Alex, by Jamie Zeske

Alex (any female or gender neutral pronouns):

I know what you want me to say, about coming out: the secret shame, the “It Gets Better,” the well-adjusted gay adult embracing marriage equality, but that’s not me. That’s not how it happened. My coming out wasn’t this all-in-one, family dinner, Facebook post I could just get it over with all at once, it’s a lifelong process. Starting back in elementary school with jerks (“You’re a faggot”) and my friends (“Everyone thinks I’m gay just cuz I’m friends with you”) and my Junior High boyfriend (“Everyone knows about you, and if everyone knows about you they’ll know about me, and if they know about me I’ll never talk to you again, I’ll hate you, I’ll hurt you.”) And then in High School, my Drama teachers (“Bisexuality is a lie! It’s a phase, pick a lane!”) I never felt shame for who I was or who I wanted to be with, but shame was planted inside of me. All I knew is I liked people, and hugging and laughing, and sharing secrets at sleepovers. But shame was planted in me and so I carried it around. I carried it through trying out for cheer leading and, “Why are you friends with only girls?” and getting my head slammed into tile and knocking out my two front teeth on Take Your Daughter to Work Day. And so I carried it. And then I started to find words that made a bit more sense to me, like “transgender” and “genderqueer” and “woman trapped in a man’s body,” except I’m not trapped in a man’s body, I’m trapped in a man’s role. So I came out, again in 2012 to my family, my friends, my co-workers. They all know I’m a girl. Everyone knows I’m a girl but still all day, every day, I have to come out. To gas station clerks, to customers, to Lyft drivers, to therapists, to Grindr hookups, to the lawyer for my DWI case. Everyone knows I’m a girl, or “that I think I’m a girl,” but still, all day, every day, I get a lot of “sir”s and “bro”s…being treated as a man even though I’m a woman, even I begin to question it, it gets in my head. The shame and doubt are planted too. So I have to look at myself, and come out to myself: as a queer, as a woman, of someone worthy of love, as someone with a lot of love to give. And when I do that, it gets better.

Context about the monologue: This is an original stand-alone monologue from a video project.


Azul, from Gender of Attraction by Chris Rivera

Azul. Maybe that’s true, but for dating? I don’t want someone in love with half of me. So if I went out and found myself a gay boy, half the time he wouldn’t want me. Or he would think I was playing dress up. And if I meet guys while looking like I did last night, they want a woman. Mitch… the guy from last night… Mitch, he probably wants a cis woman. I made him leave so he didn’t see me once the makeup started to wear off. He wanted to stay, but… he was respectful about it. God you’re right. I’m never gonna see him again. (Rosa: You might! You never know) You know, There are sometimes I wonder if I actually would transition. I wonder if I’m not genderfluid, if I’m just a woman. I wonder if I’m just scared because I’m afraid no one will ever love me again. Or… Rosa, seriously, I don’t know a single trans woman who hasn’t been in a seriously abusive relationship. These guys… I feel like there are more and more people who are okay with people being trans, and gender nonconforming, they are okay with the fact that we exist. But people are disgusted by men who love us. There are guys who will watch trans women in porn, but the few brave enough to date a trans woman are so shunned, and questioned. So many become closeted about their relationships and self-hating, and guess who it usually gets taken out on. So many more trans women than cis women are killed by their partner. In the first two months of this year, six trans women were murdered. I just… sorry, that was a really long- winded way to say it’s not easier for me. And a lot of other people have it harder than me.

Azul. This was really shitty and messed up of us…of me. And you should be mad. And the only defense I have…is just another reason we shouldn’t be together. I really like you. But I can’t trust you. And that is my fault, not yours. It feels great when we are together, but then I think about things and freak out. I worry part of you is fetishizing me and you are something of a tranny chaser, and I worry that if we really tried to seriously date that you’ll eventually want to be with a cis woman and have the whole kids-and-suburban-life thing. I worry that you don’t understand me, or that you’ll always be ashamed with me, that people will shame you and question you like they have me. But I can’t walk away from who I am, and you can walk away from me. I worry I will lose my heart to you and I’ll end up crushed. I worry that I have already started to, and that is crazy, I know I have known you for like three days and I’m acting this neurotic. And that is completely unfair drama that no one should be dating. You shouldn’t date me. I’m quite obviously a mess. And… you should just run before my mess becomes contagious.

Context: Gender of Attraction is a romantic comedy that puts the spotlight on genderqueer and trans relationships. Azul, a gender non-conforming drag performer meets straight identifying Mitch. They fall for each other, but Azul worries the relationship progressing is impossible. Azul speaks to their best friend Rosa about their fears after hooking up with Mitch. Those fears are later confessed to Mitch in the final scene of the play, after Rosa and Azul have put Mitch through an uncomfortable “test” to see if his intentions are good.

For more information on playwright go to

on Azul’s pronouns, I will give you their own words on the matter.

“And… my personal feelings about pronouns… towards me is… if I’m obviously presenting as a woman, say “she”. If I’m obviously presenting male, use “he” unless you’re gay and being sassy. If I’m presenting somewhere in between… use whatever. They, he, she. But that’s just me.”


Crissy, from Trans/Actions by K. Woodzick and Ayla Sullivan

CRISSY. I feel more comfortable choreographing for the girls now. (Beat.) I went to the hardware store the other day, to get an extra set of keys made and the clerk gave them to me and said, “Here you go, sir.” (Beat.) And I corrected her and said “My pronouns are she, her and hers and I actually go by miss.” And she said “Well, good for you,” and walked away. (Beat.) I told the management of the store and they kept asking me to give them more information. And I eventually got to the point where I was done. I choose to be an advocate, but I don’t have to put myself in a position to educate others all the time. (Beat.) Just once, I would like someone to ask, you know? To go into a store and have a clerk ask “What are your pronouns?” That would be…that would be….

(There are no words. The Song of the Roasted Swan from Carmina Burana starts to play. CRISSY begins to dance.) 

Playwrights: K. Woodzick and Ayla Sullivan

Context: This monologue happens in the last scene of the play. Crissy, a ballet dancer, is reflecting on the ways in which she moves through the world.


Contact: nonbinarymonologues (at) gmail (dot) com


Quinn, by Asher Wyndham

QUINN (non-binary, gender-fluid, trans) Yeah, it’s me, I’m back. Hellooo. I’m not waiting anymore in my car. I’ve eaten I don’t know how many tangerines. Let me see my grandpa. Please. It’s been almost an hour and I know he doesn’t take this long to get ready in the morning. Have you sponge-bathed him? Is he dressed in his purple suit?  Is he ready or not?! Why are you giving me the silent treatment, pretending that you’re on the phone… Today is our day, you know that. It’s the one day of the month he gets to see the sailboats and eat a BBQ-pork sandwich. He’s leaving with me in five minutes, and I don’t care if his dentures are yucky. Can you buzz me in? Stop buffin’ with that emery board and press that button. Ahh! It’s like Fort Knox here! Why, why are you looking at me like that? “Like whatttt?” If I had a mirror… Yeah, I got an attitude. You and everyone here at this Senior Citizen Home, you’re..not pleasant. No, you’re– I’m biting my tongue. *My pierced tongue.
(Sticks out pierced tongue.)
Let me through. When I need to see my grandpa, you shouldn’t make something up, like, “He’s not ready.” I know what you’re up to. And I’m not being paranoid. Look, it’s me, his grandkid. Yeah, yeah, I’m a bit different from the last time you saw me. Got some color. But I’m still his grandkid. He’s seen me like this before. My mother showed him photos on his phone. He’s from another generation, but he can handle it, unlike some people… For a Christian place, you lack hospitality! Ask yourself this, would Jesus buzz that buzzer? He would. He would get off that cross right above you, and he’d carry me like a baby to my grandpa’s room. Ahh! I’m helping my mom pay for his residence! So buzz the fuckin’ buzzer! Nowww!
*If the actor doesn’t have a pierced tongue then remove this line.
Context: This monologue was written for this website. Let me know when you use this for audition by emailing me at Thanks!


Powell, from Men on Boats, by Jaclyn Backhaus

POWELL. (gender fluid, non-binary, trans) Well. Some of you are here for sport and some of you are here for skill and some of you are here because you get a kick out of killing bears and some of you are here because it got your ass out of the army on a good note and some of you are here because you have nowhere else to go. You know why I’m here? I’m here because my friend, the fucking PRESIDENT of the UNITED STATES, needed a better knowledge of the arid lands of this nation. I am here because I was given a job. And in case you didn’t know, it’s hard for gimps to get jobs around these parts, so I am going to do this job to the best of my ability. And it just so happens that I’ve run more rivers than any of you all put together—I did the fuckin Mississippi up and down when I was 17 years old and I’ve done more tributaries than you can name on BOTH of your sorry hands. If you want to go over what we could have done to save the No-Name, then be my guest. But, instead of that, I am going to focus on the marvelous forethought we put into divvying up most of our supplies between each boat. And I’m going to thank God that none of us perished today, and that none of us broke any crucial bones. All of that is a win, in my book. We won’t make it to the end of this expedition if we focus on anything 35 other than wins. So, if you don’t want to go down to the wreckage tomorrow, then I’m sure I can rely on one of your fellow crew members to be a good sport. You got your fucking cliff, Dunn. Now how about a nice fucking rabbit dinner.

Context: Men on Boats is an anachronistic retelling of the 1869 Powell expedition, when a one-armed captain and a crew of insane yet loyal volunteers set out to chart the course of the Colorado River. The comedy premiered during the Clubbed Thumb Summerworks festival at the Wild Project in June 2015.

More information: