Doing Better With Gender

I was traveling recently with a friend—let’s call her Amelia—who was misgendered at least twice during our four-hour trip. 

The first time was by the gate agent in Boston, who politely said, “You can proceed, sir.” 

Amelia turned, smiled, and said, “Thank you!” in a friendly, feminine-sounding voice. 

I saw the look of surprise on the gate agent’s face before we moved on. 

Amelia’s pronouns are she/her/hers. She’s tall and fit. From a distance, when she’s wearing a baseball cap, I could see how someone might not be sure of her gender.

Amelia took that and the next occasion in stride, maintaining her cheerful demeanor. And I have no doubt that the gate agent intended to be polite. But I couldn’t help but think that being misgendered must get old. Don’t we all want to be seen for who we are?

I checked in with Amelia. She said yes—and: “It’s usually people like me, who don’t fit in a box, who run into this issue. But the truth is that you shouldn’t make assumptions about anyone, even if you think you know their gender from looking at them.” 

It got me thinking about how we can do better. What could we all say to avoid misgendering someone in the first place? And how can we respond when we make a mistake? 

A few suggestions:

• Remind yourself not to make assumptions. Your perception might not align with how someone self-identifies. You don’t know someone’s gender until they tell you.

• Drop the honorifics like sir, ma’am, Mr., and Mrs. The whole point of an honorific is to be polite and show respect—but misgendering someone has the opposite impact. Let go of this linguistic habit. Instead of “Thank you ma’am,” say “Thank you;” instead of “You can proceed, sir,” just say, “You can proceed,” with a smile.

• If someone tells you that you’ve made a mistake, a simple, sincere apology is ideal. “I’m sorry” works well. “Thank you for correcting me” is also a nice way to go. Don’t make it worse by trying to explain your intent or otherwise making a big deal of it. Whatever you do, no tears in front of them! The person you misgendered should not have to take care of you.

• If it happens with someone you know or see frequently, you can add, “It won’t happen again” or “I will do better” to your “I’m sorry.” Make that commitment, and mean it.

• If you think you’ve made a mistake but the person hasn’t corrected you, don’t try to fix it with another assumption; you might make it worse.

Amelia looks at the big picture: “If we could all make a shift to not assume, the world would be a safer, more comfortable place for everyone,” she told me. “Rethinking our use of pronouns is like placing a ramp or an elevator in a public space. It’s inclusive and considerate—without taking anything away from people who use the stairs without thinking about it.”

The way I put it? This has nothing to do with political correctness. It’s about showing another human being respect. 

Diversity Outdoors

My friend and I (both Black) have been hiking in the White Mountains of New Hampshire for about 10 years—and they have lived up to their name.

We would almost never see any other people of color there.

But we’ve noticed that changing. 

When we hiked there earlier this month, the diversity of the humans was as striking as the range of plants and trees. As we headed up the trail, we were passed by an after-school program from Fall River, MA with a group of young teenagers from a range of races. Most of them were having a good time.

(The one bringing up the rear responded to my “Are you having fun yet?” with a miserable “No”...Winter hiking isn’t fun for everyone.) 

A group with a range of physical abilities was moving up the mountain on sleds. And some people I thought maybe had some neuro-divergence shared a friendly chat.

All that on one slope, in under two hours. 

The view at the top was just amazing. So was the vision of accessibility. 

Even more surprising was the change in my next winter outdoor tradition: the annual Mount Washington Valley Icefest in North Conway, NH.

Ice climbing has typically been a straight white male pastime; I nearly fell on my face the first time I saw another Black ice climber. But last year they began offering clinics specifically for BIPOC and LGBTQ people. 

I could already tell it was making an impact. At the evening event, the speakers shared their passion for climbing and being outdoors while representing a range of ethnicities, pronouns, hairstyles, and ages. 

As did the audience. The age range was broad. Some people had to be 70—they’d been climbing before it was popular—and I heard a baby crying. I gotta admit, it was nice to look around and see several Black faces. 

Diversity and accessibility matter. One of the speakers, Alexis Krauss, talked about Rise Outside and Kinship Climbing Collective, which help get young people in the city into the outdoors. You might think, what’s the big deal? Not everybody gets to go hiking. But she illustrated the equity implications. She shared research showing that spending time outdoors is good for our physical and mental health. If you’re growing up in the city, it’s hard to get to the places where sky and greenery replace concrete, glass, and asphalt. Not to mention the expense of equipment and time away from jobs. 

I am lucky to be able to experience nature where I live, so I know how restorative it is. It was extra refreshing to me this year to be in a space that had been so homogeneous and has become more open. That only happened because the organizers were thoughtful and intelligent about it, from the affinity-based clinics to the choices about who to include among the speakers. 

Amid all the pushback and doubts, remember: when organizations make real effort, change is possible.

And everyone wins. The crowd still heard a presentation from two white guys, showing slides from their incredible climbs around the world. 

Now they had a more diverse audience cheering them on.

Racial Denialism

Someone once said this to me:

“I don’t think of you as Black.”

I honestly think they were trying to say something positive. But it felt like an insult.

What I heard was:

“I don’t think of you as like them.”

Which implies that Black people are not as good.

Or maybe, “I think of you as normal.”

Because it is abnormal to be Black?

Or, “I think of you as white.”

Hmmm.

Comments like these fit into the color-blind category. “I don’t see color.” “I don’t care if you’re black, white, green, or purple.” “Why do we have to categorize people? Just treat everyone the same.” 

Even though the problems with this approach have been pointed out countless times, it still seems to be a popular philosophy. Some folks justify their belief by quoting MLK. His famous speech about systemic racial discrimination in employment and civic life included a touching passage about children playing—which ended up being the most quoted part.

Yes, Dr. King had a dream that one day people would be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. It was a vision of a future when we have fully liberated society. When racial categories would be less important because they didn’t play a major role in our opportunities. 

Half a century later, we haven’t reached that promised land. And, even in the dream, Dr. King didn’t say we wouldn’t notice color. 

That would be impossible. We see differences naturally, and we assign meaning to those differences based on what we observe other people doing and saying. 

Advocates of “colorblind” approaches believe that overcoming these biases is as simple as denying them. But research shows that pretending to be color-blind makes our individual biases worse. 

Besides, I like being a Black woman. I’m not ashamed. I want people to see my wholeness: my politics, my gender, my Jamaican background. I’m okay with you taking in all of who I am when you interact with me.

What I don’t like is being treated unfairly. The best way to prevent that is addressing inequitable systems. 

I don’t want someone to hold me back on the basis of my race. But I do want people to see it.