Photo by Patrick Perkins on Unsplash
As a person of non-binary gender, something I felt deeply drawn to in studying the underlying theory and clinical application of yin and yang is that they are, in themselves, non-binary concepts. While yin and yang can be seen as two ends of a spectrum (yang = light/yin = dark, yang = active/yin = passive, yin = dense/yang = airy, etc.), they are inherently fluid and relational as the edges of one can only be delineated in relation to the other. And even in that, the edges are constantly forming and reforming. Which is to say: hot (ascribed to yang) and cold (ascribed to yin) appear to be a binary, but one is only fully grasped in comparison to the other (where there is heat, there is not ice, and vice versa) and there is a vast range of temperatures (lukewarm, warm, cool, etc) and associated manifestations between/within each.
The popular yin/yang circular symbol is a perfect representation of this inherent fluidity: while there are clearly borders between the white and the black segments, within each is a piece of the other, demonstrating the constant flowing motion within the two, as each exists within the other as well as in complement to each other. From a clinical perspective, imbalance occurs when there is too much of one overacting on/drawing from the other one, as it is only in relaxed, moving interchange that there can be balance. Coming back to the hot/cold analogy: if there is too much heat, fluids and sometimes other matter will burn up; however, without heat, cold can turn to ice, which leads to rigid stagnation. Both hot and cold are natural and vital; even at their fiery, icy extremes, they exist not in a state of co-dependence, but interdependence. Temperature – as well as other representations of yin and yang – are much like gender itself: subjective, malleable, and ultimately only be definable by the person experiencing it.
Creating a truly inclusive medicine requires reframing not only the way we define terms but the way we directly apply them. There is a cavalier association between yin/female and yang/male which can be limiting at best and hurtfully problematic at worst; the traits that are often culturally ascribed to each are not intrinsically male or female but simply traits that can, do, and should exist within all genders. Masculinity and femininity are far more prismatic and expansive than the binary into which they are too-often forced. One of the things I love, as a practitioner, about East Asian medicine is the deeply rooted awareness of the near-infinite different manifestations of health/disease experienced by the near-infinite different manifestations of bodies. My mentors always encouraged to meet each individual where they are in that moment and to treat what we find, looking toward an understanding of the bigger picture while recognizing that health and disease fluctuates as much as we do, both from person to person and within the same individual across space and time. Queer bodies are policed by western culture in a way that is anathema to my core understanding of yin/yang; taking this reframed, deconstructed approach is to declare and enforce that queerness is not simply welcome within this framework but a foundational part of it.
