Ashton poses for a portrait in Unit City on July 19, 2024, in Kyiv, Ukraine. “Changing my name was the easiest thing I could do — it felt like breathing again,” they shared. Photo by Saf Homin.
First of all, I'm curious how you came to identify as nonbinary.
It was three years ago? I think so. It feels like even more time has passed. At first, I found out what it was through the internet. I was intrigued by the they/them pronouns — the concept itself appealed to me. But I thought: “How can this work — they/them? That doesn’t make sense in our language.” That was my first reaction.
But over time, I slowly started to realize that I didn’t like it when people used “she/her” for me and that I wanted something closer to how I felt. That’s how I came to understand my gender identity.
At first, I just started using those pronouns online. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone, so I’d say: “Well, they/them, but you can use she if it’s easier for you.” And everyone kept using “she,” no one really cared. I used to think people would be uncomfortable switching to a different name, so I kept my old one. Even though I didn’t like it.
I guess I spent about half a year coming to terms with all this. It happened pretty quickly for me, mostly because I had a circle of friends who were all tolerant. I didn’t keep any homophobes or transphobes around me. There weren’t any issues with friends. The issues were with my parents. My mom was kind of scared at first, but then she accepted it. Now she’s really supportive. But with my dad — there are still problems. Even though I’ve officially changed my name, he still deadnames me.
“When I first came out, I explained it to everyone — literally every stranger. But now I just don’t have the energy,” Ashton said.
When did you change your name?
This spring, I think. The whole process took three or four months. The police had to check whether I had a criminal record. I paid them 700 hryvnias [around $18 at the time] and they took three months to do it…
Is that done through the passport office?
Yes. First, you submit an application, then run around gathering documents. I didn’t have everything — not even the Diia app. When I finally had all the documents, I submitted the application, which then went to the police for verification. That part takes the longest.
I wanted to get it all done before finishing ninth grade because I wanted my new name to appear on my diploma. And it all worked out well. I had just turned 16, so I could do it without my dad. Only my mom was involved. My dad… he wasn’t exactly against it, but he couldn’t be bothered to go anywhere. We just couldn’t coordinate — we have some organizational issues.
Have you faced stigma outside your friend circle?
Constantly. But it’s gotten easier with my name — like, when I register somewhere officially, it feels easier to breathe seeing that I sign with my new name. I’m lucky that most people who knew my deadname — I’m not in contact with them anymore. And those who stayed, switched, and it’s all fine.
But with pronouns, it’s still a problem everywhere. When I first came out, I explained it to everyone — literally every stranger. But now I just don’t have the energy. With the people who do know — I keep reminding them. I have a group of queer friends who get it, and even they sometimes mess up, because it’s not something our language is used to, but they try.
I was a bit anxious about work. At my first job, Hatul Madan, I didn’t know how people would take it. I thought: “I won’t socialize much — I’ll just put up with it.” But a friend who brought me in actually explained to everyone: “This is Ashton, their pronouns are they/them, this is how it works.” Then the admin who manages the team also reminded everyone. That was really nice.
Still, every time I meet someone new, I can’t tell whether they’re tolerant toward trans people or not. There have been cases where I see someone who looks “alternative” — piercings, colorful hair — and I think: “Okay, I’ll show them my pronouns,” and they reply: “We don’t do that.” Literally. Like I just offered them drugs or something. So now I usually just wait until someone asks, and then I explain. Then they say: “Okay, I’ll remember. It’s hard, but I’ll try.”
Is it also hard for people to understand plural forms?
Yes. I don’t like when people address me with the formal “you” (vy), but I use they/them pronouns. It’s so hard to explain — people’s brains just break. I say: “Use informal ‘you’ (ty), but the pronouns are they/them.” And they still use “vy” till the end.
But you don’t like being addressed as ‘you’?
Not really. But people still use it. My younger brother doesn’t care — he addresses me however, and that matters. At the store, in ATB, they ask: “What do you want?” and everyone stares…
How does your brother relate to your nonbinary identity?
He’s a gem. I love him so much. My mom and I asked him once. He’s very tolerant, cishet, but totally decent. New pronouns? “Okay, how do they work?” New name? “Cool.” No issues at all.
“Every day, I have to fight for my own boundaries and rights in every conversation, in every social interaction,” Ashton shared.
Does your mom use your new name?
She’s bi. She grew up in the 90s, hung out with queer people, including trans folks. She told me about it — I didn’t know before I came out. She accepted it. With the name, it was easy: “Want to change it officially? — Okay.” I explained the process, and we planned it all together. I’m really grateful that at least one of my parents accepted me.
So your close circle is mostly queer community?
Yes, exactly.
How do you think the full-scale war against Ukraine has affected the community?
It feels like… well, my coming out happened shortly before the war started. So I haven’t had a lot of trans experiences — mostly just online. And now there’s this feeling that queer issues are “not the time.” Like we can’t have more than one problem at once. There’s only war — everything else doesn’t exist. It’s really tough.
There’s this civil partnership bill being discussed, and every second person I talk to says: “I support gay people, but it’s not the time.” They say: “Let the war end — then we’ll see.” In my circle, nothing has really changed.
As a trans person, do you think about transition?
I have a lot of gender dysphoria. In an ideal world, I’d have top surgery. That’s in a perfect world, where I have money. But I don’t have anything right now. And the war has only made it worse with inflation and financial issues. But I didn’t expect much anyway — in this country, trans rights are basically nonexistent. The easiest thing I could do was change my name.
I don’t want to change my gender marker, because the only acceptable option for me would be a neutral one. And surgery or hormones — it’s complicated. I’ve heard it’s super expensive, and also that a lot of doctors here are ironically transphobic: “Did you like toy cars and blue when you were a kid? No? Then no testosterone for you.” I feel like if I showed up there, it would lead nowhere. Nonbinary people aren’t taken seriously.
Have you thought about moving abroad to a country where it’s more accessible?
Very much. I’d like to live in the Netherlands someday. I think things are pretty okay there with queer rights. But my financial situation has always been such that I don’t count on much — money plays the biggest role. Even if I move, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do everything. But ideally, yes, I’d love to. I don’t know if I want to stay here — as sad as that sounds. On one hand, this is my home country, and I want to promote queer rights here. But I’m just tired. Every day, I have to fight for my own boundaries and rights in every conversation, in every social interaction. And on top of that, you have to think about the big picture — and it’s exhausting.
When you say “fighting,” do you mean social interactions or broader struggles?
Both. Even when I meet someone new, if I want them to become my friend, I start checking: “How do you feel about LGBT people? What about this, or that? Okay, here are my pronouns. Is that okay with you?” It’s exhausting. And then there’s the broader fight — protests, rallies, signing petitions, legal reforms. I feel guilty that maybe I won’t want to keep doing all of that every day. I know that thanks to the people who came before, I have the rights I have now. So it’s complicated. But right now I’m just tired of life.
Is that fatigue connected to the war?
I think so. Things got a lot worse. Maybe that’s part of why I don’t explain nonbinary stuff to people anymore — I used to have less stress in my life, but now it’s all piled up. I’m just too exhausted.
Have you ever had confrontations in public? Misgendering or anything like that?
Only during conversations. But surprisingly, I’ve been lucky. People stare at me a lot — I don’t like that. I like being a freak. But no one’s ever really come at me. Maybe they’re intimidated or something. No one has ever gotten aggressive.
Have you had the opposite — moments that were gender affirming?
Yes! Like when someone can’t figure out if I’m a boy or a girl — that’s nice. Or in a store queue: “Oh, look at that cute boy,” or girl — and I’m like, thank you! That feels really good. Once I had a vest that said fuck gender and some guy came up to me like: “Who are you? Who are you?” I said: “Dude, chill out and move along.” And he left.
In your opinion, what do nonbinary people in Ukraine need most?
Rights — and recognition. We’re far from that. We should at least start with trans rights. Right now, gender transition here is treated as a mental illness — literally, you have to be hospitalized and diagnosed as “transsexual.” It’s ridiculous. And that’s just the beginning. When I look at the whole picture, I want to cry. There’s so much to do. And with the war, it’s even hard to think about it. We’re supposed to be moving closer to European standards, and this is where we’re at.
At the very least, I want there to be an official neutral gender marker in passports. At least that. Please. And for pronouns to be recognized too.
Interview conducted with Ashton on July 19, 2024.
