Second-guessing my gender transition
It’s been nearly a year now since I marched out of the City-County Building in Pittsburgh, flush with a court order, around town to update my identity documents. I fought hard for a new name — and a new gender. The spike heels I’d paired with my red polka-dotted dress would inflict no pain on that 6 mile walk: my mind was focused on the new motor vehicle operator’s license with the coveted “F” gender endorsement, as well as a new Social Security card. But what provided such an obvious and evident goal for me then would become a bit more complicated as time passed and I reflected on it.
In moments of levity, I have joked that my gender is Devo. While I hate hearing folks poke fun at gender-diversity with ludicrous genders, this one has a basis: the punk quintet had a big hit when I was five. It asked, “Are we not men?” For me, that is a succinct summary of my gender: not men.
Ok. Quick! What is the gender of the person in this photo?
We live in a world which is rife with gender assumptions, and those assumptions almost always involve the involuntary assignment of binary gender to uninvolved third parties. It’s certainly the case that cultural norms, especially regarding hair and body type, suggest who is a woman and who is a man. For instance, you probably gendered the subject of this photo without even thinking about it. But unless you know them, it’s still a conclusion you’ve jumped to.
Gender: not just assigned at birth
How many times over the course of your day do you assume the gender of people you encounter? Granted, you’re probably right a majority of the time, but for people fighting the feeling that their existence is being erased, having the wrong gender pushed on them by others is quite painful. That goes for the transgender populace which continue to have the wrong gender applied just as was assigned at birth, but even moreso for non-binary gender folks.
Being able to speak without gendering people is actually a privilege. Some languages, like Hebrew, lack non-binary options. The family of Romance languages have some neutral options, but they are inconsistent. When a language features a grammatical gender, you sometimes have no choice but to assign a gender to the subject of your discussion.
As an Anglophone, I do have the option of not misgendering. As you are reading this, presumably you do, too. It may not be a simple matter to stop referring to uninterested third parties by pronouns you’ve guessed, but the effort would be appreciated, especially when you’re directly addressing us.
This time, it’s personal
I’ve already written previously about about my non-binary gender. Despite my transition from assigned male, and an obviously feminine appearance, I am still frequently addressed with male pronouns. I fought hard for a new name, and recognition of a new gender. But subsequent self-introspection led me back to a truth I had suppressed early in my transition: I did not feel myself to be a binary woman. In my quest to quickly move away from who I clearly was not, I didn’t take the effort to fully understand who I was.
I didn’t take these thoughts lightly. I’d heard reports of other folks in similar straits finding themselves unable to get the endorsements from medical professionals they needed in order that surgical gender confirmation would be available to them. I had as yet no such letter, but resolved to be forthright about my status as I sought one.
Instead of being met with hostility, I was treated as though my consideration was valuable: that I had done my due diligence already, before appearing in front of those empaneled to decide my fate. That day, I left the room and got on a bus to the airport. The letter arrived in my inbox while I was still en route.
This morning, as I write this, I again am on a bus to the airport. Like every day, this one is an opportunity. For my 43rd birthday, today, I opted to surround myself with love, and so I anxiously await my evening plans. But I’m also taking the moment to do something I’ve felt I needed to do for a while: I’m sharing the reality about my gender.
I feel I am not, will never be, and for that matter cannot be, a woman, but I know definitively I am not a man. At least, as binary gender is understood, I am neither. A friend offered the term “closest approximate gender”, and in that regard, woman fits. For many folks, people who do not have or do not wish to grasp the concept of non-binary gender, I hope I will continue to be she and her.
But my truth, my complicated reality is different. And that reality is this: I’m Mx. Daria Phoebe Brashear, and my pronouns are zie and zir: as close to feminine pronouns as I feel comfortable going, while still expressing my non-binary gender identity.
