They, Then and Now

Identifying as nonbinary once felt punk: I'm not playing your game. But now all we do is talk about my pronouns.

- By Brock Colyar

If you met me, you'd probably ask what pronouns I use. You'd ask me because my gender identity is not that clear-to you, at least. I wear light makeup and paint my nails and, depending on the occasion, might be in a slip dress with a kitten heel. And yet, if you heard me speak, you'd probably assume (correctly) that I was assigned male at birth (AMAB, in the current jargon; I was also, of course, assigned the name Brock). You might assume, based in part on my voice and disposition, that I date and sleep with men, like a gay man (also correct). And so you'd ask what pronouns I use because it's considered the polite thing to do now-an accepted part of our perilous new social-justice social contract-and you don't want to offend me with your ignorance and you do want to flatter yourself with your deft ally-ness, all the while probably thinking, especially if you're over 30, Oh goodness, the world so different now.

And I'd politely respond, They/them is fine, with a smile. Maybe a somewhat forced smile, because I've come to dread this whole interaction. If I'm feeling game, I might even ask for your pronouns, though chances are, unless perhaps you're my age or younger-I'm 24-they will be exactly what I'd expect. By the end of the ten-word exchange, I'd be a little exhausted and you'd be a little on edge. And if I had to guess, you'd still probably fuck up my pronouns the next time you use them. You almost certainly would when I'm not standing right in front of you.