Edited by Alloe Mak

To simplify it in as few words as possible, quantum mechanics is the study of matter at the atomic level. It is widely known as an incomprehensible topic of physics—those who go to sleep understanding quantum mechanics will likely wake up confused once again. Despite its fundamental nature, it is a still fairly new area of study with advancements being made every day. 

I have never been able to settle on a label when it came to my gender. To those who know me, depending on what phase of adolescence I was in, I could have been anything—a girl, a boy, none of the above, or all of the above. There has always been a sense of blatant wrongness combined with hopeful acceptance that followed whatever I called myself, as if only parts of the label clicked, while others clashed. Due to this, I had the hardest time explaining what I was and what I would like to be called. Nothing has felt perfectly right, and this unsettling feeling has followed me, mimicking a ball and chain. Near the middle of high school, I settled on the label of non-binary, in the same way a child would wear shoes a size too big, wishing that I would grow into it. Did I? I wouldn’t be able to tell you.

While quantum physics and gender seem like two completely separate topics, I recently stumbled upon a striking parallel between myself and the very nature of quantum mechanics—I am in a superposition. 

A superposition, in the quantum world, is when a particle can exist in multiple states simultaneously. These states are of different properties, such as position, energy, momentum, or spin, suggesting that one particle could be at two separate positions concurrently. 

A classic example of this is Schrödinger’s Cat. Imagine a cat in a sealed box that contains a radioactive source, a Geiger counter, a hammer, and a bottle of poisonous gas. The Geiger counter can measure radioactive decay, which happens when a radioactive source releases particles randomly into the atmosphere. When the Geiger counter senses decay, it will cause the hammer to smash the bottle, thus killing the cat. However, due to the probabilistic aspects of the decaying process, as an observer outside the box, we can never truly determine whether the cat is alive or dead, as we do not know when the gas is released. We can predict that, as time goes on, the cat is more likely to be dead than alive, but we never know for certain. This cat would then be in a superposition between two states, both alive and dead simultaneously. It is only when we observe the cat (e.g, by opening the box) does it jump into a defined condition. The observation does not have to be with our eyes. It can be indirect, such as hearing a meow from inside the box. However, once the cat is silent, we would have no way of knowing its status, and it returns to a state of superposition. Without observations, the cat could have been dead before it was alive—the possibilities are endless. This concept of superposition can be applied to every single particle in our world. 

(Yes, this does suggest that we never truly know the location—or anything, for that matter—of every particle in our universe. If you think too much about it, it will hurt your mind. That’s okay. That’s how I feel about gender as well.)

Similar to Schrödinger’s Cat, I am consistently in multiple states—simultaneously both a boy, a girl, and agender. As long as I don’t think about it, I am simply existing in a goop of genders. However, the second I am witnessed, I become something conclusive. The act of witnessing stretches from my self-perception to others’ perception of me. For example, when I referred to using she/her pronouns, I feel as if I have jumped into being a girl, despite personal statements about my agenderness. This is different from being misgendered—that feels sharp and precise. It is more of a simple nudge in a direction for an extended period before I shift back into a state of unknown. This notion describes why labels never felt completely wrong or right—it was as if I could be anything I was told I am. 

It is not as if others are in complete control of my gender. I believe my self-perception plays the largest role. For most of my life, the main reason I questioned my non-binariness was that I wouldn’t always experience gender euphoria when referred to with neutral pronouns. I was often more excited about the person’s consideration for me than being affirmed. The same goes for gender dysphoria or misgendering. There were times when being typed as a girl made me want to claw off my ears, and then there were times when I was confused about who was being referred to when called a boy. My own belief of who I am was much stronger than others telling me my gender. However, they do hold some part. I found that if I was considered a girl, by others, for a long period, even if I believed I was a boy, I would find myself falling into a more feminine tone. 

I realize this sounds as if I was genderfluid, and for a long time, I did secretly consider myself as so. However, quantum mechanics describes the superpositional nature of myself in a coherent manner, much better than the term gender fluid does. I do not exist as both a girl and a boy or neither a girl nor a boy. I am a mess of all of those in one, until I am pressured into a state by myself or others. There is no correct term to label me; there are times when I can be briefly defined, yet I always find myself back in the void of everything.  

This continuously changing part of myself is something I have come to embrace over time. There is endless beauty in the fact that everything I become is something I have complete comfort in, and that everything I leave behind was true to myself, even for a moment. I am as much of a girl right now as I was a boy, and I know, in some time, the opposite will be true, and then none of it will be true. 

Similar to each particle in our vast universe, I am everything all at once.