Self-Defining Moments
When I was just entering college, I stumbled upon an article in the New York Times discussing people who identified as genderqueer and used the alternative pronoun set ze and hir. I had been identifying that way myself for almost a year. Seeing it in print in a national newspaper gave me a level of validation. Every time I try to explain it though, it’s a practice people tend to find incredibly confusing.
When I first realized that my-birth assigned gender and biological body did not have to dictate my actual gender, I had to ask myself, what does? I’d heard that gender was supposed to be based on how you feel, but having been raised to believe that gender was inconsequential, I never had any strong feelings of being one gender or another. I knew what I felt, but I didn’t know what gender my feelings represented.
Liking embroidery didn’t mean I had to be a girl. Disliking makeup didn’t mean I couldn’t. There are as many differences among men and among women as there are differences between them. Yet it seems that at a certain point, one goes from being atypical for one’s gender to not being that gender. Not feeling like a woman is a different experience from feeling like a man. In examining those differences, you can begin to see the variety of gender options available to people.
There is very little language to describe all of these in-between or outside gender experiences. I could list off some of the terms people have come up with to describe the gender lenses through which they view the world—boi-dyke, gendertrash, freak, sissy, non-gendered, genderqueer, bi-gender, etc.—but unless you already have a sense of what those phrases mean it won’t communicate very much.
Living a non-binary gender in a society that is intensely invested in gender binaries can be difficult. Even when looking directly at someone with a non-binary gender, most people will decide the person they are looking at is a short-haired woman with facial hair, or a man with breasts wearing fishnets, rather than someone who is neither or both. Alternative pronouns, like ze/hir, are a way to combat that invisibility and collective denial. It’s a way of announcing to the world, “I exist.”
When I first realized that my-birth assigned gender and biological body did not have to dictate my actual gender, I had to ask myself, what does? I’d heard that gender was supposed to be based on how you feel, but having been raised to believe that gender was inconsequential, I never had any strong feelings of being one gender or another. I knew what I felt, but I didn’t know what gender my feelings represented.
Liking embroidery didn’t mean I had to be a girl. Disliking makeup didn’t mean I couldn’t. There are as many differences among men and among women as there are differences between them. Yet it seems that at a certain point, one goes from being atypical for one’s gender to not being that gender. Not feeling like a woman is a different experience from feeling like a man. In examining those differences, you can begin to see the variety of gender options available to people.
There is very little language to describe all of these in-between or outside gender experiences. I could list off some of the terms people have come up with to describe the gender lenses through which they view the world—boi-dyke, gendertrash, freak, sissy, non-gendered, genderqueer, bi-gender, etc.—but unless you already have a sense of what those phrases mean it won’t communicate very much.
Living a non-binary gender in a society that is intensely invested in gender binaries can be difficult. Even when looking directly at someone with a non-binary gender, most people will decide the person they are looking at is a short-haired woman with facial hair, or a man with breasts wearing fishnets, rather than someone who is neither or both. Alternative pronouns, like ze/hir, are a way to combat that invisibility and collective denial. It’s a way of announcing to the world, “I exist.”
I also know a couple trans folks who use their names, rather than pronouns.
"Jesse and I went to the store with Jesse's girlfriend. I bought Jesse some new pants."
...the only time it gets a little complicated is in the reflexive pronoun-- "Jesse bought Jesseself a shirt" just doesn't flow quite right.
(also, great article!)
I remember tackling the use of "they/their" in college. People insisted that those words could only be used for the plural, yet I knew from reading older literature that there was a long-established use of the term as a neuter single. Finally I came across a textbook where the author used "they/their" in the singular and even included a note of explanation at the beginning. That author was trying to avoid singling out a particular gender and also to avoid the clunky "he/she" "him/her." At that point, considering people who themselves weren't certain what gender (if any) they were wasn't part of the conversation, but a widespread return to "they/their" would probably be the most diplomatic way for the English language to go. It's already established, so as not to ruffle too many feathers, yet it prevents you from stepping on toes in almost any context. Though, I must say, if a friend of mine asked me to use an alternative, I would.
Great and interesting article, really! Thanks!