“Really?” Derek says. Pete twists around to look at us. I swallow and make myself keep talking anyway.
“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, it’s just that I haven’t before.”
Derek groans. “Sorry! We shouldn’t have assumed. Damn, I should know better by now. Especially since you have that i in your name. What do you prefer, those gender-neutral pronouns like ze and zir?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve never used those. I get why people do, but it just seems kind of disrespectful to the English language to start making up words, you know?”
“You think so?” Derek asks. “Language is supposed to evolve. Did you know the word sexism wasn’t invented until 1965?”
“But sexism makes linguistic sense,” I say. “The fake pronouns just sound weird.”
“Hey, now, lots of people use those,” Derek says.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I know.” Crap. I try to backtrack. “That’s totally cool. I’m all for people using whatever words they want. Maybe I’ll decide to try them at some point.”
“Do you use they?” Pete asks. “That’s what I used to do.”
Hmm. So Pete is somewhere on the trans spectrum, too. Interesting.
Well, probably. Come to think of it, Pete could’ve gone by they and still been cis. That’s almost like what Gretchen does. Except Gretchen only does it for me.
Gretchen. The anxiety flares up in my chest, the way it always does when I think about my girlfriend. We only texted once today, hours ago, about a girl at the middle school where Gretchen volunteers. The girl got in trouble for munching on baby carrots too loudly during church, and she was trying to use that as her key example in a debate speech on government regulation. Gretchen told me the story over text and I sent some laughing emoticons back. We haven’t actually talked talked since the day before yesterday.
That’s my fault. Gretchen sends texts and calls on video chat way more than I do. And sometimes I don’t answer right away.
I want to talk to Gretchen more. It’s just that... I don’t know.
This is all so overwhelming. Being up here, thinking about all this stuff, having conversations like the one I’m having right now.
I need Gretchen more than ever. But I need Gretchen here. With me. Not hundreds of miles away.
“I’ve tried using they,” I tell Pete, “but it always makes me groan a tiny bit inside. I mean, I know there are linguistic justifications for using it as a singular pronoun, and at least they is an actual word, but—”
“You say guy and girl,” Pete says. “I’ve heard you say that. You talk about your girlfriend, too. If you don’t use he or she, why use other gendered language?”
I swallow. I can’t tell if Pete is annoyed at me or just curious. Half the group is looking at me now.
“Yeah, in theory I’d like to stop saying words like girl, too,” I say. “It’s just really tough in practice, you know? Staying away from he and she is hard enough, even though I’m mostly used to it now.”
“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” Across the aisle, Andy’s attention is back on us. So is Eli’s. All the other conversations have ended, and all eyes are on Pete and me.
“Pronouns.” Pete stands up and stretches, smiling down at me in a reassuring way. “Sorry, folks. It’s just yet another conversation about pronouns.”
“We’ve been total jerks, dude,” Derek tells Andy. “It turns out T doesn’t use male pronouns, after all.”
Andy stands up and comes toward us, gripping the pole for balance. Eli slips into the empty seat next to mine.
“Don’t tell me you still use girl pronouns.” Eli’s voice is gentle. “You don’t have to do that. You have us now.”
“Stop, don’t rush him—I mean, don’t rush Toni,” Derek says.
I don’t like Derek talking about me as if I’m not here. Or, worse, as if I’m a kid. Their pet project.
Besides, I hate pronouns. Why do we even need he and she? Neither one feels right. Why can’t everyone just use the same pronouns? Or if they have to be separated into categories—if our language absolutely needs multiple pronouns—why divide them up by gender? It’s so arbitrary. We might as well have different pronouns based on how old you are, or what your favorite color is, or your astrological sign.
Mostly I hate having conversations like this one. I hate having people look at me like I’m crazy for thinking so much about this stuff. I wish I could make up my own language where everything made sense.
“I never use gendered pronouns at all,” I say. “I don’t want to reinforce the gender binary.”
Andy snorts. “Please. Don’t be one of those hypergenderqueer people who’s always ragging on the rest of us for wanting to look like guys.”
“That’s not what Toni said at all,” Derek says. “Relax, dude.”
“I’m just saying, I had to go through a lot of shit to get people to call me he,” Andy tells us. “I don’t need some kid coming in here and deciding I don’t get to just because binaries are evil.”