Coming Out Genderqueer: An Open Letter to My Family & Friends

November 26, 2013  |  journal entries

As published on Facebook, where I could tag at least 20 of ‘em.

Dear family & friends,

Especially friends from my childhood and high school years who have found me for whatever reasons on Facebook, and family with whom I’m not particularly close, and coworkers from previous jobs who I have perhaps never had this chat with:


I have something to tell you: I’m genderqueer. That means I live my day-to-day life somewhere between “man” and “woman,” often facing all sorts of daily interactions where the general public doesn’t “get” my gender, from kids in the grocery store asking, “are you a boy or a girl?” and their mom hushing them and turning away, to little old ladies in the women’s room staring wide-eyed and backing out of the restroom slowly, only to then return with a confused and self-protective look on their face, to service industry folks saying, “Can I help you, sir? Uh, ma’am? Uh … ?”

That confusion, that in-between state, is precisely it. That’s who I am. I’m neither, and both. I’m in-between.

You may already know this about me, just from following me on Facebook and doing whatever sleuthing you’ve done about my projects. You probably know I’m queer. But, if you want to know, I’m going to explain a few more things about my gender for a minute.


If you want to delve a little deeper into my particular gender, I consider myself butch, I identify as masculine, and I consider genderqueer part of the “trans*” communities, using trans-asterisk as the umbrella term to encompass, well, anybody who feels in-between. I’ve been identifying as “butch” for a long time—perhaps you’ve heard me use this word, an identity I consider to mean a masculine-identified person who was assigned female at birth. I consider myself masculine, but as I delve further into gender politics and theory and communities, the boxes of “woman” and “man” feel too constricting and limiting for me to occupy them comfortably.

I have for years thought that it was extremely important for people like me—masculine people with a fluid sense of gender and personality traits, who don’t feel limited by gender roles or restricted by gender policing—should continue to identify as women as a political act, as a way to increase the possibilities of what “woman” can be. That’s really important. And I still believe that is true, and heavily support that category.

Problem is, “woman” has never fit me. I had bottomless depression as a teenager (perhaps some of you remember I was sent to the principal’s office once for “wearing too much black”), plagued often by the idea of “woman” and adult womanhood. I could not understand who I would be in that context. And honestly, I still can’t.

But—even though it is in some ways harder, living outside of the gender norms—this in-between makes so much sense to me.

ON PRONOUNS (This part is important.)

For a few years now, I’ve been stating, when asked, that I prefer the third-person pronouns they and them when referring to me. That means, if you’re speaking of me in a sentence, you’d say, “They are about to walk the entire Pacific Crest Trail, it’s true,” or “Did you hear they just published another book?” or, “I really like spending time with them.”

See? Easy.

Lately, when people ask what my preferred pronoun is, I have been saying, “I prefer they and them, but all of them are fine and I don’t correct anybody.” I don’t mind the other pronouns. They don’t irk me. But when someone “gets” it, and honors the they/them request, it makes me feel seen and understood.

There are other options for third-person pronouns which are gender neutral—or rather, not he or she. “They” is the one that I think, as a writer, is the easiest for me to integrate into sentences. I completely believe in calling people what they want to be called (that has always been one of my mom’s great mom-isms), so I always do my best to respect pronouns, but I still struggle with the conjugations and the way those words fit in a sentence.

Some people—particularly those (ahem like me) who were English majors and for whom grammar rules are exciting—think the “singular they,” as it’s called, is grammatically incorrect. But it’s not. It’s actually been used in literature for hundreds of years. Here’s one particular article on the Singular They and the Many Reasons Why It Is Correct. Read up, if that intrigues you.


I haven’t sat any of my family—immediate or extended—down and said, Hi, I’d like you to use they/them pronouns for me. I don’t generally tell people that unless they ask. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I haven’t told you, what I’m afraid of, and what is keeping me from this conversation.

I’m not particularly afraid that you won’t “get it” or that you won’t honor it. If you don’t, that’s actually okay. I am part of some amazing trans* and genderqueer and gender-forward communities full of activism, respect, advocacy, and understanding, and I’m very lucky to feel whole and respected in that work.

And really, I believe that the very vast majority of you actually really wants to know, wants to honor my choices. I think you are probably curious about this. But for whatever reason, my (and probably your) west coast sensibilities are keeping us from having a direct conversation.

So, here ya go. It’s not particularly personal, but it’s the beginnings of something, and it’s my offering to you to talk about this, if you want to.

See the thing is, by not having this conversation with you, by not giving you the opportunity to respect my gender and pronouns (even if you think it’s weird-ass and strange and don’t get it), I’m limiting our intimacy. I’m not giving you all the chance to really know me. And maybe … you want to. Maybe this will open up something new between us.

Or maybe you’ll just go, “Huh. Okay. Whatever.” That’s fine too.

If you have questions, or want to talk about all this gender stuff, I am open to that. Ask away. (You don’t always get a free pass to ask weird questions, so you might want to utilize this opportunity.) But before you do, you might want to check out The Gender Book for some basic terminology, concepts, and ideas.

Sorry I haven’t told you yet. I’ve been telling myself that it “isn’t that important,” but actually it’s been a barrier between us, in some minor big ways.


That kid who was in English class with you in high school,
Your former coworker,
Your cousin,
Your nibling (did you know that’s the gender neutral term for neice or nephew??),
Your grandkid,
The older sibling of your childhood friend,
Your best friend from 6th grade,
That queer who was crushed on you before they knew they were queer,


PS: Feel free to steal this idea for your own Facebook pages.



  1. Brilliant! Thank you so much for this.

  2. Well said.

    I think if people matter to us then what they call us and/or how they refer to us matters. Pronouns, pet names, whatever.

  3. What an excellent and timely topic! Thank you for sharing and for explaining so clearly what genderqueer and trans* mean. I’ll be keeping a copy of this for my own social networks. :)

  4. hi! i identify as genderqueer myself, and i’ve really been thinking about the entire coming out thing as of late (or maybe forever) too! i was really contemplating a fb post, & i’ve discarded several drafts already. part of the reason why i haven’t really come out as genderqueer (or queer) is because i don’t have the courage to put such an integral part of myself out there, and because i really don’t know anyone who’s doing the same. reading your post makes me feel as though i know, for sure, that i’m sure as hell not alone, and not weird. thank you so much for posting this – you’ve definitely made my day. <3

    • Hi kay, thanks for your note.

      I totally understand it’s an integral part of yourself and it’s hard to put out there … I feel really lucky to be so deeply involved in queer and genderqueer communities, where I feel like that’s my “real life” with my “real friends,” so when I started thinking about doing this, it was clear that the worst things that could possibly happen (that they’d harass me? disown me? unfriend me?) were not scary. Anybody who would respond with that, I wouldn’t really want to be friends with anyway.

      So I got it in my head that I would write this note, and did, and the response has been great. But what I didn’t anticipate was that as soon as I published it, I got really nervous! It was scarier than I expected. I have gotten really comfortable at keeping my childhood friends/family/former coworkers OUT of my queer/genderqueer life. There’s a pretty strong separation between them, even. And while I post all kinds of things on Facebook, and am out as Sinclair and post all the time about gender/queer things, but I don’t usually talk to any of them *directly* about that stuff. I’m not sure if they just ignore that part of my Facebook feed, or have me muted, or are fascinated, or who knows.

      It’s definitely been more vulnerable than I expected. Still, I like to do this kind of thing, to push edges. And I do think that my family & (old) friends are genuinely curious about it, and want to respect people’s wishes and gender and pronouns and etc, but most of us are just too polite or nervous or uncertain or scared to say the wrong thing to ask. So I hope it opens up some conversations.

  5. This. Thank you so much for this.

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