How to Ask for a Person’s Gender Pronouns

Plus, how to make peace with people wondering what gender you are

My embarrassing peeve is when a stranger at the store asks, “What are your gender pronouns?”

I’d rather accept it. Yet, I can’t help feeling annoyed and self-conscious.

I wish to look like a woman. Being randomly asked for pronouns means I’m not passing. I’m coming across as ambiguous.

My pronoun is she, but I like to fancy that it’s obvious.

Once someone asks, I get in my head. Everyone must be staring, wondering about me. Why did that person need to know?

I understand, though. I’ve gotten carried away with my curiosity before. I’ve said the wrong thing and offended.

The person who asked me might be trans themself, or non-binary. They might love being asked for their pronouns. They forgot that some trans people want to remain stealth.

5 pronoun-asking tips

Here are 5 suggestions for finding out pronouns. And getting by without them until you do!

1. When unsure, use gender-neutral language. “I met them at the supermarket. They seemed like a friendly person.”
2. Ask groups instead of individuals. “For your introductions, feel free to mention your gender pronouns.”
3. Get to know people, without needing to know their gender. “What’s your name? What was the highlight of your week?”
4. People may tell you organically. “I’m Phoenix. My highlight this week was Skyping with a few other girls.”
5. Ask privately when you must know. “Hey, I wanted to make a Facebook post thanking you for your volunteer work! Can I double-check with you what pronouns I should use?

Now, how to be less sensitive?

Gender education ROCKS. Diverse people finally get understanding and acceptance. I can help you see me the way I see myself.

However, there’s value too in learning to see myself the way you see me.

I forget I’m not the only spectacle at the grocery store. Everyone has traits that leave you gawking and guessing.

Are they cosmetically enhanced? What race are they? Where’s that accent from? Have they always been disabled? Are they pregnant? Is that hair natural? They must be 7 feet tall!

I can have sympathy, and humility. I’m not entitled to be “normal-looking” or “perfectly passable,” if there is such a thing.

I can count the things I like about my appearance.

I can embrace people wondering. I could crack a joke to put people at ease.

I can pay closer attention to the identity pains others go through. I can offer empathy, and learn how to help.

I can regularly imagine how others must feel. We’re not alone.

This story is published in a Few Words, Medium’s publication that only accepts stories under 500 words.

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