by: Khai Devon

I prefer gender-neutral pronouns. Gender-neutral pronouns are my preference.  Please use gender-neutral pronouns when you are referring to me in the third person. I’m not a she. I practice the words in front of the mirror, forcing them out shyly at first, a mere mumble even though it’s just me, myself and I, all of whom I know are completely okay with my genderqueer identity. As I repeat them, they come faster, stronger, louder, the confidence building with every time I form the words. Please use gender-neutral pronouns to refer to me.

And yet, when someone asks me, “What pronouns do you prefer?” I still shrink away from answering as firmly as I feel. “Oh, I prefer gender-neutrals,” I say, “but not enough to actually insist on it.” I use an equal mix of male, female, and neutral pronouns to refer to myself, I explain, leaving out the tidbit where I only use female pronouns to refer to myself in jest, or when I’m around my biological family. I sit silently, or I make it a joke, when people refer to me as a woman. A customer demands a male technician, and I bitch about how I can’t reveal my trans status. It’s funny, but it’s also, a little, maybe, true.

And there are those few who see me as I am. Who respect my pronoun preference. It becomes easier and easier to say that I prefer gender neutrals, and explain what that means. I learn to like “they,” and I make it my own. A friend finds a code that allows me to make my Facebook gender-neutral. It works, until Facebook forces me into a timeline. I begin writing blogs, finding queer community on the internet, testing my ability to explain and to sum up. More people begin making an effort to learn how to use pronouns they’ve never been introduced to before. I feel loved, my confidence grows. I discover that masculine pronouns are good, though not the best. They are an acceptable second choice.

And then the community I was starting to find, crumbles. The person who helped me figure out what it meant to present comfortably informs me I’m not really trans, because I don’t pack and have no need or desire to have a penis. A boss tells me I’m not allowed to “dress like a boy” at work. Another tells me I’m not allowed to be open about my gender, compounding this by making his disdain for women very clear at the same time. The person I’m head over heels for tells me I’m a girl no matter what labels I use.

Back to the mirror. Back to the phrases. Back to the drawing board. Back to the coast, where I settle in and, after seven months in queer-friendly environments, still feel like sawdust coats my throat as I pretend I’m super casually correcting someone’s pronouns. “Oh c’mon now,” I say, “he didn’t get beat by a girl—he got beat by me.” Everyone laughs.

Later, I speak to a trans friend of mine who informs me that respecting my identity is just too complicated. Instead of shrinking away quietly and in pain, I find my voice. I am angry. I have a right to be. I begin writing again, blogging. And, I request proper pronouns. “Well…yeah. That’s… kinda what I use” says the girl I’d been expecting resistance from. “Do you mind if I use male pronouns?” says a boy I work with, “because I get tongue tied trying to figure out the ze conjugations.” I give him permission, but tell him if I hear feminine pronouns I’ll correct him. He asks me to please do so.

Later, someone else refers to me as a pretty girl. It’s okay to smile and tell them I’m not a girl and it makes me feel uncomfortable to be referred to as pretty, I tell myself. In my head, I scream it. Outside, I flash a smile and modulate my voice. “Please,” I say, “I’m not a girl. How long have I worked here? How long have you known me?” I wonder if this is an HR nightmare waiting to happen.

Then, I reason that if my life has to be a nightmare about navigating a minefield, HR can have a headache figuring out what to do with me. Then, I feel cocky and unsure of whether or not I can ask these things. Can I inconvenience someone else because I want my identity respected?

Then again—

I prefer gender-neutral pronouns. Gender-neutral pronouns are my preference.  Please use gender-neutral pronouns when you are referring to me in the third person. I’m not a she. I practice the words in front of the mirror, forcing them out shyly at first, a mere mumble even though it’s just me, myself and I, all of whom I know are completely okay with my genderqueer identity. As I repeat them, they come faster, stronger, louder, the confidence building with every time I form the words. Please use gender-neutral pronouns to refer to me.

Khai Devon is a ze. They are learning to let themselves be a human being, rather than a human doing. They work customer service and snark about their clients, and pour their heart out at duffelbagandadream.wordpress.com when they have time to sit down at their computer, rather than checking into facebook from their phone. They have no idea how to date, but are having fun learning, they think. And mostly, they love people. Khai has published one book of poetry, which you can purchase from the back shelves of Amazon.com, and plans to publish at least one more before they turn 25.