My ribs hurt as I am typing this blog post. Don’t worry, I’m fine, my current binder is just a bit too small for me. I try to only wear it two times a week, generally, and for less than six hours or so at a time. It’s not ideal, but I’m making it work until I am able to get a new one.

Now, why haven’t I gotten a new one yet? Well, let me introduce you to what it is like buying a binder as a mid-to-plus-sized disabled person.

Let’s start with the issue of sizing. There is a really strange and unfortunate stereotype that most trans-masculine people are skinny or small. This stereotype could stem from a number of things, with the first and most obvious likely being body standards for people assigned female at birth. Iris Marion Young discusses this in “Throwing Like a Girl,” describing the way in which women are more conscious of taking up space. We are not expected to be athletic, we are not expected to have muscle and bulk, as we are oftentimes not socialized to utilize our whole body when doing things. Part of the reason I have grown out of my binder is because I have begun to intentionally work out my back and shoulders in an attempt to look more masculine. Despite the fact that binders are used to make a person look less feminine, they tend to be built for exclusively “ideal” feminine bodies.

Sidenote: It is also a cultural thing within the trans community. There are lots of examples of quite famous trans people with smaller and thinner body types, so that is the ideal that many of us are told to strive for. I don’t want to be small, petite, or dainty. I want a dad-bod. There is a lot to be said for fatphobia within the trans community, but that’s an issue for another blog post.

Many companies appear to be size-inclusive, with sizes ranging from XS to 6X… until you look at the size chart. That 6X binder? It’s the size equivalent to an XL Gildan t-shirt. Any sizes larger than that have to be a custom order, in which you often lose any access to refunds or exchanges if it doesn’t work out. Not to mention, very few stores sell binders in person, so there is almost no chance to try before you buy. Additionally, in looking at various website FAQs, you can also lose access to returns and exchanges if you don’t fall into their size range. So if you buy a 6X binder, hoping and praying that it works, and it’s too small? You can’t get a refund. Too bad, so sad. If you have a non-normative body, something that doesn’t fit into this standard idea of a docile AFAB body, you are going to be out potentially hundreds of dollars between custom orders and no-refund-policies. I am just barely within the range of 6X, just enough that I worry buying them because they just might be a little too small.

Now let’s talk accessibility. I have asthma, a connective tissue disorder, and sensory issues. Clothes in general are a nightmare, let alone something tight to my body that restricts my movement and puts pressure on parts of my body that already dislocate incredibly easily (Fun fact, you can at least partially dislocate a rib! Ask me how I know!) “Accessible” binders like zip-front or clasping binders run the risk of being unsafe and causing rib damage, and pulling a binder over your head is a challenge even if you don’t have joints that like to jump ship at the slightest inconvenience. Reputable companies that make safe zip-front binders tend to charge upwards of $75 for them in standard sizing, and you’d better have some savings or a good credit card if you need a custom size. Not to mention, most binders are not safe to wear during periods of high activity. Transmasculine people are often forced into a level of “feminine” behavior by the standards of Erwin Straus, as described by Young in “Throwing Like a Girl” by the very nature of not being able to move freely, work out, or do too much strenuous activity in our binders. Young says “feminine bodily existence frequently projects an “I can” and an “I cannot.”” Despite my desires to have a masculine body, I am still confined by femininity, both metaphorically and physically.

In short, I’d like to have a word with binder companies. In long, my body is not docile, much to the dismay of normative clothing stores everywhere. There is so little about me that is “standard,” and it is far beyond being fixed, shaped, or made to be something other than what it is. And it is loud, large, and achy. And I will keep on searching until I find a binder that suits my needs, or scream about inequity towards fat and disabled people in the trans community until a holistic solution is found. Well, I’ll probably do both of those things.