The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
8— Wednesday, February 24, 2021
statement
Full of gender,
free from designation
BY MELANIE TAYLOR, STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT
M
y name is Melanie Renee Tay-
lor, and my pronouns are she/
they. These are your two requi-
site pieces of information needed when ad-
dressing, discussing or otherwise perceiving
me. And as intrinsic as they both are to my
identity, even they aren’t set in stone. Maybe
someday I’ll change my name. It was only
very recently that I adopted new pronouns.
Yet, when I introduce myself as such, it paints
a stagnant picture that allows you to begin to
make evaluations and assumptions about the
person I am.
However, there’s something you may not
have inferred from that introduction: I love
language. I love how it provides an outlet for
explanation and innovation, putting words to
concepts which would otherwise only exist
in the mind. I love the way language ebbs and
flows with the human experience, both influ-
encing and being influenced by the introduc-
tion of new cultural norms. But language, like
all other manifestations of culture, can only
attempt to estimate its nuances and complexi-
ties. One example of this phenomenon can be
found in gendered pronouns.
Studies show that Gen Z has the largest
proportion of publicly queer-identifying peo-
ple of any generation to date. Over the past
few years, and particularly during the lock-
downs, young people across the country have
convened with their peers and taken to social
media, mulling over exactly what kinds of
gender identity fit them. Along with that ex-
ploration comes a logistical debate over how
our language can adapt to these newly emerg-
ing demographics.
Gendered pronouns are often inconve-
nient. They imbue gender identity with for-
mality and rigidity where it’s not always natu-
ral. We have to put our identity in a box as a
function of our language. Gendered pronouns
are also a great source for enforcement of the
existing patriarchal status quo, exacerbating
certain stigmas against those who can’t or
won’t conform.
Many widely-used languages — includ-
ing Korean, Afrikaans and more — function
without gendered pronouns as they exist in
English. And for many of the languages that
treat pronouns like English does, activists
across the world are working toward increas-
ing the use of gender-neutral language in their
respective cultures and countries. Some have
argued that the solution lies in transitioning
to gender-neutral language entirely. But in my
experience, acceptance and normalization of
gender neutrality is not always the answer.
Many people find empowerment in gen-
dered pronouns. It can be very affirming for
someone who transitioned from male to fe-
male or vice versa to “pass” as their desired
binary gender, and when they are “misgen-
dered” — either through use of the opposite
binary pronouns or through a reductionist
use of they/them — that constitutes a micro-
aggression. The way I see it, ubiquitous use of
agender pronouns is comparable to attempt-
ing a “colorblind” approach to race; it’s tone
deaf and ignores all of the intricacies that gen-
der identity has to offer.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place,
gender identity continues to be muddled and
misunderstood. Perhaps the only thing we
can really do is stop taking it so seriously.
***
We’ve established that the nuances of gen-
der cannot be described through a catalog of
identity monikers. Gender encompasses emo-
tion, expression, personality, perspective. In a
recent Tiktok trend, creators emphasized this
complexity by attempting to describe their
gender by likening it to some object or experi-
ence.
In keeping with the trend, LSA junior Syd
Lio Riley (they/them) said in a phone inter-
view with The Daily that they’d describe
their gender as “when an LSA freshman tells
you their major, and it’s like, ‘Maybe that’s it,
but probably not.’ And it’s too
soon for anybody to actually
tell.”
Riley — who often uses he/
him pronouns as well — also
compared their gender to
Bernie Sanders’ tumultuous
political orientation.
“I am a man in the same
way that Bernie Sanders is a
communist,” Riley said. “Like
I’m definitely not, but I’m
close enough to let you think
that. And the more removed
from gender and transness
that you get, the more likely
that you are to assume me of
being (a man).”
Riley said that in this sense,
their identity is often least un-
derstood by cisgender people
who haven’t had to grapple
with any inaccuracies pro-
duced by a binary conception
of gender. Thus, it is more
difficult for cisgender people
to understand the nuances of
Riley’s identity.
Art & Design junior Xochi
Sanchez (she/her) — who in
a phone interview with The
Daily described her gender
as “a raccoon that you’ve be-
friended” — believes that it’s
“intuitive” for queer people
to understand the nuances of
their peers’ gender whereas
cisgender people may not.
Without an organic introduc-
tion to gender politics, such as
the lived experience of ques-
tioning your own gender, it
becomes much more difficult
to empathize with what that
looks like for another person.
“I think I’m lucky,” Sanchez said. “Nearly
every person I’m friends with is trans and/or
nonbinary, so they just all know.”
For LSA junior Parker Kherig (ze/hir),
confusing people with hir gender is half
the fun of it. Kherig, whose self-described
gender is “the bundt cake from ‘My Big Fat
Greek Wedding’ with the little flower in it,”
said in a phone interview with The Daily
that ze find joy in subverting gender expec-
tations.
“I feel like (spite) really colors my gen-
der,” Kherig said. “Because so much of my
gender expression is just, ‘How f---ing con-
fusing can I look? How absolutely perplex-
ing can I present myself to the world?’”
Kherig said hir first experience question-
ing hir gender happened at a very young
age. One night when Kherig was in elemen-
tary school, ze were intrigued by something
happening on hir block and attempted to go
out to investigate in hir pajamas. Ze made
it down the stairs only to be stopped at the
door by hir father.
“He was like, ‘You can’t go outside in
that,’” Kherig said, “Because it says some-
thing about my morals if me — a seven-year-
old — went outside in my pink princess
Barbie nightgown. And that was the point
where I was like, ‘What is this bullshit?’”
For Riley, that realization surfaced a bit
later in life. Riley began to wonder about
their gender when they were in high school
because they had been dating someone who
identified as gender fluid. At first, Riley
said, it was difficult to understand.
“I never felt like I fit into that expecta-
tion of what gender fluidity was supposed
to be,” Riley said. “But as soon as I kind of
unlearned the idea of gender needing to
look any particular way, I started identify-
ing as nonbinary.”
Sanchez also took to questioning her
gender identity late in high school, but it
wasn’t really until two years later when she
transferred to the University of Michigan
that Sanchez started feeling comfortable
in her identity. She met a group of queer
people also in the School of Art & Design
and habitually attended the school’s events
hosted by trans artists whom she showed
her work to and solicited advice from.
“That ended up being the breaking point
where it was like, ‘You know what, it’s been
over two years,’” Sanchez said. “I need to
actually get this out in the open and start
working on it.”
It was then that Sanchez started coming
out to her family and others “in little bits.”
And that’s the thing about coming out — it’s
not some one-and-done task that can be ac-
complished in a single, swift motion.
Contrary to how it may seem in film or
television, coming out is a long and labori-
ous process that never really ends. So long
as they continue to have new life experienc-
es and expand their group of friends and ac-
quaintances, queer people will always have
someone else they need to come out to.
F
or example, I attend upwards of 10
Zoom meetings every week. Because
my account, like most students, is
hosted by the University, I am unable to per-
manently alter my name on the platform.
That means that if I want it to list my pro-
nouns next to my name, I have to manually
go in and make that change every single time
I enter a Zoom call. When you have to come
out once every two hours, it starts to get ex-
hausting.
“It’s become such a formal way of des-
ignating not only what gender are you, but
who in the space is trans,” Riley said. “And
I have to choose then what pronouns I put
next to my name — if I do at all — and then as
soon as I do, what statement does that make
about who I am in that space?”
Riley goes on to note an added compli-
cation: Our identities aren’t static. Not only
do they evolve over the course of our lives,
but they also switch from context to context.
Sometimes we may choose not to update the
pronouns in our name because in that par-
ticular setting, expressing one’s nonbinary
identity doesn’t feel safe or welcome.
Kherig described this code-switching as a
defense mechanism used by queer people in
situations where they may not feel safe ex-
pressing their whole or truest identity.
“I think there are plenty of times where
the real thing, the big thing, the beautiful
thing is just too much for people,” Kherig
said. “So there are definitely ways that I have
learned to make myself smaller, to protect
myself in certain spaces. And I think that’s
something that most people have to do.”
Kherig also noted a sense of shame preva-
lent in the queer community which arises
when someone simplifies themselves to con-
form in unsafe situations. To Kherig, that
shame is neither fair nor necessary.
“We have to make ourselves smaller for
other people to protect ourselves,” Kherig
said. “And you should never feel ashamed
of that. Because you are preserving yourself,
you’re preserving your peace. And you de-
serve to survive.”
Riley said that it is difficult for a third par-
ty to ever be fully cued into a nonbinary or
trans peer’s entire gender identity.
“One thing that would be really useful
for non-trans and cis folks to understand
is that they will never be able to fully get it
right,” Riley said. “And I think that’s a really
hard thing for people to sit with, especially if
you’re a person who cares about other peo-
ple and affirms other people.”
There are so many factors influencing
how a person’s gender manifests at any given
moment that it’s not feasible to evaluate it all
from a distance.
ILLUSTRATION BY MAGGIE WIEBE
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