One Year of Gender Neutral Parenting

This past week marked one year since I publicly announced that Tyler and I were going to raise Finian with they/them pronouns, never assigning a gender to them or forcing gender roles or expectations on them. One year later, I stand by this decision completely, even though we’ve met a lot of aggressive and negative feedback.

To be perfectly honest, I foresaw this negativity from the very beginning, and it scared me.

It was Tyler who brought it up to me first, saying they wanted to raise the baby gender neutral, allowing them to choose their pronouns and expression when they understood their own identity--instead of the norm of guessing based on genitals and amending if need be later. I never hesitated in believing that Tyler was right, that this is what would be best for our child.

But I did hesitate to agree to do it.

Why? Because I am a coward, and I hate when I feel like the world is against me. I hate confrontation. I hate fighting. When someone is mad at me, I want to curl up under my blankets in bed and cry. I don’t want to stand my ground and defend my position. I just want us all to get along, and I want you to like me, please.

So when my partner suggested that I do something that I knew would piss a lot of people off, something I would have to defend over and over again, I didn’t want to. I never doubted that it was the best thing for my soon-to-exist child, but I doubted my strength to be able to fight every day.

I’m grateful that I am cisgendered, and I haven’t had to fight every day my entire life. I don’t know if I could’ve fought for my own identity, my own right to exist. I don’t think I have the strength to do that.

I found the strength to fight for Finian though.

With Tyler’s promise that they would always help me fight (they love to fight and argue! and they have a lot of experience with defending their own identity), I agreed to do this. Now, I’m ashamed that I ever hesitated. If I always knew it was what was best, why did I hesitate? Because I’m a coward.

One of my favorite quotes is from Neil Gaimans’s Coraline: “It wasn’t brave because he wasn’t scared: it was the only thing he could do.”

I think this quote really highlights what bravery is, or, at least, what it means to me and for me. A year ago when I announced they/them pronouns for the expected baby, it was brave. I was scared, and I did it anyways. I had a choice to do the easier thing, the less scary thing, but I didn’t take that option. I was brave that day, in the beginning of this adventure.

I’m not brave anymore.

I am no longer deciding to do the scary thing; I’ve already done it. I would still rather ignore confrontation, and I still hate having to justify my choice constantly. But it’s not brave anymore. I’m fighting and arguing and explaining and defending because it’s the only thing I can do. The brave part was jumping off of the cliff; this free-falling business is just whatever. I’d rather not, but like I guess this what we’re doing now--flailing around in space, the entire time justifying to people why I jumped.

The answer is: I saw something better at the bottom. I jumped off of the cliff because I saw a world where my child, and other people, could be free from the gender binary, free to be themselves, free to express, to love, to be.

So I jumped.

I was right a year ago when I thought this decision would be met with resistance and that I would hate the confrontation and fallout. There has been a lot of resistance, confrontation, and fallout, and I have hated every bit of it.

I know what I’m doing is right for Finian, and I believe what I am doing will be good for other people too. I hate that other people don’t see that. I hate that people are telling me I’m wrong, I’m disrespectful, I’m abusive, I’m mentally ill, I’m going to hell, etc. My family has been yelled at; my family has been avoided; my family has received hate mail. We have lost people who I thought we would never lose. Extended family and friends who have been around long enough they’re basically family have turned their backs on us.

My heart has been broken again and again. If it was just me these people were hurting, I think I could take it. It would hurt and I would be sad, but I could still curl up with my sweet baby and partner and be okay. Who needs friends and family when you have cats and books anyways?

But I cannot ignore or forgive that so many people have hurt my parents and my brother.

My family stood by me the entire time. They took my side in every argument, and they received the brunt of the hate so I could recover from giving birth and take care of my newborn. And my parents have lost friends and family that should have been with them forever.

All because I jumped.

I don’t regret this choice at all. I want that point to be very clear. I whole-heartedly stand by the decision to use they/them pronouns for Finian. I believe what we are doing is what is best for my baby. I am doing my damnedest to give them the best start in life that I can, and I will continue to do so for their entire life. I made that commitment to Finian when I gave birth to them. I whispered promises and prayed to gods I don’t believe in when their little head was laid on my chest for the first time. I will love them, I will take care of them, and I will always do my best--even when it’s hard.

And it is hard sometimes. Not just the pronoun fight, but parenting in general is hard. I miss sleep. In the past couple of weeks Finian has had two (or three) more teeth break the surface of their gums. This makes their total eight (or nine), which also happens to be about how many hours of sleep I’ve gotten over the last week. Praise cthulhu for coffee.

Not all of it is hard, though. Finian is an absolute joy. Everyone who has left because of their inability to use they/them is missing out big time.

Not just is Finian a Big Toothy, they are so clever, strong, and funny. They’re about a week away from walking, I would guess. They love to open up their books and jabber at me, because they know books are for reading to people. They love itsy bitsy spider and dancing to music. They like to get involved in every conversation, adding their passionate opinions in complete gibberish while waving their hands around. They’re busy and hyper all the time, and they only sit still for Elmo and Sesame Street.

There’s other good things too, even on the pronoun front.

Recently, I had two strangers respond positively when I did my pronoun speech in response to their “Is it a boy or a girl?” question. Which is huge. They didn’t hesitate or argue or repeat their question like, “okay but really, is it a boy or a girl?” They accepted it, used the correct language, and moved on. It was beautiful. It was a big relief. I brace myself to fight every time someone new meets Finian, so it is a big sigh of released tension when I don’t have to.

These interactions sandwiched going to Pride, which just made it even better. Positive reaction, Pride, positive reaction. Beautiful, why can’t every weekend be like that? We didn’t get to stay at Pride as long as I would’ve liked. It was hot, and Finian missed a nap to walk in the Pride Parade. But even so, it was very important to me that Finian see Pride and the diversity and strength within the community that I am so grateful for.

But something else happened that made that weekend so wonderful: my grandma used the correct pronouns for Finian for the first time. She visited on Sunday, and while she still used gendered pronouns more than she used they/them, she did use they/them. It took some prompting and there was some hesitation on her part, but she did it. And that means so much. More than I can properly put into words. And honestly, I cannot possibly hold hesitation or the need to be prompted against anyone; I needed it too, in the beginning.

As Finian gets older, it is more and more important that we use consistent pronouns around them. A newborn doesn’t register what words are being used, but Finian’s understanding of language is being developed right now. They’re starting to form words, trying to speak.

I didn’t want to stop being around my grandma because she couldn’t stop using gendered language. I like her and love her, and I’ve lost so many people already. But I was beginning to be afraid I would need to draw boundaries around her too. I already can’t go to her house because there are too many people around her who are too unfriendly. I didn’t want to tell her she couldn’t come to me either.

But on a Sunday afternoon, she sat on the deck with a cup of coffee in her hands, watching Finian play and laugh, and she said “they.” Instant elation!

Grandma D loves me more than she loves the gender binary. She is willing to adapt her language to have a relationship with me and my child. She’s on my side, even if she doesn’t agree with me. There is love and support there, and I could not be happier.

It took a year to get to this point, and it might take another year before she is consistent with it. I can be patient. I’ll keep reminding and prompting and forgiving. She loves me and is showing me support, and I’ll love her and show her support.

A year ago, I jumped off of a cliff. I’m finally starting to feel like I have firm ground beneath my feet again. It’s been hard at times, but I do think the grass is greener here.