ideology that isn’t worthy of respect, and as a result we grow up without role models, which makes it difficult for us to understand our diverse reality and generates a lot of self-hatred and myths about how we should be.
Nor do we know whether we will be able to secure a place to rent, on top of our already precarious situation. This increasing hostility from the authorities means that we do not turn to them, nor do we report incidents, nor do we change our name (if we wish to) at the Registry Office—nor can we change our gender designation to one that represents us without going through the courts, and with no guarantee of success—nor are we assured that such corrections will be granted by the various regional health services (despite the fact that it is permitted to list ‘undetermined’ as the sex). We do not attend or reduce our visits to doctors, with the risk that this entails, for fear of being misgendered, of not being understood if we have difficulty showing our bodies, or knowing that, if we wished to undergo medical transition, we would likely be questioned, not referred, met with a lack of understanding, or denied something that is within the scope of services, whether or not it is a standard procedure.
This situation led us to consider organising the Enby* National Gathering: to recognise the importance of having a sense of belonging, peer groups and support networks in the face of violence and social exclusion, as well as the need to create spaces for collective action in the face of economic insecurity, a lack of medical care and violence. And above all, to explore how we can foster activism when insecurity and violence rob us of our ability to act and organise ourselves. Not only do we not exist for society at large, but it seems we do not matter to the hegemonic, privileged LGBT organisations that are well-established within the system either. We have learnt our lesson: we need to organise ourselves to make ourselves visible and have a voice of our own.
How has the meeting been organised?
It all began with a dream. Perhaps three or four years ago, Alana and Mel from Sexualiarte had a dream: ‘What if there were a national gathering of enby* people to build community, offer mutual support and create a network for activism?’ In 2023, we tried to secure funding, but unfortunately without success. In 2024, Alana took part in a Trans Europe and Central Asia (TGEU) training course on fundraising and building resilient, energised trans organisations, and they got back in touch with foundations. Calala – Women’s Fund offered us a small grant in the autumn, and that was motivation enough to get down to work in earnest to turn that dream into reality.
In December, we held the first meeting of the Seville group. We discussed forming a diverse steering group with representation from people from different parts of the country and with different backgrounds. It was difficult as we didn’t have any networks at the time; we had to rely on personal contacts and word of mouth. The first meeting of this steering group took place in Seville in February 2025: we tried to expand and diversify a little further, but without success. So, we focused on organising the gathering, whilst at the same time building a network. We owe a great deal of gratitude to every collective and every individual who shared in and trusted what we were doing. Each and every one of them made this dream possible.
From the outset, it was important to have a horizontal, diverse and intersectional vision. We knew we wouldn’t get there on our own, that we had a lot to learn and that we weren’t enough to address the diversity of our collective as we wished. To foster horizontality and start building networks, we launched an anonymous questionnaire to gather needs and wishes, as we wanted to do something that people really wanted and were asking for.
This helped us to confirm that need and fuel our desire. We wanted an event that would start to be accessible and politically engaged. We were left with many questions. In terms of age, 60% were aged 26–35, followed by 20% under 25, 16% aged 36–45 and 4% over 46. How do we reach older age groups? Is it down to the use of digital media? A lack of awareness?
In terms of location, most participants were from Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia or Seville. Is it due to ‘sexile’? Transport difficulties? As for migration and racialisation, less than 10% of us were racialised and the majority are migrants, and this is a question for all collectives: how do we achieve greater participation? What are white groups doing regarding accessibility or exclusion? Is it the fear and exhaustion from the racism they are bound to experience? And for everyone: is it precariousness, work-life balance, armoury, or the lack of networks to connect us?
We also wanted to take parenting into account, although there were no specific requests. As for disability, particularly neurodivergence, we had a high level of participation. The limited research available in Spain points to a high degree of convergence. Finally, we wanted to take into account the violence experienced and the difficulties of coexistence.
To support and safeguard this, we set up a participatory registration system and a system of financial and emotional support to enable people to attend the event and navigate it. We received a total of 91 registrations and had a final attendance of 75. We also drew up accessibility protocols and guidelines to know what to do if there were issues with attendance due to violence, how to mediate in conflicts arising from living together, and in situations of emotional or cognitive crisis; and how to act in cases of violence.
With this, a care group and a volunteer group were formed to try to look after physical and emotional wellbeing during and prior to the event. Even so, we saw that the consequences of constantly living with violence took a heavy toll on participation and our well-being. Job insecurity, having to hold down several jobs, managing daily life, being neurodivergent people without support, the fact that we were campaigning on several fronts, and being a small group led to burnout and overload in managing the event. We have had to learn that we need more support, learn to look after ourselves better, and fight for a system that allows us to do so, rather than blaming ourselves for failing to meet impossible standards whilst living in precarious conditions.
As a result, there were unfulfilled aspirations for future editions, such as holding meetings and training sessions for the care and volunteering group. We were left with the need for a space to think collectively and support one another in developing our activities more effectively, whilst also taking a closer look at the forms of violence we might be perpetuating – an area where we were open to feedback on certain aspects, which was subsequently shared with us and which we will take on board for the future. How fortunate we are to have a group with a critical perspective that has taught us so much and has been involved in bringing about change.
For the programme, we had two things in mind: on the one hand, that we needed to delegate it to the participants (it was them who brought their activity proposals); and on the other, that this wasn’t a conference about enby*, but a gathering where we could experience living enby* in all areas of our lives.
For this reason, we believed there were five essential areas in life: leisure and the arts, to foster the creation of bonds and to help us regulate and sustain ourselves in this new space (origami, short films, poetry…); sport, to make room for active rest and regulation (walks in the woods, circus…); relationships with oneself and others, to address our care needs and realities (neurodiversity, non-monogamy, somatic lab, spirituality, self-massage…); what we usually call ‘activism’, to understand what and how we want our realities to be and how to make them a reality (legal and employment issues, etc.); and group dynamics for managing the event and improving group cohesion and the creation of emotional and activist networks.
The First Gathering: Utopias
And then 5 December arrived. We arrived in Cercedilla feeling very tired, nervous and unsure of what we were feeling. We’re still coming to terms with the fact that we made our dream—and that of so many others—a reality. It was incredibly moving, yet felt so ordinary at the same time. A group of us arrived the day before to prepare the venue, the materials and the registrations, and to get to know one another, as well as to test the accessibility systems ahead of the event. We sat down, exhausted, by the fire that evening, trying to grasp that it was real.
As people started arriving, we saw the diversity we’d been talking about: a diversity of bodies, of ways of expressing oneself, styles ranging from more conventional to gothic, punk, sporty… There were fat bodies, thin bodies, bodies of all shapes and sizes, tall people, short people, people undergoing medical treatments, others who weren’t, and others where we had no idea. The first point of contact, as it should be in our society, was acknowledging names and pronouns, ensuring there were no questions, strange looks, body scans or snorts at having more than one name. Some names were chosen to match the one assigned at birth, others had been changed on official documents, and others hadn’t. We also collected other details such as dietary requirements, agreed on the rooms and provided some tools for collective care, such as cards to stop an activity in the event of violence or to signal a need for emotional support.
Amidst such diversity, there was one thing we all had in common: arriving with a mixture of excitement and fear – fear of whether we would face violence from outside, or of what it would be like to live together for so many days. Addressing that fear was crucial; we needed to find spaces for connection and hope, and so one of the first activities was to imagine utopias like the one we were experiencing at that very moment. Amidst so much violence and precariousness, being able to see ourselves as people with desires and believing that there is a liveable future is of vital importance. There, we could see the isolation, anxiety and depression that were a consequence of the binary gender system. That is why we wanted to allow ourselves to dream, to create new paths and to imagine a better future. After all, it is our dreams that give us the energy to keep fighting and living.
Our utopian visions were not confined to strictly enby* matters; they involved imagining a world that would allow us to be, to exist and to express ourselves through care and affection. Here we found a world without capitalism, without speciesism, without racism, without dysphobia, without fatphobia or other forms of aesthetic violence, with the intention of abolishing the family, the structure and norms of monogamy, heteronormativity, and other ways of relating to one another that go beyond norms and violence. We have not attempted to reach a consensus on these utopias – it might be worthwhile to explore what we want as a network, whilst accepting that there will be many valid desires and positions. But, at the Gathering, above all, we felt it was important to begin by imagining a better world.
Through the various activities, we wanted to embrace diversity, reflect, question and acknowledge our emotions and fears, and create a space that was safe enough to care for, respect and value our realities. With this in mind, during the workshops and our time together, we began to talk, and the topic of violence came to the fore. Being able to use your name and pronouns, feeling heard and knowing that your identity is perceived as it truly is, was very difficult for many. It is not just a name: it is the foundation of your identity, of our emotions and feelings, a way of inhabiting and making sense of the world; a social necessity, because identity also depends on the recognition of the people around you. This is what allows us to know that we deserve to be named, to be cared for, and thereby to have the strength not to remain stuck in any given place or to fight to escape spaces of violence. Without support networks, you can often only stay where you are being abused due to a lack of resources and the absence of the idea that there might be a better place.
The conversations went on and were also painful. The stories of bullying at school, the lack of awareness in university departments, the fears at work, the dilemma of whether or not to speak out, of whether people would find out, of whether you could keep your social media private, of whether it might cost you your job, your family, or your partner(s). They spoke of how those close to them who knew used their identity in moments of anger to delegitimise or cause harm; of how they had faced violence on the street for being visible, or how they didn’t dare to explore their self-expression to avoid aggression.
Many of us cried with joy and also with relief at the gathering, from feeling that for once we were in a place with equals, that we weren’t broken, and that if we dressed, looked, expressed ourselves or shared our realities, we wouldn’t be attacked. We stopped being labelled as sick or mad, as monsters who come to cause harm simply by existing, evoking a very bittersweet feeling.
In those conversations, the body came across as something to be cherished or as something that causes pain. We talked about how to cope with feeling less enby* because we didn’t want modifications or changes to our name, clothing or medical treatment. We also discussed the difficulties when you wanted a more androgynous medical transition or certain effects from hormones but not others, or when you wanted surgery without hormone therapy. How we were denied the chance to explore or express our bodies, whilst at the same time being constantly punished for everything: for upholding the binary system, for being confusing, for not being confusing enough for them to identify that you are enby, for wanting to transition, and also for not wanting to transition.
Those bodies and expressions were given a parade, so we could enjoy ourselves, feel powerful, show ourselves, celebrate, have fun, look after ourselves, and know that there were people who would love us just as we are. We cried with laughter, we laughed through our tears, and we healed each other with tenderness. Many of us stopped feeling dysphoria there—further proof that it is something imposed by society and internalised by us, a danger sensor.
Many of us stopped having symptoms of anxiety and depression, and for the first time, many of us felt that being autistic and neurodivergent wasn’t a punishment. That we could move around, not speak, communicate through drawings or writing, stim, rock back and forth, and express ourselves. We stopped feeling that simply existing equated to violence. Our symptoms are the aftermath of social harm, not a result of our identities. Binary violence comes at a cost: our physical and emotional health, and even our lives (social murders). What we truly need is social change; right now we need psychological support to cope with the violence, but without violence we wouldn’t have all these painful experiences. There we saw it: we could feel constant gender/identity euphoria or simply peace of mind.
There were also areas we didn’t manage to reach. There were instances of violence within the group and during the workshops. We still have a lot to learn, and we’re talking about it. We are a critical group with diverse perspectives across different fields, but we still have a long way to go in terms of becoming more politically aware, reviewing our practices to ensure our spaces are sufficiently safe, and learning to look after one another. Society does not teach us what care means or how to provide it; consequently, when faced with many unfamiliar realities, we lack the necessary tools. Furthermore, we must take into account the precarious living conditions we find ourselves in. We have learnt that it is essential to run workshops on self-care and collective care.
The decision to delegate most of the programme and the lack of resources led us to neglect something fundamental. We cannot have a enby space without addressing racism; colonialism is one of the foundations of binary thinking. Although we had some awareness of this from the outset, we still have a long way to go before the space breaks down barriers to participation, as participatory spaces tend to be white, uncritical of privilege, racist, and lacking in resources or willingness to facilitate participation. As a group, we have a lot to learn about this and must ensure we do not perpetuate these issues. We had less than 10% participation, but an overwhelming majority of racialised or BIPOC people were involved in the services that made the Gathering possible: the cooks and cleaners (while the management and administration of the space was indeed white).
This lack of anti-racist scrutiny was also reflected in the way we dealt with the racist violence that occurred during the gathering. In response, on Sunday we changed the programme to address these situations. We split into several groups: people of colour created a space for welcome, reflection, and for recognising and looking after the cooks who were also supporting us. White people, in different rooms, examined our white privilege, our actions, and how to contribute to the anti-racist struggle, as well as how to create a sufficiently safe space for people of colour and to integrate the importance of discussing colonisation when we talk about enby*. As a result, a specific ‘whiteness’ group has been set up to address and work through colonial violence.
We believe it is important to explain how colonialism and binary systems are linked. Alok V Menon discusses this in an essay (available in Spanish on the SOS Racisme website). Historically, bodily differences were first understood as a single body with different positions, either outward or inward; this then became a question of energy, followed by an anatomical issue, and subsequently dualism was posited as an exclusive dichotomy: two complementary yet opposing bodies. At this point, the (binary) ‘sexual difference’ between men and women was understood as a marker of civilisation, and Black, Indigenous, and other racialised people were labelled as ‘sexually indistinguishable’. As Alok V Menon puts it, ‘when the term “woman” was used, scientists were referring exclusively to white women.’ Or, as the German sexologist Krafft-Ebbing wrote in 1886: ‘the more evolved a race is, the greater the differences between men and women.’
For this reason, when we fight against the gender binary, we cannot set aside racism and whiteness. One cannot be understood without the other. Or, as Alok V Menon writes, ‘racism is fundamental to gender norms, and gender norms are essential to racism. Gender is a racial construction; race is a gender construction’. The colonisers imposed their sex-gender binary system, using it to assert supremacy and humanity over bodies not considered white. They imposed this system and, with it, heteronormativity, amatonormativity (the monogamous couple and marriage), and the notion that children are the property of their parents, amongst other things.
We wrapped things up, gathered our thoughts and asked ourselves the question we’d all been thinking: ‘How do we leave a space where we can truly be ourselves?’ For some, it was the first space where they could say they were enby and be respected without question; for others, the first space free from closets and constant violence; for some, the first time they’d seen people older or younger than themselves; and for all of us, the first time we felt free, part of a community, and that this was the life we wanted. Most of us said we didn’t want to leave; we felt as though a part of our lives was being snatched away from us once again. We felt pain at having to leave, and we went our separate ways hoping to stay in touch and maintain our networks. We also spoke at length about how we had hurt and damaged each other, about changes we are embracing as a collective and integrating as a group so that we can make amends or, at the very least, not repeat them. Sorry for the hurt caused, and thank you for your courage, patience and support.
Recognised, sustained by mutual support, and through learning shared by all: utopias are achievable. A life free from gender binarism is possible, and this has been proven, but we must fight for it. This is the goal we need to live by: an environment that respects our intersectionalities, our social needs, and the ways in which we live out our identities, bodies and relationships.
So where do we go from here?
We arrived without knowing one another, each of us with our own story, our doubts and our desire to find a safe space. And, almost without realising it, we began to become part of each other’s daily lives. Months later, something unexpected and beautiful has taken shape.
Through the networks we have created, we share our feelings, concerns, moments of distress and moments of joy. Every reflection shared in the groups we’ve created finds an echo, support and the affection we need. Through messages, laughter, venting and shared understanding, we’ve woven a network that sustains, embraces and reminds us that we’re not alone. What began as a dream lasting just a few days has become a chosen family—networks of life in which we support one another.
Plans are also being made to carry out specific actions in various locations. Since the meeting, an enby network has been formed in Aragón as a first step towards establishing further regional networks. The Enby activist group formed after the meeting is now coordinating actions for 26 March under the slogan “We Exist, We Resist!” outside civil registry offices in several cities. In addition, work is underway on proposals for workshops and other activities; there are plans for a small internal gathering in the summer; and we are already looking ahead to a second National Enby* Gathering in the future.
We have created a space for ourselves where we can thrive, with a determination never to fade away. A community network where we rely on one another, where every voice matters and every presence counts. And it is precisely there, in that collective and caring endeavour, that the magic of what we have created together lies.
Returning to our daily routine is still proving difficult after spending three days where almost all our discomforts were lifted, but we also know that this is not enough and that we must always strive for more, so that everyone can benefit from this way of life. For us, it is essential to live this way throughout our lives, and we believe that everyone deserves a life in which they are recognised, cared for and supported by networks.
Because our lives are currently marked by a constant struggle, but we are already coming together to put the necessary pieces in place to begin a new life. The First National Enby Gathering marks the start of a life in which gender binarism will no longer be upheld as the norm.
Published in El Salto, 13 March 2026 (in Spanish), https://www.elsaltodiario.com/lgtbiq/encuentro-enebe-realidades-utopias-caminando-juntes-un-nuevo-futuro
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