I got lost at the circus as a child. I must have been anxious, but mostly I remember feeling at peace with being separated from my parents – an early ambivalence to being part of my family of origin.
I had a bourgeois, Jewish upbringing. My mother worked promoting racially integrated housing. My father was a dentist – loving and kind. They were liberal Democrats, but liberalism has limitations. We argued. They weren’t happy about my early lesbian relationships, gender-nonconforming appearance, criticism of Israel, and more.
Getting discovered with my teenage girlfriend by her parents caused an explosion. Two families condemned each other, accused the other of all sorts. Social workers and psychiatrists were summoned.
My silliness surprises people. People assume I’m stony-faced and serious, when in fact I tend to clown around.
Swimming is the closest thing I have to a religion. It’s one of life’s few experiences where the world isn’t pushing you back. A good swim means losing all sense of time.
Following a fight at school, a teacher asked me to imitate a tree. He wanted me to learn to bend, rather than always digging down into an entrenched, immovable position. At the time I thought it was stupid. Now I see the value in being tree-like.
My kayak capsized during my senior year of high school. I was out with a friend near the Canadian border. I felt myself freezing up, becoming numb, as I tried to swim against the current, away from a waterfall. I woke up in a strange camping ground, hungry but alive.
Give way and be willing to renew, that’s what makes a relationship. I’ve been with my partner 35 years. Sometimes we live together and at other times apart. We affirm each other’s work and give each other space.
Trump’s re-election shocked me. One wants to think the American public is smarter. But we’re not. I always knew it was possible, and felt the Harris campaign faltering. I didn’t realise how effective some of Trump’s campaigning would be, or the scale of men’s private identification with him.
The progressive left is full of schisms and sectarianism. We need to be capacious and accept differences, however deep. Those differences are lesser than those between us and emerging authoritarian and fascist regimes.
“Non-binary” can feel a paradoxical phrase. My position has always been that some people fall between the established categories of gender. Many non-binary people think of it as a positive identity. For me, it’s a simple description of the fact I find myself living between categories. Not an identity, but a distance from one.
I change my mind all the time. We tend to listen to others having already made assumptions about what they’ll say. Instead, be prepared to be surprised by what others feel and think.
Potatoes are a love of mine. Thinly sliced, then grilled is best, with a little salt, garlic and oregano. I’ll eat all iterations happily. Mashed, though, no thank you. Where’s the sense in a potato with no crispness?
I regularly contemplate stepping back from the public domain. There are periods when I go quiet. Nobody is indispensable – people with a constant presence can forget. Still, I’m angry at injustice, and have a platform by virtue of my name. I have a responsibility to use it effectively.
Find joy to sustain yourself. Amidst all that is terrifying, without things you love, anxiety and fear will consume.
I never did come out of the closet. I’ve only ever been outed. One day, I might do it for myself.
Who’s Afraid of Gender? By Judith Butler (Penguin, £10.99) will be published on 20 February. Buy a copy from guardianbookshop.com at £9.89
