“Being referred to by the wrong pronoun is a strange sensation… one that's hard to describe if you've never experienced it. It's somewhere between hearing a loud, squawking wrong note played by a saxophone, and being punched in the gut. Every single time someone says 'she' when referring to me within my earshot, I notice it, like it's been bolded or written in red ink against the regular black typeface of the rest of the conversation.” - Johnny Blazes

My name is Petey, and growing up I was always “she.” I was born a sweet little blonde girl, full of light and curiosity, a nurturing eldest child to my siblings. I loved Anne of Green Gables and singing at the top of my lungs. Most of these things about me are still intrinsically true, especially the part about Anne. (Oh, sweet Anne.) But something that rings less and less true for me is that pronoun, “she.”

Pronouns are a funny business. We use them constantly, effortlessly — “I read that book and it was delightful” or “Grandma babysat the Dingles and they made her cry!” But WHAT IF the way that we label people doesn’t fit the way they label themselves?

It’s actually a pretty cool idea to think about — the way we see ourselves vs. the way the world sees us. I think this happens all the time to every type of person, every day. I mean, you could paint something rad in art class one day, and no one knows what to do with that information because you’re the captain of the lacrosse team, and they’ve never seen you paint a thing in your dang life. They’ve categorized you into being one thing in their minds, but every human being is so complex, so full of a million little things that they do, or are, or feel.

It can feel strange to have that pushback from the people around you when you’re thinking, “But I’ve always been a good artist — and I like it! What does that have to do with being a beast at sports, too?”

That’s how I feel about my gender identity. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not one or the other. A few years back, I heard a couple of friends of mine in the queer community using the pronoun “they” to describe themselves. At first, I had a hard time wrapping my brain around the singular "they" — I was an English major for crying out loud! — but then it clicked for me how actually beautiful the singular “they” is, and how utterly encompassing it is for their gender, and for mine, how inclusive of all parts of me it is.

So when I’m close to someone, or I get asked by someone what pronoun I use, lately I say “they/them”. I still use she/her, though mostly just with my family, and I sometimes use he/him, which I also really like, mostly with close friends or camp buddies or my dog. Not everyone is as flexible as I am though, and who’s to say how flexible my pronouns will continue to be in the future? I’m a constantly changing human being, as we all are (thank goodness).

My point is, pronouns are important. And an incredibly easy way to reflect back to someone that you see them, and you trust them to know who they are, is by using the pronouns they ask you to use. I taught over the summer at a leadership camp for LGBTQ+ youth called Brave Trails, and I met this amazing co-counselor named Jaq, a dancer and educator out of Oakland.