Essay: On Gender
I am so angry and I am so tired. I’m tired of walking into spaces I expect to be the most accepting of my existence, only to have it denied with a casual “she” from the most prominent drag queen in the city. Tired of watching my classmates jump to correct the professor when she misgenders a classmate, only to hear myself misgendered and wait for the correction – and wait – and wait – until the discussion has moved on and I have to admit to myself, “you’re just not trans enough for them.” I am tired of being misgendered by a gaming friend and thinking “well, maybe he’s just not good at they/them pronouns,” and then hearing him a second later smoothly referencing a non-binary character, the pronouns rolling off his tongue so fluidly and so in contrast to my own stuttering attempt at correction. I am tired of being praised for wearing men’s shorts, as though this is some huge step in my transition, when it is nothing more than a facet of how I choose to present myself. I am especially