Skip to main content

Hello Mx

There can be no doubt that we've made some progress.  There have been significant shifts in the media portrayal of those who identify as sitting somewhere above or beyond the gender binary.  I was reminded of this at a conference organised and attended by those interested in supporting those for whom the trans* identity appeals. 
 
For far too long, those of us who did not subscribe to, or comfortably fit into, the boxes hitherto afforded to us have been pathologised as deluded or perverted.  It is no longer inconceivable to have experiences that validate, or even honour an alternative identity. 
 
Gender is the poetry each of us makes out of the language we are taught.
Leslie Feinberg, Trans Liberation: Between Pink or Blue
 
 
Gender is, after all, what resides between your ears, not your legs.  It is not fixed and can be fluid.  It might be best regarded as a relationship.  And, for some, may be the journey of a life time.  It has, I think, very little, if anything, to do with anatomy or physicality.  Though these can make gender far more straightforward...
 
Identity and expression are two very different things.  And this is where there is still an enormous amount of awareness raising to be done.  We assume too much, and do so far too quickly. 
 
The first question we usually ask new parents is: 'is it a boy or a girl?' 
There is a great answer to that one: 'We don't know; it hasn't told us yet.' 
Personally, I don't think any question containing an either/or deserves a serious answer, and that includes the question of gender. 
Kate Bornstein, Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women and the rest of us
 
 
Please don't call me 'Sir'.  Thank you for not calling me 'Madam'.  Gendered forms of address are rarely necessary, and carry with them an inherent risk.  I look forward to the day when we have a greater opportunity to self select our title, and to a time where this preference might be regarded as flexible as it truly is.  Hello 'Mx'.
 
As far as I'm concerned, being any gender is a drag.
Patti Smith
 
 
The soul has no gender.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
 
 
 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Table. Apple. Penny.

Whilst there were several places I might have been that morning, I wouldn't have been anywhere else.  The practitioner from the Memory Service arrived promptly.  I liked her instantly.    Mum was nervous.  I think I was a little, too.  It's been a difficult year.   "It's Friday, it's the fourteenth of December and I'm at home..."   No problems there.  CAMCOG, or the Cambridge Cognitive Examination is a thorough assessment tool used to assess the extent of extent of dementia, and to assess the level of cognitive impairment.  The standardised  measure assesses orientation, language, memory, praxis, attention, abstract thinking, perception and calculation.    "Table.  Apple.  Penny."   Three everyday items that were introduced at one point, and then referred to again later on.  Again, Mum was able to recall each.      I am reminded that the...

Glass half full? Glass half empty? Or perhaps the glass is broken

I am, constitutionally, a glass half empty gal.  I will always first acknowledge what I don't have, what I have lost, and what it is that I am seeking.  I tend to overlook my strengths, concentrating only on those bits of me that are underdeveloped or weak.  I refer to myself as a realist, but in doing so compliment myself and insult those who genuinely are simply realistic.  My modus operandi is to identify what's not working and acknowledge this before seeing more clearly what functions perfectly well.  This has its place: I edit others' written work pretty well.  My fastidious attention to detail serves me, and the author.  Accuracy counts, for me and I have an excellent memory.  I can remember a great many of my sessions with clients verbatim.  Even this asset is something I can, and do, diminish the true value of, by concentrating on 'I should have said...' or 'why didn't....  occur to me during the session?' Earlier this we...

Pausing in the sunshine

And so, chemo is over.  My best friend's diary has been chocker...  Line cleans, blood tests, scans and 18 weekly doses of the gruelling treatment itself.  Summer seems at last to have arrived and with it, we hope, some time, peace and space. She is, we acknowledged over a rather yummy luncheon served to us beneath the beautiful canopy of creepers and climbers at Petersham Nurseries, an inspiration. A small group of us gathered to celebrate her forthcoming marriage.  The sun's rays joined the warmth we all have for this very special woman.  Warmth and, in my case at least, pride. It is the greatest privilege to call this woman my best friend.  She continues to epitomise my understanding of grace.  Our bodies are fragile things.  Our minds are frailer still.  In her composure and wisdom, she possesses an outlook I can only aspire to adopt.  From you, dear Charlotte, I learn and I learn and I learn.   The ...