Motherhood is often framed within a strict, binary construct: moms are women. But the reality is far more complex. As a nonbinary person who identifies as a mom, I exist outside of that rigid definition. And I’m not alone. Many nonbinary people and trans men have navigated parenthood while holding onto the title of “mom,” even as it no longer fits within society’s expectations of who they are.
My partner, for example, is a trans man. He is also a mom. These identities are not mutually exclusive, yet the world often denies them space. In communities centered around motherhood, there’s an unspoken question: is this a space for only women? Only cisgender women? Are trans women welcome? What about trans men and nonbinary parents who still identify with the title of “mom”?
If the assumption is that all moms are women, then many of us are already pushed to the margins.
Gendering Everything
The idea that a person’s gender must align with a particular parental role is a symptom of a larger issue—our tendency to gender everything. But does gendering these roles add meaningful specificity, or does it simply make spaces more exclusive? When creating space, it’s important to ask ourselves: who do we want to include, and who gets left out?
I was assigned female at birth, and because of my body and presentation, I’m often perceived as a woman, even though I’m not. I have shared experiences with women—cis and trans alike–like workplace discrimination, sexual harassment, and navigating the world under the weight of being read as a woman. While these experiences may be shared, my identity is different and exists outside of that framework, even as I continue to be shaped by it.
We know that concepts like gender and race are social constructs—creations of society rather than inherent truths. And yet, these constructs impact us in profound, tangible ways. The binary system itself is made up, and still, the way people perceive and categorize us shapes our lives.
Creating Intentional Spaces
So when we build spaces—mom groups, parenting communities, support networks—how do we decide who belongs? My best friend is nonbinary and was assigned male at birth. I’m nonbinary and was assigned female at birth. Would they be welcomed in a mom group? Would I? Are these spaces only for nonbinary people who were assigned female at birth and/or present as more femme? These are the kinds of questions we need to be asking if we truly want to create inclusive environments.
And it’s not just about gender. Even in so-called inclusive parenting spaces, the assumption of heteronormativity lingers–in the way we talk about couples, marriage, and even the kind of heartbreak our children might cause (“Oh, he’s gonna break so many girls’ hearts!”). Breaking the norm requires actively naming and making space for those outside of it, not just passively allowing for the possibility of their existence.
Finding a Space Where I Fully Belong
For me, the struggle is in finding a space where I fully belong. In queer circles, I feel seen in my gender and identity, but many of my queer friends don’t have young children. In parenting groups, I crave connection, but the language and assumptions often make me feel invisible. The balance is hard to find, and I know I’m not alone in this.
What has helped me in the search is hearing from others—friends in other cities who have found what I’m looking for: queer-affirming, gender-expansive parenting spaces where people of all identities and family structures are truly seen and celebrated. Their stories give me hope.
But for me, here, the reality often feels disheartening. I show up to events with optimism, only to leave feeling invisible or like I’m asking too much simply by existing. I haven’t yet found a space where my pronouns are asked and used without prompting, or where being a mom doesn’t automatically mean being assumed a woman.
A non-negotiable for me is also racial diversity—spaces that not only reflect a range of racial identities but are willing to lean into the hard, necessary conversations about how race, gender, sexuality, and parenting intersect. Without that, the space still feels incomplete, no matter how welcoming it tries to be. I often wonder if such a space exists here—or if I’ll always be searching, wondering whether full belonging is only available elsewhere, or only possible in fragments.
My Hope
What I hope for is more intentionality. If a space is for moms, let’s talk about what that means. If a space is for women, let’s be clear about who is included and who is not. And if we truly want to build inclusive communities, we have to actively challenge the norms we’ve inherited.
Not all moms are women. Which moms are welcome in your space? Saying a space is inclusive is a start—but what does it take to make people actually feel like they belong?
