She/Her Pronouns
I’ve quietly (until now) started using she/her pronouns instead of she/they. Partially due to feeling more ownership of womanhood, and partially for semantics and usability.
Simplification
Obviously, I have deep complex feelings about gender. I’ve put more thought into the topic than 99% of the planet. Not only that, but my gender labels have changed a few times over recent years. The road has had twists and turns, and it likely isn’t at its end yet.
But I don’t want to recite a thesis every time I introduce myself to someone.
Learning: Flexibility Can Be Uncomfortable
I thought it was simpler to allow people to pick any pronouns they wanted for me except he/him (or it, which I consider dehumanizing). Part of the intent for using she/they was to provide flexibility. I used they/them for the first two years after coming out as trans, so I also wanted to allow people to ease into transitioning to she/her as I adopted more femininity.
Instead it confused people.
- It’s difficult for me to use they/them for singular nouns.
- Which do you prefer?
- Should I juggle calling you she or they each about half the time?
So rather than flexibility, I’m focusing on clarity.
Removing They/Them from My Pronouns
Using they/them to refer to me is still fine.
I’ve been using they/them as a gender agnostic pronoun for others for many years. I believe it’s fine to use they/them for anyone if you don’t intend to specify their gender. I view it as a given, so I don’t feel the need to include them in my pronouns anymore.
Individuals may disagree, as with all generalizations. If anyone objects to me using it for them, I do my best to make an exception for that person. But it’s my default, fallback, or respectful anonymization pronoun in practice.
Non-binary Identity
I still feel philosophically non-binary — specifically agender. I don’t want people to treat me differently based on my perceived gender or sex. Projecting my philosophy out to the world, I wish no one was treated substantially differently based on their sex or gender. That’s my brand of intersectional feminism.
That said…
I’m a woman.
Every step of my transition has led me toward more femininity. Each new experiment has resulted in confident yeses. My big commitments, be it HRT, hair removal, or surgery, have left me excited for the next. Despite my expectations, I have zero transition regret. (Yes, I expected to eventually reach a point where I’d want to correct backwards)
When I attended The Dyke March at Pride this year, everyone I interacted with accepted me as a queer woman, and as a lesbian (with wiggle room). Friends and strangers alike included me without hesitation. These are the communities that matter most to me.
I don’t need to wait for other communities or people to own my womanhood. Cis women get gatekept from womanhood all the time, so it’s not really a differentiator for my experience anyway.
Even if I did need validation from some representation of the average human, I’ve been getting it. Strangers call me “sir” less and less, and mostly on the phone (which still sucks). People are catching up to reality. Since finally building the courage to use the women’s restroom, no one has called me out.
Fear
Fear was keeping me from embracing and owning my own brand of womanhood, and recent experience has mostly proven those fears wrong. No one who matters has rejected me because of my pronouns.
Misogyny, transphobia, transmisogyny, and every other variety of bigotry still exist. But those people hated me long before I came out. I was never man enough. I’ve been feminist, anti-racist, and a queer ally for a long time. Racists hate my white ass too. I’ve never been safe from bigots — and neither have you, by the way. I was just a few rungs lower on their kill lists before.
And I’m done living my life dodging fears.