Busted

I really do not want to write this post. I do not want to be this honest with you, dear reader. It pains me to do so, because I have to admit my own failure, and I do not want to. But if I cannot own my failures, how can I challenge you to do so?

While conversing with a cisgender friend yesterday we got talking about a mutual transgender friend whom I was going to see that evening. In referring to this transgender friend, I misgendered her.

Yes, you read that correctly. I, who had suffered the pain of being misgendered just two days earlier, committed the same mistake myself.

I immediately caught my error and corrected it to my cisgender friend (who had also caught my error and was aware of my situation earlier in the week.) I couldn’t ignore or avoid it, but I was so embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I KNOW better. I KNOW the pain of being misgendered. I KNOW how it leaves you feeling. How could I, of all people, do the same to another person?

Because I’m human dear friends. And I have been socially conditioned just as the rest of you. My neural pathways regarding gender identity and gender expression were formed in an environment that does not recognize gender diversity. At times my brain chooses to travel those well-worn pathways rather than the new ones I’ve worked hard to form, and I screw up. It takes conscious effort to choose to affirm someone for who they are, and I am not exempt from that.

If you’re inclined to think that this excuses you from misgendering people, that would be a false conclusion. It should, in fact, help you realize how much effort must be put into consciously changing our thinking and our speech. If it doesn’t come naturally to me, who knows personally how much it hurts to be misgendered, it probably won’t come more naturally to you. This may not be true for some in the younger generations who have understood gender differently from the outset, but it certainly is true for most people thirty and older.

Perhaps you think this is a whole lot of fuss over simple pronouns. Why does it matter really?

It matters because recognizing someone for who they are, not who you think they should be, affirms their humanity. It affirms their worth and their dignity. It’s actually quite fundamental, really. By using someone’s correct name and referring to them with the pronouns they use, you are recognizing their inherent identity. If you are white and cisgender, this may be difficult to understand because you are probably, for the most part, used to being treated with a certain degree of respect (varying somewhat based on class and other distinctions, which are real issues as well). When you come from a minority group, you’re much more conscious of the lack of respect those in the majority give you. How we use language speaks volumes about how we perceive other people and the world in which we live.

Some may want to get into linguistic arguments, such as over the appropriateness of the pronoun forms of “they” to refer to the singular. As a linguist by training, without going to an extensive discussion of the history and usage of “they/them/their,” I would say simply, we can change the way we understand and use language. Language changes all the time. You can resist it because you don’t want to acknowledge the change, but you can’t say the change is “wrong.” In this case a relatively simple change to standard usage can affirm the core identity of an individual. I think that’s a small sacrifice to make.

When I was still living the role of a white, cisgender male, I arrogantly asserted that the pronouns “he/him/his” are the only proper ones to use when referring to a person of non-specified gender. I didn’t think about how doing so effectively erased the large portion of humanity (well, at least that portion which speaks English) who identify as female, as well as those who identify as something other than male or female. Wow, I was so ignorant at that time. I couldn’t see that the privilege I inherited as someone whom society perceived as male skewed my entire perspective. Language profoundly affects how we perceive others and we must consciously think about how we use our words.

I’d like to think that I’ll never misgender another person again. Unfortunately, I probably will. I’m still retraining my own thinking. As I do so, I need to acknowledge and own my errors, apologizing and not hiding behind my embarrassment. I hope you will as well. Together we can use our words to affirm and empower others.