2 Reasons Not to Share Your Pronouns
By: Megan Brown
Tags: Mental Health, LGBTQ, Equality, Culture, Society

As a Southerner, if I introduced myself to someone new and told them my pronouns were they/them, they would probably look at me like I had said, “I just flew in from the Moon.”

Wild, considering the existence of the gender-neutral word “y’all,” we use so much down here. Still, the South tends to feel like a place where the only acceptable way to refer to a stranger is “sir” or “ma’am.”

I’m not saying that’s the way it should be, but that’s the way it is here — and many other places around the world.

Those reactions fully justify the existence of a holiday like International Pronouns Day, which occurred earlier this month on October 20th.

Correct pronoun usage is so vital for so many people.

Things are miles from perfect, but society’s acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community has come a long way in the grand scheme of things. The Williams Institute at UCLA released a report showing that 75 percent of the countries polled had increased acceptance of LGBT people since 1981.

Even as being trans or gender non-conforming has become more widely understood and accepted, it’s still commonplace for people to assume someone’s gender identity and pronouns based solely on their appearance.

Being misgendered can be devastating for anyone experiencing gender dysphoria, which is why asking someone’s pronouns is generally thought of as being supportive — as doing the right thing — as lifesaving. And in many circumstances, it is.

Throughout the day on International Pronouns Day, I read so many wonderful, encouraging stories that made my heart soar and brought a happy tear to my eye.

And yet, these stories also made me feel *something* that I couldn’t quite put my finger on for a long time. I finally realized that rather than that *something* being inclusivity, it was the opposite of that — fear and alienation.

Whether or not you ask someone for their pronouns should depend heavily on the context. If you’re in a one-on-one conversation with someone, it’s probably a great idea. In a group setting? Not so much.

While it might seem like the most inclusive thing you can do, introducing yourself with your pronouns and asking for the other person’s pronouns might not have the effect you intended.

The worst part of all is that these days, due to the prevalence of “cancel culture,” you’re bound to garner some side-eyes from some activist circles for refusing to share your pronouns.

Refusal to comply might even cause some to accuse you of being transphobic — even if you’re trans — because they assume you’re cis. I’ve seen it happen.

While the attempt to normalize not assuming anyone’s pronouns is a well-intentioned step in the right direction, it’s important to remember that not everyone will feel comfortable disclosing their pronouns for various realistic and valid reasons.

There are plenty of reasons why someone wouldn’t want to share their pronouns with someone — especially a stranger. And yet, as our world changes, it is becoming more common to feel put on the spot by someone you just met when they ask you, “What are your pronouns?”

But why wouldn’t someone want to disclose their pronouns?

And how can we work together to fix this predicament?

1. Being forced to disclose pronouns can be dangerous for those who aren’t out yet.

Telling the truth can put people at risk for physical and emotional violence.

Trans and nonbinary people experience physical violence at an alarming rate, although it’s nearly impossible to get accurate statistics due to “substantial limitations of available data.”

The world is a dangerous place for people who aren’t cisgender, which explains why so many trans and gender-nonconforming people aren’t fully out. The consequences for coming out or being outed, purposely or inadvertently, can be deadly.

It’s more than just physical violence, though. Upon finding out a person’s pronouns, some people purposely misgender people to be cruel — whether they’re parents, “friends,” or co-workers of those who are trans or gender non-conforming.

Research shows that this act of misgendering from their support system is a betrayal that can lead to self-harm — even suicide. Even more heartbreaking is that the families of many trans and non-binary folks refuse to respect their gender identities and pronouns even in death, frequently misgendering those they claim to love in obituaries and funeral services.

So consider this scenario. Let’s say you’re not out yet. You’re in mixed company composed mostly of strangers and acquaintances. Someone asks for your pronouns in an attempt to be more inclusive and progressive.

You have two options.

You can tell the truth and hope that everyone around accepts trans people and won’t try to harm you or ruin your life somehow. You can lie.

Telling the truth is a risk that could mean losing a lot — possibly everything.

Discrimination based on gender identity is still legal in 23 states here in the US — and 34 percent of the national LGBTQ population lives in those states.

Therefore, despite the Supreme Court’s ruling, in states with at-will employment, you can lose your job for being Trans, NB, Genderfluid, Agender, or otherwise gender non-conforming.

You can lose your shelter, too.

You can even lose your children.

Generally speaking, you can lose all of your most important basic needs in Maslow’s hierarchy.

Realizing all of this, perhaps you might decide it’s in your “best interest” to lie.

Those who aren’t out may feel the need to lie about their pronouns, causing gender dysphoria.

Yikes. Now we’re inadvertently back in the same situation we were trying to avoid by not assuming peoples’ pronouns.

2. Being forced to disclose pronouns can be alienating for some rather than inclusive.

For example, those who are questioning or still figuring out their gender may feel awkward.

I’ve wondered if I might be non-binary since I first heard the term. As a child, and to some extent, as an adult, I’ve always felt like I was never feminine enough to fit in with women but somehow too feminine to fit in with men. I didn’t have the language yet to express this feeling when I was young. I found myself using the word “tomboy” as a badge of honor — even though anyone of any gender can enjoy running barefoot in the yard to catch frogs, grasshoppers, and fireflies.

If I ever was feminine or masculine enough to fit in somewhere, the feeling was always fleeting. Sure, maybe I felt more feminine some days, but would my acceptance be revoked if I didn’t continue performing femininity to conform when I didn’t feel like it? Feelings of confusion and cognitive dissonance about this topic have kept me up at night before.

Sadly, rather than feeling “seen” when I heard about NB folks, I felt even more scared than before. Well, shit, I don’t fit in with the cis folks, but what if I don’t fit with the trans and NB folks either — because I’m not queer enough.

I don’t experience dysphoria. My presentation usually allows me to pass as a cis woman. This experience of staying closeted due to not fitting anywhere is similar to my experience with bisexuality — not straight enough for the straights and not queer enough for the LGBTQ community.

In that way, wrestling with my gender identity on International Pronouns Day reminds me of how I always feel on National Coming Out Day — also in October.

Before publication of this article, I was only officially out as “NB questioning” to two people.

So yeah. Besides living through seven months of a pandemic, October has been a weird month for me. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

I recently watched one of Blair Imani’s “Smarter in Seconds” videos on Instagram on the topic of pronouns.

If you don’t know Blair, you should check her out. She identifies as a queer, black, Muslim historian. I adore her. However, this made me wonder how I would respond if I were ever to meet Blair Imani, and she recited the script she recommends:

“Hi! I’m _______! I use she/her pronouns. What about you?”

Beyond being starstruck by talking to Blair Imani, I wouldn’t know how to respond to her without feeling even more awkward because I’m still struggling with this. Quite simply, I wouldn’t know what to say my pronouns are because I myself don’t even know what they are. I’m working on it. In that work, I’ve discovered that maybe, like my gender itself, my pronouns might change depending on how I feel that day.

Some peoples’ pronouns change day by day.

In my experience, being forced to choose a pronoun and announce it aloud makes me feel just as “boxed in” and diminished as I felt when I thought you had to choose a gender to love — a choice based on a binary system of “one or the other.”

It reminds me of forms that force me to check a box — male or female — with no other option. Usually, given the option, I say, “I prefer not to disclose.”

So what is the solution?

Err on the side of caution and always use gender-neutral pronouns as the default in your speech and writing.

I’ve been practicing this exercise in my writing, which has been exciting for me as I attempt to kick off my writing career.

It’s honestly not hard — people have been using the singular they for centuries — including some of the most famous and beloved writers in literary history.

Don’t believe me? Here is a list of all the times Jane Austen, for example, used the singular they in writing.

My favorite applicable quote from the list is this one from Emma:

“It is very unfair to judge of any body’s conduct, without an intimate knowledge of their situation.”

Still don’t believe me? Well, you just got punked. I used the singular “they” in this article’s first sentence, and I bet you didn’t even notice. Let me reiterate: it isn’t that hard. I promise.

If you accidentally use a gendered pronoun with a stranger or if you accidentally misgender someone whose pronouns you know, correct yourself without making a big production out of it.

The easiest solution of all, though? Skip the pronouns altogether and people by their names when you first meet them.

It’s as easy as introducing yourself to a Kindergartener.