What Does It Mean to Be Two-Spirit?

As a Two-Spirit person, there are fewer things that bring me more euphoria than knowing my existence — our existence — proves that queerness and gender variance have always been Indigenous.

Though words like “trans” and “queer” are identifiers that feel fine to me, Two-Spirit speaks to my very essence and goes deeper than just my gender identity or sexuality. Rather than describing one specific “Two-Spirit gender,” the phrase encompasses the various traditional gender roles beyond “man” and “woman” that have existed in various Native communities for centuries. Prior to colonization, Two-Spirit people often held positions of great importance within our communities, sometimes as healers, spiritual leaders, or other revered roles.

Though colonizers tried to stamp us out by targeting, criminalizing, and killing our ancestors, Two-Spirit organizers have been resisting and maintaining sacred traditions for centuries. Two-Spirit people across Turtle Island (North America), Abya Yala (South America), and beyond are now carving out new ways to protect the land and people who have lived on it for over a millennium. To learn more about this term of Indigiqueer empowerment and resistance, read on.

What does Two-Spirit mean?

While gender variant people have always existed, the use of the term “Two-Spirit'' itself to describe these Indigenous gender identities is relatively new. In 1990, Cree organizer Myra Laramee coined the term as an umbrella term for gender variant Indigenous folks across Turtle Island. Laramee derived the phrase from the Anishnaabemowin term “niizh manidoowag,” which directly translates to “two spirits.”

Initially, Two-Spirit only referred to gender variant Indigenous people across North America. In the decades since it was popularized, the use of Two-Spirit, also referred to as 2Spirit and 2S, has flourished well beyond Turtle Island as Native activists in Pacifika and Abya Yala push back on colonial borders limiting Indigenous gender identities. It’s important to note that while Two-Spirit is an umbrella term for various identities, it is ultimately a Pan-Indian term, meaning it exclusively refers to Indigenous people. Some Two-Spirit people may also be nonbinary, trans, or queer, but none of these identities are synonymous with Two-Spirit. From Zapotec Muxe to Native Hawaiian Māhū to Diné Nádleehi, Two-Spirit specifically encompasses Indigenous genders with crucial and often ceremonial roles within their communities, not just gender or sexuality.

Yet throughout history, colonial powers have sought to strip Native communities of their traditions and language, and Two-Spirit traditions are no different. Injustices like the U.S. government’s Indian boarding schools deprived thousands of Native children of inherited knowledge about their own people, including the history and customs of Two-Spirit people. This means many Two-Spirits have had to relearn customs or rebuild them in new and imaginative ways for their communities. Through art, language revitalization, and by unearthing centuries old practices, 2S people are fighting to regain and maintain knowledge of what it means to be Two-Spirit in their communities.

Each Indigenous community is different, so every Two-Spirit person’s conception of their identity is different. That’s why it's important to listen to Two-Spirit folks about our individual experiences. Below, we’ve asked five Two-Spirit people to speak on their experiences and relationship to the term.

Sergío Papa Ruark is a Two-Spirit dancer, performer, and academic of Quechua descent from Ancash, Peru. Ruark initially didn’t feel comfortable using the term Two-Spirit to refer to himself, as elders in Indigenous spaces had told him only LGBTQ+ Natives from Turtle Island could use the term. As he spent more time at Indigiqueer community gatherings like the Montana Two-Spirit Gathering, however, this sentiment changed.

“I didn't want to seem like I was appropriating a term or identity that was not mine,” Ruark tells Them. “At my first Two-Spirit Gathering in Montana, the director of the Society asked me, ‘What is the Two-Spirit culture in your country?’ That is when I started my own research and healing journey. The following year, I returned and shared what I had found, thanks to my family and community. They started calling me Two-Spirit. I shared my concerns with mentors and Elders, and they told me I was one of them now.”

Ruark was crowned Mr. Montana Two-Spirit at the same gathering in 2022, and continues to embrace his Two-Spirit pride. As a Southern Native person from Abya Yala, Ruark raises awareness about his culture and community through performance and art.

“Since I started expressing myself as Two-Spirit and Indiqueer, I started being just me,” he says. “I can wear my Andean skirts — polleras y sayas — with pride and educate my own people that at one point in time before the colonization, men wore dresses and looked androgynous and were respected and furious warriors in their Ayllus (communities). I can express my feminine and masculine sides in my dance and performances and honor my relatives who couldn't do it.”

To Haley Rebecca Robinson, a Plains Cree and Filipinx queer content creator and model, being Two-Spirit means embodying both their masculine and feminine energy. Robinson tells Them they discovered Two-Spirit identity and community on Native TikTok, following other Indigiqueer creators like Kairyn Potts and Scott Wabano. Robinson says the chosen family they’ve made through TikTok has allowed them to embrace their Two-Spirit joy and euphoria.

“That means being in a room surrounded by other Two-Spirit folk, celebrating us and our skills, and making long lasting friendships,” Robinson tells Them. “Also being able to see Two-Spirit beings represented in the media online and on the big screen.”

Much of their content now centers on connecting with their heritage as a member of the Muskeg Lake Cree Nation and being Two-Spirit. You can follow them on TikTok and Instagram.

Tony Enos wasn’t raised in his Cherokee culture due to his family’s displacement and trauma through colonization. When he came into his Indigenous community over a decade ago, Enos says he learned that his experience isn’t uncommon among Indigenous people raised in cities. But Enos came into his Two-Spirit identity under the careful guidance of his elders.

“Being blessed with amazing elders who called me home taught me what being Two-Spirit is, and that I had a place and a role to fulfill in the sacred hoop,” Enos tells Them.

For Enos, his work as a singer, songwriter, and performer help ground him in his duty to his community. Enos says being Two-Spirit for him is all about representing balance.

“I'm very much ‘male’ presenting in physical appearance when you look at me, but inside of me is a Mother, and a maternal energy, and for me, that's the intersection where my Two-Spirit identity lives,” Enos says. “As it's been taught to me, as Two-Spirits we were and still are balance keepers. The in-betweens that maintain and keep all things moving forward.”

María Aranibar Landeo says that as an immigrant of Quechua, Black, and Spanish descent, their journey to accessing their Two-Spirit heritage wasn’t easy. Because the few resources there are on Indigenous gender variance tend to focus on Turtle Island, understanding their Two-Spirit role in the context of their Andean community was challenging.

“It was honestly very complicated. For a while I thought I couldn't identify as Two-Spirit, as I didn't have any resources or guidance on what it truly meant,” Landeo tells Them. “Early on in my reconnection journey with my indigeneity I felt as if I was not ready to explore what Two-Spirit meant to me.”

After having long conversations with themself about their Indigeneity and being in community with other queer Natives, they felt at peace with their Two-Spiritness. For Landeo, being Two-Spirit means that “my body goes beyond the gender binaries and, in a way, is genderless because I connect with feminine and masculine energies equally.”

Because reconnection can be so difficult for displaced and detribalized Native people, Landeo tells Them they have a few pieces of advice for queer Indigenous youth trying to find themselves. “There is no right way to really come to terms with being Two-Spirit,” Landeo says. “There is no right way to reconnect as a detribalized and displaced Native person. it is all about unlearning and learning, doing your own reading and asking yourself those difficult questions.”

Wari singer, poet, and model Bobby Sanchez is known for her viral Indigenous anthem, “Quechua 101 Land Back Please.” But long before she was performing her song of resistance at powwows and music festivals across Turtle Island, Sanchez was introduced to Two-Spirit people, she tells Them. While Sanchez began attending powwows in the New York City area when she was just four, it was when she saw a Two-Spirit person from Hawaiʻi in her teens that truly transformed her view of gender within Indigenous spaces. Now she gets to meet Two-Spirit people from all over the world during her performances.

“It’s always great to meet other Two-Spirit individuals from other Indigenous nations, no matter what part of the world they’re from,” Sanchez says. “I feel like we understand our sacred roles in our communities.

As a Wari (Quechua) performer, Sanchez tells Them the term Two-Spirit particularly resonates with her because it encompasses a wide range of Indigenous gender variance, including Qariwarmi people, a pre-colonial Quechua gender role that roughly translates to “man-woman.” In Tawantinsuyu, the Inca Empire, Qariwarmis were sacred healers revered by their ayllu (communities).

Yet “it’s deeper than that to me,” Sanchez says. “I feel like Qariwarmi translates to Two-Spirit because Two-Spirit is obviously an umbrella term that covers all of these Indigenous languages.”

“Two-Spirit encapsulates more of our Indigenous philosophies — understanding the balance of women and men, the power we both hold, and the balance of those sacred energies,” she says.

Get the best of what’s queer. Sign up for Them’s weekly newsletter here.