It’s a simple idea: how we refer to someone makes a world of difference.
Is your friend “Tommy,” “Thomas,” or “Thomasina”? Consistently choose the wrong one, and that friendship could be over.
My brother tells the story of a college friend who gladly was known as “Sh*thead,” and would happily respond to anyone yelling “Hey, Sh*thead!” from across the quad. Try that with me, and I won’t even look around. (I keep my head down, most of the time. Others would be more, shall we say, vociferous in their response.)
I know, this is all grade school stuff. Easy. Obvious.
For some, gender seems to make things harder, but there’s no reason it should. Referring to someone by the pronouns they identify with is a sign of respect, and a sign of welcome.
Please notice that I didn’t say “the pronouns they choose.” Just as sexuality isn’t a choice, gender identity is no choice. No one chooses to be clinically depressed and suicidal by 13 years old because they feel excluded by the gender label they’ve been assigned.
When you meet someone, and they say they’re Thomasina, you call them Thomasina.
And notice, too, how easy it is to understand that the previous sentences refer to “they” as a single person.
Choosing deliberately not to use the pronouns someone uses is the same as choosing to call them by the wrong name. Mrs. Biden has earned her doctorate, so she is correctly called Dr. Biden.
My friend’s child who was assigned male and has come out as trans is now correctly called “she.” It’s a sign of respect, of welcome, of inclusion, of support.
I didn’t have to walk the hard road she did to become the authentic person she now is. The least I can do is speak to (and of) her with respect.
I’m over 50 and have learned to use language differently than I used to. So can you.