BestSelf, Honesty, Intention, Practice
Mis-gendering has been a running shtick for centuries. From Shakespeare to Netflix and everywhere in between, you can find comic relief in the form of gender bending and misunderstanding. Imagine a shot in a film where we only see the back of someone’s head. Our protagonist walks up behind the person and says, “excuse me, sir,” only for the person to turn around infuriated because they are clearly a “ma’am.” Cue nervous laughter from the audience. Misunderstanding, tension, comic relief. What is funny to me about this shtick (though, not laugh out loud funny) is that we never know a person’s gender by simply looking at them. This situation could be avoided by using gender neutral language. And if you’re thinking, “but Jenna, it’s just a stupid comedic set-up,” my response is two-fold:
  1. Comedy writers, you can do better than that.
  2.  That was just a relatable example of something that happens all the time every day, even when people don’t pick up on the misunderstanding or the tension.
If people, in general, can relate to how uncomfortable it is for a “ma’am,” to be called, “sir,” then why do we have such trouble dropping gender-assumptive language? Yes, the gender binary is deeply ingrained, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t put forth the effort to make a change. In fact, I believe we can’t afford not to put in the effort to make gender neutral language common practice. The thing is, when we see someone in passing and casually gender them – whether in our own head or out loud – by using a gender-assumptive pronoun, designation, or colloquialism we are doing more than just “harmlessly” assuming… we are also assigning identity markers to that person. While a person can otherwise choose particular markers as a form of self-identification, in this context identity markers are perceived attributes assigned to a person in order to contextualize their status and role in society. Examples of identity markers are race, ethnicity, language, gender, age, religion, socioeconomic class, education, marital status, etc. So often people use these markers to describe another person to a friend, family member, or colleague… and much of the time at least some of the information shared is assumed based on perceived identity markers. We say, “She/he/they grew up in ____ neighborhood,” or, “she/he/they are married to a man who _____,” or, “she/he/they are 62 and go to church every Sunday.” We should think critically about what others read into when we use these markers (and also why we might be more likely to use an identity marker to describe someone than their personality or passions). Identity markers are loaded – especially when they are assigned or presumed – because of their cultural significance. Gender is a tricky marker, because it is invisible. It should never be assumed. 
If you are new to learning about gender, here is a quick Gender 101: Gender is not defined by a individual’s genitals, sexuality, body type, hairstyle, body/facial hair, clothing, pitch of voice, lifestyle, beliefs, childbearing history, presence/absence of menstruation, etc. Gender is defined by the individual, based on how they relate to their lived experience. This means you cannot see/hear gender. Sex is what is between your legs, and gender is what is between your ears. Also, as a prerequisite for Gender 102: understand that gender is a spectrum, not a binary – there are more genders than just masculine and feminine. The language as it relates to biology and identity can get quite personal and subjective, so we will save that for another day. 
To assume someone’s gender, especially if assuming their gender within the binary (i.e. masculine or feminine), is to box them into a whole set of preconceived cultural ideas about how they “should” be and behave. It also strips a person of the freedom to self-identify, which can be extremely disempowering. This happens all day, all the time. It is a habit I have been trying to break myself of, and encourage those closest to me to examine as well. Maybe you’re wondering how to start breaking the habit of automatically gendering others. Maybe you’re still not clear what I mean, or how this even shows up in every day life. Here are some practical ways to start realizing the importance of gender-neutral language, and put it into practice.
  1. When you meet someone new, wait until you know a their gender before using gender-assuming or gender-affirming pronouns (she/her/hers; he/him/his; they/them/their; ze/zir; etc.), designations (sir, ma’am, father, mother, parent, etc.), and colloquialisms (dude, lady, man, mama, etc.).
    1. How will you know the person’s gender, if not by sight? Wait for… the person to blatantly self-identify, “Hi, I’m Jenna, I prefer they/their pronouns.”
    2. Or… ask what pronouns they use. Make it a practice to introduce yourself by following your name with your pronouns, and then ask the same of the other person.
    3. Feels too new, uncomfortable, or unsafe? …wait to pick up on a gender-related identity marker, whether you hear them refer to themselves, or another person marks them (just be mindful that the other person could be mis-gendering your new friend).
  2. It doesn’t matter what your new friend looks or sounds like. It doesn’t matter where you met them. Gender isn’t visible. Unless they are wearing their pronouns on a name tag, refer to step 1. Safe spaces are improved upon by informed allies.
  3. When identifying someone in a narrative avoid assigning a gender. Maybe you just saw someone juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street and you really want to tell your friend! Rather than, “I just saw a man juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street.” Try, “I just saw a person juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street.”
    1. Want to add more details to your story? Use gender neutral pronouns! “He had a tie-dye vest on.” –> “They had a tie-dye vest on.”
    2. The person on the unicycle ends up in line at the same coffee shop as you and you start chatting (but haven’t identified your genders yet) and someone else in line asks how you met? Don’t panic. It’s easy, “I saw them just now riding down Main Street and we started chatting.”
  4. Replace your gender-assumptive habits with new ones! Maybe you always say, “Hey ladies,” when you start out a team meeting at work and everyone in the room appears to be feminine because it helps you feel more immediately connected to the group.  Remember that you may be assuming someone’s gender. Find something else that connects you all – it can still be casual and fun – “Hey team,” or, “Hey party people!”
    1. You can be your authentic self without tip-toeing around!
    2. You just have to compassionately consider that everyone is having their own unique human experience, and deserves the right to own their gender identity. I all-but-guarantee you, if you sit with it, it will start to feel less important to always use that gender-exclusive language you’ve grown so attached to.
  5. If you own or operate a business that asks for personal information, including gender, revise your forms to be inclusive. If you’re not sure how, it’s always a safe bet to just write “Gender: ______________ Pronouns:_____________,” and then just let folks fill it in as they’d like.
  6. If you are a cisgender ally still struggling to understand why it is important to erase gender-assumptive language habits from your daily life… think of how you feel when someone incorrectly calls you, “sir,” or “ma’am,” (if it’s ever happened to you before)… and now imagine that happening every single day. That’s what it can feel like as a transgender, nonbinary, or gender non-conforming person.
  7. If you are a cisgender ally desperately trying to integrate gender-neutral language and habits into your daily life, and it feels really hard… Keep doing your best! We all make mistakes. Seriously. We all mess this up. Correct yourself in the moment when you can, “I saw this man – uh – person juggling while riding a unicycle down Main Street,” or “he – uh – they live downtown.” Gracefully pick yourself up if you make a mistake, and keep on trying!
    1. Don’t remind the transgender, nonbinary, or gender non-conforming folks in your life how hard it is to avoid misgendering them, though. Don’t express that them being themselves is a burden on you.
    2. You got this!
Making gender-neutral language a common practice is a great way to show love, compassion, and respect for everyone around you, so that those living in fear of being misunderstood or unseen are reminded that their is a place for them in your circle. 
0

When I first dropped into a regular asana practice, I had no idea the magnitude of what I was doing. I now give credit to yoga for every single one of my best qualities. It has taught me to be present, strong and compassionate. Most importantly, it taught me to love myself. The cultivation of those qualities has brought me to a place where I am finally able to talk about a time in my life where I was the antithesis of my present self—disconnected, weak and selfish. I was sexually assaulted in when I was 19-years-old. Four years later, I am now able to say those words without feeling shame. Only a few months ago, that traumatic experience was still locked up inside. I have since realized that confronting it is empowering. Now, I am determined to transform it into a gift. In the aftermath of the assault, I reacted in countless self-destructive ways. I felt ashamed of myself. I escaped from the present moment and my own body whenever possible. The majority of my time was spent disconnecting from others and from myself. Why? Because I felt something was wrong with me—that I was bad. Simply being in my own body caused me humiliation. It didn’t take long for my shame to be accompanied by guilt. The disordered behaviors I found myself stuck in did not make me feel any better. Not only did I feel bad, I knew that what I was doing was bad. Not only did I want to escape my body, I wanted to escape my behavior. I didn’t have the ability to end my destructive behaviors, so instead I hid them, which caused constant anxiety. I hid my habits from my family, friends and boyfriend. I continued to study hard and work hard so that no one could see how I was feeling or what I was doing. I was functional, but still self-destructive. My life went on in this way for nearly a year following my assault. Until my friend encouraged me to come with her to a Vinyasa class at a nearby yoga studio. It was my first time in years practicing in a room with a teacher leading class, rather than on a screen in front of me. To be honest, nothing “clicked.” I didn’t find instant clarity as my hands hit the mat, but I did feel a magnetic pull—right from the center of my gut—to come back. That’s when I started dropping into a regular practice. Yoga soon replaced running as my physical outlet. In the months following my assault, I would run almost every day. Not jog—run. I was running as if I could somehow run right out of my own skin. With yoga, I was slowing down, I was even staying still. I didn’t realize it, but I was starting to heal simply by learning to be present in my own body. I abandoned my destructive behaviors. I learned to come to my mat when I was feeling shame, or guilt, or disconnection. Over time, I began to cultivate self-love, compassion and connection. You know what? It wasn’t always easy. In fact, sometimes I left my mat feeling worse than when I started. I would leave class and cry, or I’d leave and be on edge for days, not wanting to go back. No matter how I resisted, though, that magnetic pull yanked me right from my core back into the practice. Even though coming to my mat and practicing bodily presence was a great step in recovering from the assault, I was completely and utterly unaware of just how great a step it was. I was gaining a connection between my mind and my body, my breath and my movement. I was gaining intentionality. Through dedication to my practice—on and off the mat—I slowly began to rebuild a sense of self and a sense of ownership over my body.
“Release anything that you are holding onto.” 
These words are often said in the yoga classroom. Something in me was ready to be released, but I needed more time. Eventually, it all started to connect. Through my disconnected behaviors, I had so effectively buried the memory of my sexual assault that it was nearly impossible to trigger it. Now that I was beginning to reconnect to my body and my world, I was getting back bits and pieces. Three years after I dedicated myself to my practice on the mat, and four years after my sexual assault, yoga has equipped me with the tools to begin to process. I know how to breathe, even when I am in an uncomfortable position. I know I am strong; if I can bear my least favorite pose for just another moment, I can bear anything. I know that I can trust myself. Most importantly, I know that I am here.
Side note to self: Jenna, you are here. You are in your body. You can sense the world around you, thanks to your body. Be in your body. No, it hasn’t always been great in here, but you are alive and you are here. Be here. This is real. This is happening.
Several months ago, it was (unsurprisingly) my yoga practice that finally pulled the emotional trigger, and brought four years of suppressed feelings bubbling up to the surface. I was literally knocked flat on my ass for a day. I felt like a train had hit me, and I wasn’t ready to accept why. It took an entire week of nightmares for me to realize that it was time to confront the reality of my sexual assault. It was real. It happened. I turned to one of my teachers and asked for help, and with her encouragement began seeing a counselor to process my trauma. Thanks to the skills I have acquired through my yoga practice, I feel prepared to process. No, I am not healed. No, I haven’t let go of all of the shame and guilt. Looking back, it is difficult not to feel guilty for the way I reacted after my assault. It still feels like an excuse when I say I did the best I could. I wish I had learned to love myself sooner. I am grateful every day for my physical yoga practice. Without it, I might still be disconnected, apathetic and miserable. Getting onto my mat taught me how to be present in my body, learn to reflect without feeling shame, and learn to feel without being out of control. Being a part of a community of like-minded yogis helps me to feel supported, connected and grounded enough to face my demons. And as I continue to process and grow, I do so with the intention of turning my traumatic experience into a gift. I want to use my gratitude for the practice of yoga to increase its magnetism—that familiar pull that caught me right in my gut—so that others might find a way to love and accept themselves in light of, not in spite of, their traumas.   Originally published November 2014 on elephantjournal.com
0