I’m On A Gender Bender

I don’t know if it’s because I teach at a high school in the city, or if it’s because I teach at a high school in the city that specializes in Arts education, or if it’s because I teach a bunch of Zoomers at a high school in the city that specializes in Arts education*, but damn, these kids are with it when it comes to a lot of topics — but especially when it comes to the topic of gender expression and sexual orientation. It’s not just okay to be gay here; it’s welcomed and supported and, if possible, accepted as just a normal piece of the fabric that is our beautiful, complex, mutable identities as humans in this big, bad, beautiful world of consciousness.

But, like, it’s not just okay to be gay. It’s okay to be anything on or adjacent to that long and never-ending spectrum. In fact, the term gay takes on a whole new meaning when people, especially kids, feel as though they can claim it, and safely. Gay is not a derogatory adjective here, in this building or with this generation**. It is more an adjective that can, if need be, sum up a deeply rooted feeling or describe a passing whim, much like the word queer: a word that is open to interpretation, open to experimentation, open to anyone using it in the way that makes the most sense for them.

When I was in high school, only just a little more than a decade ago, in rural-suburban Pennsylvania, gay or queer weren’t any of the things I needed them most to be. Not exhilarating, not acceptable, not accessible, not beautiful. Identifying as queer definitely wasn’t safe. It meant shame — shame and fear and resentment and hate. It meant hiding.

Lots of factors went into my experience as such: small, conservative town; religious family; lack of representation; cultural cues from the early aughts onward; etc., etc. Also the fact that I just didn’t tell anyone. In truth, I was still figuring a lot of stuff out and couldn’t really tell anyone anything because I myself didn’t really know. When a friend asked me, very genuinely, whether I was a lesbian before one of our 10th grade gym classes, I vehemently denied it***. Even on a subconscious level, here was a question I didn’t want to approach — so much so that it was a question that I didn’t even allow to exist.

I wouldn’t officially**** come out until college, and not until my last year of college at that. I marvel at my students now, how easily they wear their labels yet refuse to be defined or reduced by them. It can be quickly argued that the world is going to shit, but I do see progress happening even if it’s not scalable to other high schools, other cities. I see progress when so many students not only want to explore their identities, but are encouraged by their peers and the establishment to do so.

On the first day of class with the Juniors, I played an ice-breaker with them because I was essentially meeting them for the first time. Before they shared their responses*****, I also asked them to state their names. But before I could even finish the sentence, one student shot up her hand and asked if they could share preferred pronouns as well. I stumbled a bit in response, not because I was offended or unsure — quite the opposite. I stumbled because I was taken aback, but in the best possible way. “Of course!” I said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. And we went around the room, sharing our responses, our names, and our pronouns.

Even me, because my students will never miss an opportunity to find out something about my personal life. “What about you, Ms. M?” they asked.

Without thinking, I replied: “She/her and I guess they/them. Either works for me.” Then we moved on, no big deal.

But, this was essentially the first time I’d publicly announced my pronouns as such. To be honest — much like my high-school-aged self had been with the whole lesbian question — I’m still trying to figure it all out. Even taking into account my uncanny likeness to nonbinary comedian, Mae Martin******, I still don’t know what they/them means to me. Me as in, specifically just me. And if I ever do end up figuring that out, I don’t know if the meaning will change, transform, grow, evolve as I keep doing the same. And maybe it’s not even a question of if, but how and when.

I feel, sometimes, as though I’m caught on the edge of a threshold, one foot on each side. Or a state of being that can best be described as liminal and exhausting, but also liberating and exciting. Other times, I don’t really care one way or the other. I rip up any and all labels as they apply to me and watch them scatter on the wind. I want to be, and not be. I want to fit in, I can’t possibly fit in. I want to swim topless and for that to be normal and okay without the requirement of removing my breasts. I want smaller breasts or no breasts at all! I like my breasts as they are! Why can’t I just have it all, all at the same time?

For me, right now, maybe my gender can best be described thus: I’m swimming, and I’m naked, and I’m beautiful, and nobody gives me a second thought. I’ll let you know if (or how or when) that changes.

Notes:

*It’s most likely some beautiful combination of all of these things.

**Okay, I can’t speak for all of Gen Z, but on anecdotal evidence alone I feel pretty confident in this statement.

***Well, technically speaking, can you deny something that you yourself believe to be untrue?

****Can you believe I made it my Facebook status on Coming Out Day? Me neither.

*****We played Two Truths, One Lie or as I like to call it: Two Nonfictions, One Fiction.

******I’m the Wish version.