Sort Of Proud: Nonbinary BIPOC Representation and Demanding to be (Authentically) Seen

What does it mean to try to be visible when everyone else demands you see them first? This is what  star and  co-creator of Sort Of Bilal Baig asks through a show that poignantly reflects on and explores the balancing act of queerness, transness,  and Pakistani identity– and how people’s perceptions are often the result of projections of their own fears, regrets, and paradoxical navigations of life itself. In other words, what is pride except a celebration and unbridled acceptance of who you are, at whatever stage of your journey? 

“You don’t really see me.”

This is what Lewis, Sabi’s initial love interest and boyfriend at the beginning of episode one, hurls their way after Sabi gives them a birthday present of ramen noodles (an ode to their first date/romantic encounter) and Post Malone tickets (despite Sabi hating Post Malone). He attributes it to his repeated emphasis on not wanting anything for his birthday, while Sabi sits baffled as Lewis accuses Sabi of never listening or hearing him– despite their gifts proving otherwise. Of course, Lewis’ accusations are meant to shock and confuse the audience  just as much as Sabi. Here is this white man in his early 30’s who refuses to kiss his nonbinary Pakistani partner in public (which Sabi poignantly demands later in the series– though I won’t spoil the circumstances with which this arises),  insisting that he is the one who is invisible. Unheard, unseen. 

Lewis begs Sabi to take him back in a grocery store. Courtesy of CBC Television 2021.

Clearly this is a projection of his own insecurities, his shame, his struggle with his sexuality and gender identity. But it doesn’t matter. In the end, Sabi goes home alone, heartbroken and silenced by a man they thought loved them. Of course, the heartbreak doesn’t linger– especially as it turns to anger when Lewis cheats on Sabi with his white, blond, and conventionally attractive ex-girlfriend. Someone who clearly doesn’t “see” him, but is comfortable and willing to oversee his own contradictions and complications. To mask any she may possibly have so that he is more comforted. Sabi deals with this again and again– that the people in their life largely  refuse to fully acknowledge or understand the multitudes of Sabi,their life, and their identity. Instead, they attribute a veneer of “realness” and authenticity to Sabi for daring to even live out loud in some ways, and demand that Sabi sorts that out for them as well. But as the title of the show suggests, Sabi’s existence and identity is complicated– full of borders and boundaries that are transgressed and transformed. Sabi themselves is figuring out what that means for them, and what they truly want. 

This is the core of Sort Of,  a Canadian television sitcom dramedy that follows Sabi Mehboob, a Pakistani non-- --  binary millennial trying to figure out how to live life “authentically” while balancing the pressures and expectations that come from culture and their Pakistani immigrant parents, bartending at a LGBTQ+ bookstore and bar, and working as a nanny to a couple. As the series progresses, Sabi has to grapple with difficult relationships and complex emotions, including their mother who discovers for the first time Sabi is non-- --  binary, caregiving for a family ruptured by a horrific accident and who demands Sabi sees all of them, and an ex who cheated on Sabi with a cis-- --  woman and is ashamed of Sabi’s gender identity and presentation. Ultimately, Sort Of explores what life is like as non-binary millennial trying to carve out stability while dealing with cultural pressures and societal expectations, and what “authenticity” even means. 

Because I truly believe you should watch Sort Of (a show that made me laugh and tear up and reflect seriously on my own identity and life and has 2 seasons currently out on HBO-- --   sorry, Max as it’s now known), I’m not going to spoil what I believe is a really poignant story aside from the beats established above which are so significant they have to be discussed to understand what this show is doing and why it’s so meaningful as representation. I will point to the fact that through the course of the first season, Sort Of establishes 5 central themes of importance; 1) The difficulties with labels and pronouns even in transgressive way; 2) how heteronormativity causes fears and projections from others when confronted with queerness and transness; 3) the concept of family, love, and motherhood and the paradoxes it creates with misunderstandings and ignorance of trans and queer realities and identities; 4) the divergence from heteronormativity that hijra and third gender identities present culturally and what this means outside of Eurocentric views and understandings of identity; and 5) growth, change, and transition in the face of identity as well as the idea of restorative justice and forgiveness. These are profound topics, and yet as NPR poignantly puts out, Bilal Baig through their writing and performance as Sabi approaches these concepts with a humility that makes them accessible and digestible– whether an ally, a Queer Trans and/or Person of Color (and/or Black and/or Indigenous), or someone who simply knows or perhaps loves a QTBIPOC person. 

To understand the 5 themes I’ve established, we must understand the point, or rather, the person at which they intersect– Sabi. Again, no spoilers–   but I think what Sort Of brilliantly captures is that once you come out (even selectively), your journey as queer and/or trans person doesn’t fix or stabilize or coalesce fully. Instead, it’s still a journey that’s often confusing and as difficult as it is joyful or meaningful. Addressing the first theme, Sabi is continuously misgendered- both gendered as a man and as a woman when they identify as neither in the show. When Sabi is misgendered as a man, it is because the people around them knew them pre-transition and do not accept or understand their current gender identity. For newer people, it’s often a deliberate attempt to try to misalign Sabi somehow. When Sabi is misgendered as a woman, it is a reinforcement of the gender binary with many cisgender people operating under under the assumption that anyone who presents as “very” feminine must be a woman. This is likely due to a dearth of visible nonbinary femme representation. Ultimately, Sabi’s nonbinary gender identity is rarely recognized, and the show raises an important critique about trans and nonbinary (and even queer) representation; that even as these individuals are open about who they are, they are often denied or diminished the fullness of their selves and identities. That is to say, representation does not constitute recognition. Sabi is often very bold with their fashion and very feminine, but in spaces where they feel threatened or uneasy, they don layers in an attempt to conceal and protect themselves; that is to say even though Sabi is out and visible, they are still grappling with how they are seen and how they wish to be perceived. 

On that front, Sabi is continuously grappling with the idea of realness– a term that has ties to not only the concept of authenticity but ballroom culture’s conceptions and grapplings with gender, where realness is constituted as a performer’s ability to blend with cisnormative expression and pass themselves off. Over and over again, Paul, the father of the family Sabi caretaker for tells them they are so “real” – which Sabi reacts to with visible confusion. What is that supposed to mean? Especially when their best friend, 7even (who is also non binary and is half Black) tells Sabi continuously that Sabi is not embracing their identity, and the way they have constructed their life is not “real” or queer enough. While Sabi is happy with their life, and aspects of 7even’s assertion is problematic, even Sabi feels that 7even’s words ring partially true.  Bessie, Paul’s wife as well as a source of recognition and comfort for Sabi, reveals to Sabi  “I think you threaten him”. Sabi's very ability to be "real" (as Paul gratingly puts it  throughout the show)  reflects on everybody's own relationship with authenticity and how they project on others what they feel about identity and personhood, sexuality, gender, and other categories of being. The other moments beyond Bessie’s revelation that Paul is threatened by Sabi, point to how others are threatened by Sabi– by their “realness”, gender discursiveness, and embracing of non-normativity even as they struggle to define what that exactly looks like. Subsequently, the second critique the show brings up is that there is a institutional and societal need deeply ingrained in individuals to constantly police and maintain heteronormativity, sometimes compounded by cultural practice (which in turn has often been distorted by colonialism and patriarchy), projecting foreignness and depravity upon the queer and trans by marking it as “other” when really queerness and transness simply signify transgressing norms and embracing authentic identity. 

Queerness and transness merely point to the fragility of heteronormativity, which is predicated on strict binaries that are meant to never be questioned, which queerness and transness intrinsically center (questioning). Sabi’s own acts of questioning threaten both queer norms (which often establish narratives that once you come out, you know your sexuality and gender identity definitively) and cis/heteronormative ideas of identity that are too rigid and antiquated. This also connects to critique/theme 4- that Eurocentric ideas of not only what gender and sexuality is supposed to mean cis/heteronormatively are limiting, but even those ideas are queered and put through trans lenses, they fail to account for the experiences and perspectives Black Indigenous and/or People of Color ‘s cultures and the way queerness and transness has often always historically existed in those contexts (and often been erased by colonialism). While India, Pakistan, and other South Asian cultures and groups  are often ashamed of Hijra and other “third-gender” identities, historically they were once celebrated and incorporated into reverent spiritual practices, and occupied respected positions of royal courts. That has since been erased by British imperialism, among other colonial practices. 

The idea of what family and personhood is supposed to be is often grounded in the concept of nuclear family. But as Sort Of establishes with Sabi and their mother, in (queer and trans) reality that is far more complicated. Over and over again, Sabi denies their mother the full knowledge of who Sabi is, afraid to be rejected. And at times, their mother is ignorant or makes cutting comments. But this also denies the culture and patriarchal notes of gender roles ingrained in Sabi’s mother, and also denies the fact  she deserves the opportunity and grace to learn. Especially when for much of her own life, Sabi’s mother Raffo was denied her own personhood and identity, subjugated by an oppressive husband. Therein lies the paradox of family and queerness and transness– sometimes the conditions of one appears to violate the sanctity of the other. However, they need not be in opposition, even if not all of your family is redeemable. For many white queer and trans narratives, the solution is cutting off your family. But that is an impossible path for many BIPOC individuals, where culturally family is everything and very much a part of one’s personal identity. Sort Of illustrates the inbetweens, and the messiness of relearning who your family is, even the one you’ve known your whole life. 

Finally, Sort Of emphasizes with Sabi meaningfully how identity encompasses growth, change, and transition for all manners of people, and that in that course forgiveness needs to be centered. The show is very emphatic that certain people do not deserve grace or justice (without spoilers, Lewis for example) but that others do deserve it (Raffo). And most importantly, we’re all on journeys of discovery and growth. That continues to be true for queer and trans people– 7even makes tough choices and finds that simply embracing their queerest most nonbinary self isn’t simple or the path for them after all, and Sabi struggles with their identity even as certain labels and terms resonate more and they present themselves in a more gender affirming way. That is what I find most important about Sort Of– every character gets to be their full self, even when that is filled with the awkward messiness in betweens of the growing pains of figuring one’s self out. Queerness and transness take center stage, but not artificially– and they don’t define the characters completely. That’s what good meaningful representation is. And that’s why this show, and the character of Sabi, is so important.