The truth of our experience will not change no matter how adamant your refusal to see it may be.

This article was updated on 12/23/24. For more details , please read this post-publishing note.

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It can’t be emphasized enough: Coming out as transgender or any variation thereof can be downright terrifying.

Many of us will experience criticism, resistance, and invalidation. Even in the best case scenario, there’s a sense of awkwardness and fear when we reveal such a deep part of ourselves.

When I came out to friends and eventually family, it felt like the world was crashing down all around me. And by far, one of the worst parts was the resistance and invalidation I faced when asking my family to use my pronouns.

If you aren’t yet familiar, many trans people will ask others to change a very ingrained habit — to use different pronouns when speaking about us. This is where I encountered the most turmoil, a turmoil that eventually fractured many important relationships in my life.

What I found is that some folks simply don’t understand what they are suggesting when they refuse to use someone’s stated gender pronouns.

When someone shares their pronouns (he, she, ze, they, etc), they are asking for your respect. And when you choose not to use these pronouns, and instead opt for your own, you are not only invalidating someone’s identity — you’re also saying a plethora of harmful things that you likely never intended.

So what are you really saying when you’ve decided to continue using a pronoun that someone doesn’t identify with, despite being corrected?

Here are just a few things you could be suggesting when you’re misgendering someone:

1. I know you better than you know yourself.

When you make the decision to not respect someone’s pronouns, what you are ultimately saying is that their personal truth is something you are more knowledgeable about than them.

You are essentially saying, “I know better than you do this intimate, intrinsic part of who you are.”

The reality is, someone’s gender identity is only for that individual to discover and declare.

In recent years, this has continued to be contentious, so let me spell it out a little more clearly.

When we say that someone’s gender identity is for them to declare, what we mean is that how they relate to concepts like femininity, masculinity, and androgyny, as well as how they feel in their body — including their potential discomfort with how that body is perceived and gendered by others, and what is needed by them to feel more at ease and joyful — is a deeply personal and individual experience.

This is true for transgender people, yes, but this is also true for people who aren’t transgender (cisgender people)!

No one is living your life, and therefore, could not possibly know your feelings about your gender and body better than you can, and no one but you can know what you need to feel comfortable.

So when you choose to continue using incorrect pronouns for a trans person, you are saying that you are more familiar with who they are and what they need than they are. And logically speaking… that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

If she says she’s a woman — that “woman” is the most affirming word to describe this intrinsic experience, and what she needs to feel seen and whole and alive — I would think she would know that better than you do… just like she knows her favorite food is spaghetti, she’s a Buddhist, and her favorite color is teal.

2. I would rather hurt you repeatedly than change the way I speak about you.

Each time we misgender someone, we are inflicting harm.

That isn’t just a spicy opinion intended to rile people up; that’s a research-backed, measurable phenomenon that has been documented over and over again, and one that trans people have shared openly about over the years.

Repeated misgendering has mental health and relational consequences. (And I should know — it’s one of the painful reasons why I am estranged from members of my own family.)

I don’t say this to make you feel ashamed for accidentally misgendering someone you care about! I say this because this is completely avoidable harm. It’s something that we can practice and improve on, something we can change, before it costs someone their mental health, their relationship to you, or even their life.

Think about it this way: Would you rather hurt someone? Or simply change the way you are speaking?

3. Your sense of safety is not important to me.

When we misgender someone, we threaten not only their personal sense of safety, but potentially their physical safety as well.

When someone feels invalidated or disrespected, they may not feel safe sharing space with you, especially not knowing the extent of how you feel about transgender people as a whole. That’s reason enough to not misgender someone.

But you might also risk “outing” them as transgender to other people — folks who may not know they are trans, who may become confrontational, aggressive, or even violent if they realize this person is transgender.

Generally speaking, a transgender person might lose their housing, their job, their community, or even their access to competent, non-biased health care if their status as transgender is revealed. You have no way of knowing how “outing” them in one context could carry over or impact them in others.

This could cause serious harm that you never intended.

If someone has asked you to use their pronouns, it could be a matter of safety — whether it’s their sense of emotional safety with you specifically, or their physical and material safety in the world and the communities you share.

The bottom-line: If they ask you to use specific pronouns, use them unless they ask otherwise. Their safety could and often does depend on it.

4. Your identity isn’t real and shouldn’t be acknowledged.

When you ignore someone’s pronouns and opt for your own, you are, in a way, admitting that you do not recognize their identity as authentic, and you are refusing to acknowledge it as such.

In other words, you heard their truth, but you are not accepting it. Instead, you are ignoring it.

You are saying, “You said this is what’s true for you, but I don’t believe you, so I will reject your truth and replace it with my assumptions.”

In any other context, this would be incredibly audacious. But because trans people often have their identities spoken about as if they’re up for debate, it’s become insidiously normal.

Imagine: “You said you have a dog, but I prefer cats, so I’m going to pretend you have a cat. Here, have a bag of cat food.”

Or: “You said you have a serious illness, but that’s too much for me to deal with, so I’m going to pretend you’re healthy. Let’s flush your medications down the toilet in celebration!”

Or: “You said you are filing for divorce, but that makes me sad, so I’m going to keep pretending we’re married. Where do you want to get dinner tonight, honey?”

Or: “You said you live on the third floor, but I hate climbing stairs, so I’m going to throw your housewarming party in the apartment downstairs, which I’ll pretend is yours.”

So how does this sound now: “You said you’re a man, but that would force me to use different pronouns and rethink my assumptions about you, so I’m going to continue to pretend you’re a woman.”

A lot of folks like to present transgender people as living a lie or being delusional — but how we relate to the concept of gender, and what we need to feel comfortable in our skin, has never been dictated by our anatomy.

And I think most people who aren’t transgender can still understand this if they really think about it. What you need to feel validated and affirmed in your femininity or masculinity (or even androgyny!) is not the same as somebody else.

Why is it such a leap to think that some people who are assigned a gender can’t feel affirmed in it at all, especially when it was based on something as arbitrary as what’s between their legs, rather than the constellation of qualities and preferences that make up who they are?

But rather than acknowledging the reality of what that person has uncovered about what makes them feel whole, misgendering is a way of essentially confessing that you do not accept their lived experience — instead, you have replaced what you heard with your version of what you wish were true about them.

I believe we should treat each other as the experts on our own experience, and do our best to respect each individual’s journey in knowing themselves more deeply.

Frankly, to do otherwise is to simply live in denial. And while you’re free to do that, you should know: The truth of our experience will not change no matter how adamant your refusal to see it may be.

5. I want to teach everyone around me to disrespect you.

When you continue to use the incorrect pronouns, you are teaching everyone around you to use those same (incorrect) pronouns.

Your transgender friend now has to correct not only you, but all of the people you’ve taught to use those same pronouns. You are working against them, and forcing them to come out as transgender over and over again. You are making their already very difficult job much, much harder.

I imagine you can understand why that would be frustrating. It takes one instance of harm and multiplies it.

6. Offending you is fine if it makes me feel more comfortable.

What you’re really saying is that your sense of comfort is more important than offending and invalidating someone else.

You’re saying that you are okay with hurting someone repeatedly, as long as you get to remain comfortable and unchallenged.

It’s okay to be disrespectful, as long as it keeps things easy for you.

7. I can hear you talking, but I’m not really listening.

Someone I love very much, when I first told him how much it hurt to be misgendered by him, insisted that I “shouldn’t need external validation” to feel affirmed in my identity.

Which really misses the point. Because I wasn’t asking him to validate my identity — he doesn’t get to decide its validity! Instead, I was asking him to affirm with his words that he sees me, and that respecting and honoring my experience in the world matters to him.

My identity wasn’t the thing I was asking to have validated. Through affirming language, he had (and missed) an opportunity to demonstrate that my authentic self is welcomed and important to him.

He may as well have said: “Yes, I heard you speak your truth — I heard you share a deep part of yourself with me, and ask to be treated with respect moving forward. But I wasn’t really listening, because despite the courage and vulnerability you shared with me, I plan to continue ignoring the one request you made that would assure you that who you are matters to me.”

When a trans person asks you to gender them correctly, they aren’t asking you to cast your vote for how “real” or “valid” their gender is to you. They’re giving you an opportunity to demonstrate that who they are deep down matters to you, and that they are safe to be themselves with you.

8. Being who you truly are is an inconvenience to me.

When someone comes out to us as transgender, we have a beautiful opportunity to affirm that knowing this person on a deeper level is a privilege and a gift, not an inconvenience.

Repeated misgendering is the quickest way to tarnish that opportunity.

It’s like saying, “Rather than being proud of you for living your truth, or being grateful that you trusted me with this part of yourself, I’m going to disregard all that, because your identity is an inconvenience. Changing how I refer to you would be uncomfortable and a burden, and that discomfort matters more to me than our continued connection.”

It also inappropriately centers your discomfort about having to change pronouns, rather than recognizing how difficult the journey often is for transgender people, and showing up supportively for someone who placed incredible trust in you by inviting you into their coming out process.

It’s valid to have complex feelings when someone comes out as transgender! And, it’s crucial to process those feelings in appropriate ways, that do not add additional pain and struggle onto the trans person in your life who hoped to receive your support.

Being stubborn about pronouns is one way in which you may be minimizing their struggle, and instead, centering your own frustration and grief.

9. I would prefer it if you stopped being honest with me.

When someone reveals their truth and you ignore and repeatedly invalidate it, what you’re really saying is that you’d prefer that they weren’t honest with you at all. You’d prefer that they lied to you, so that you would never be burdened or inconvenienced by their identity or their struggles.

For the trans person in your life, what you’re teaching them is that if they tell you the truth, you will choose your own comfort even if it harms them — which can make it feel as though it’s safer to hide and distance themselves from you, than to have a real, genuine, authentic relationship.

It’s like saying, “Your truth and happiness are only worth recognizing if it’s compatible with my worldview and comfort. Otherwise, it’s better if you simply kept lying to me.”

And I can tell you from painful experience… after a while, it won’t just be their gender that they’re holding back on. I can tell you that there will come a point in the future where they’ve hidden so many parts of their authentic self, you won’t really know them at all. They may stop correcting you, but it’s because they’ve given up on you.

If this is a person you love and that matters to you, please don’t let that happen.

10. I am not an ally, a friend, or someone you can trust.

If someone criticized, rejected, and invalidated a part of you that was important to who you really are in every interaction you had — if they refused to acknowledge that experience as real and important — would you call them a friend?

Would you feel comfortable around them? Would you trust them to stand up for you when it mattered? Would you be excited to spend time with them?

The truth is, misgendering isn’t just harmful to trans people, though that’s reason enough to stop doing it. It’s harmful to the relationship you may want to have to that person. And in continuing to misgender them, you’ve proven that your comfort is more important than their safety, dignity, and truth.

When you continue to make that decision — over and over again — it’s hard to not leave with the impression that you can’t be trusted. Not just to say the right words, but to be the kind of person that makes others feel seen, safe, and valued.

I want to make something clear: I’m not saying this to shame you, or even to change you.

I wrote this article — and years later, I rewrote it in parts, after no longer having a relationship to my own parents — with the hopes that other families, friendships, and communities don’t have to experience what my family has. The painful disconnection that is inevitable when someone tells you, unintentionally or otherwise, “Your true self isn’t important enough to me.”

This is what happens when you choose to sacrifice someone’s dignity to avoid your own discomfort.

I write this with fierce love and focus, because I want to make it clear exactly what’s at stake… so you can decide, fully informed now, what kind of friend, parent, loved one, or really, person you aspire to be.

Because what you choose to do in this relationship is not just a reflection of your views about transgender people.

It’s a reflection of your willingness to respect people who are different from you, and to celebrate the courage, authenticity, and strength it takes to choose your truth in a society that is constantly pushing us to be something or someone we’re not.

That is not a uniquely transgender experience, though it is a universal experience amongst trans people.

While you may not intend to say any of these things on the list, that doesn’t change how it impacts the person on the receiving end. When you misgender someone, these are the painful messages underlying what might feel minor and inconsequential in the moment.

And while you may not completely understand the whole “transgender thing,” that’s okay — my hope is that by the time you’ve read this article, there’s still time for you to put in the effort to learn, grow, and connect.

Please believe me when I say that time is so, so precious.

I don’t know what you believe. But I think the world can only benefit from more authenticity, more courage, and more connection.

When a transgender person offers all three of these things to you — authenticity, courage, and connection — and all they ask for in return is that you demonstrate with your words that it matters, I don’t know what else to call that, except a gift.

And after my 33 years of life, I no longer believe in telling people what they “should” do with that gift. I can only tell you what it costs.

I think gendering people correctly is important, and an act of care, respect, and kindness. But if you don’t think so, all I can do is tell you that I hope it’s worth what it might cost you.

And if you aren’t concerned about the trans people that are hurt by it, and the families that have to work harder to protect their loved ones because of the hostile world being built around them, brick by brick, nothing I wrote here could have changed that.

But if you love a trans person, and you’re just afraid or confused or overwhelmed, here’s what I can promise you: If you give them the effort, care, and love they deserve from you, your relationship will only grow stronger with time.

Getting to see someone step into their most liberated, truthful, and authentic self is one of the most beautiful things you’ll ever get to witness. Whether you join them for that journey, or simply become a distant stranger, is in your hands.

It doesn’t have to be complicated if you don’t want it to be. Just start with the words they shared with you — practice them alone, in the mirror, on the phone with a friend: He. They. She. Ze.

And if it helps, just remember, every time you get it right, it’s a small but meaningful way of saying, “I trust, see, respect, and cherish you.”

It’s not about being perfect. It’s not even about being “politically correct.” It’s about showing up in our relationships in ways that invite others to be their authentic selves, transgender or not.

And in doing so, we recognize the dignity in that choice — to be freely and openly ourselves — is more important than the discomfort it may require for us to meet someone there.

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A Post-Publication Note (December 2024):

Hi from The Future!

Wow, wow, wow. Ten years later, after watching this blog post go viral repeatedly over the years (and a non-credited graphic went viral with these words even more times, too, ughhh), it’s been remarkable to see how these words have aged.

Most of it remains painfully true, even though our collective recognition of and competence around transgender people has shifted.

But having lived another decade of life, I felt called to edit some of the text here, to hopefully say more clearly — from the heart — what I feel some folks still need to hear.

I hope you don’t mind a few rewritten sections… hopefully they reflect the person and writer I’ve become since then.

Re: The hateful comments that this blog seems to attract…

Whether you accept this loving invitation to approach transgender people with care and kindness is entirely up to you.

Cis or trans, queer or straight, I hope that every person asks themselves this simple question, especially when issues of dignity end up misconstrued as debates: Is this who I want to be?

I wrote this blog post to invite folks into THAT conversation. What you do now is entirely up to you.

I’ve done this work a long enough time now to know this with certainty:

Your reaction to this post isn’t about me, or about trans people, or even about “politics.” It’s all you. It’s always been about you.

I can guarantee you that the time you spend sitting with that — specifically, with what your discomfort around what I wrote and what I stand for says about you — is more worthwhile than what you’re prepared to spend shouting into the void, writing a comment that the world will never see.

As a trans person especially, and as someone deeply committed to knowing and meeting all parts of myself, there’s truly no corner within me that I haven’t faced yet.

Can you say the same?

And to the trans folks who may be reading this…

For every hateful comment I’ve received over the years, please remember there are so many more supportive, warm, and humble responses, from folks of so many different walks of life.

Grandmothers who vowed to embrace their transgender grandkids, parents who joined a support group after reading, friends who mended fences after this… there are people out there who are willing to love you fully, and I hope you’ll never settle for less.

As a trans adult who is living a joyful and unbothered life, it’s also important to me that you know that these types of hateful responses we receive — while they do reflect a painful truth about the world we live in — do not necessarily dictate the kind of future available to us.

Please remember: If their words held any power, I would have disappeared a long, long time ago.

Instead, much to their disappointment, ten years later I am living a truly vibrant, authentic, and abundant life. Not a perfect life, but a beautiful one nonetheless.

And I am still here fighting for a future where, I deeply hope, the same will be true for you. 🏳️‍⚧️

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_{Photo by Andra C Taylor Jr on Unsplash}