By Dan Piraro

(The following article is from my subscription newsletter The Naked Cartoonist. Subscribers receive a new article via email each Friday morning, and this recent one got such a positive response that I’ve been asked to make it available to non-subscribers, too. I also include an audio version for each article. Subscription info.)

Audio produced by Temporary Genius Productions

I successfully raised two children to adulthood who, until recently, I called my daughters. But in the past year, one of them has asked that I not refer to her with terms associated with females. She doesn’t feel that words like “her,” “ma’am,” or “daughter” describe her. In fact, she doesn’t think of herself as a woman and does not like to be referred to as “she.” Her pronouns are “they” and “them.”

I want to respect her their wishes, so I’ve asked how I should refer to her them. Their polite response was, “Call me your kid, your offspring, or just by my name.”

Was this confusing for me? Sure. Did it frighten, disturb, or alarm me? No. They (singular) are still the same person I raised; they’re simply sharing things about themself that have always been true but have gone unrecognized. Isn’t that a good thing?

Unless you’ve just awakened from a coma, you’re likely aware that a movement to bring gender identity issues into the spotlight in the U.S. has been gaining steam. I avoided the word “recently” in that sentence because the countless people who exist outside of social and religious prescriptions for sexual identity and orientation have been struggling to be recognized and included in society for centuries. Millions have been imprisoned, beaten, or killed for it. This is anything but a new issue, and anything but unimportant.

Given the description of my offspring in the first paragraph, you might imagine the person in question to be what some people might refer to as masculine or “butch.” Not at all. The offspring about whom I write is pretty, with big curly hair and a devastatingly charming smile—a person almost no one would spot as not being cisgender. Most people would consider this person a classically beautiful young woman. (But don’t call them that.)

Full disclosure, the offspring in question—whom I’ll call “K” to simplify things a bit—isn’t actually too particular about pronouns and doesn’t mind being referred to as “she, they, or he.” But other queer folk identify with the all-inclusive “they,” and for newbies like me, this can be among the most confusing aspects of the gender identity movement, so I included it in this discussion.

Like it or not, the truth is there has always been a significant percentage of people who do not relate to the gender roles that society, government, and religions expect and sometimes demand. There are a few such people among virtually everyone’s families, friends, and colleagues, and if we’re unaware of them, it is only because they haven’t felt safe telling us. Let that sink in.

K doesn’t see herself as binary. By that, she means that she does not see herself as exclusively female or male, but both. It isn’t one of those “born in the wrong body” situations, it’s a case of not feeling that societal prescriptions and expectations of women fit her. From a traditional standpoint, it’s easy to write that off as ridiculous. But biologically speaking, she’s correct: All humans have hormones of both sexes, and psychologists agree that a well-balanced psyche is in touch with both their male and female sides.

***

You may be thinking, “What’s the big deal? Be whoever you want to be, just leave me out of it.” Fair enough.

But what about this?

Imagine you are living in a society in which your spouse-for-life is chosen by the government, as is your job, where you live, how you dress, and the number of children you must raise. Your assigned spouse turns out to be someone you are utterly not attracted to, but there you both are, sharing a bed in your assigned apartment, being expected to create four children together and raise them to be dutiful citizens who will live under the same oppressive conditions you are enduring. If you are male, you must report to a road crew and work with asphalt every day until retirement. If you are female, you’re required to stay home and raise the children it turned both of your stomachs to create. No other career is allowed.

Sounds like a dystopian science fiction novel or some grim 1950s anti-communist propaganda pamphlet. Now consider that this is how many of our LGBTQ+ family members and neighbors have been living for centuries. Their families’ and communities’ expectations of them did not match their true selves any more than the dystopian example above matches ours.

***

If you’re like me—over fifty and barely aware of the latest cultural trends—you may not be familiar with the term “cisgender.” I wasn’t, so I asked my nonbinary offspring what it meant.

Cisgender describes someone whose gender identity matches their reported sex at birth. If you have indoor plumbing and you are comfortable seeing yourself as a woman, or you have outdoor plumbing and you’ve always seen yourself as a man, you’re cisgender. Statistically, that seems to include most people, but it certainly does not include everyone. And it is important to understand that this is not about sexual orientation.

Cisgender refers to gender identity, not sexual orientation. I am cisgender because I have outdoor plumbing and identify as a man. My orientation is heterosexual (straight) because I am exclusively attracted to the biologically opposite sex. But cisgender persons can be straight, gay, bisexual, asexual, or anything else. So can non-cisgender persons. It may not be “typical,” but neither is it “abnormal.”

My adult child K informed me that she is not cisgender. For thirty-something years I have assumed she was, but come to think of it, we’ve never actually discussed it.

K does not see herself as exclusively female or male, but nonbinary. That’s her gender identity (not orientation) and that’s her reason for preferring not to be referred to as a woman. While her sexual orientation could still be heterosexual, it so happens that it is not. K is “pansexual,” which means that another person’s gender identity or sexual orientation does not figure into the equation. In her words, “What’s in a person’s pants has nothing to do with whether I am attracted to them.” On the conceptual sexual orientation scale I mentioned above, she’s not firmly at one end or the other, but somewhere in the middle.

I used the term “queer folk” above. In general, people outside of social prescriptions regarding sexual identity or orientation often refer to themselves as “queer,” which is one of those words you can use if you belong to that subset but should be careful with if you don’t. K considers herself queer.

I’ll admit I’ve experienced some confusion and frustration over what it is that queer folk are asking for and why. Maybe you have, too. I’m happy to report that my kid helped me see through that fog.

We all want and need to be known by our cohorts. Research tells us that community is essential to happiness and long life; without it, you may as well be living in a cabin in the woods surrounded by booby traps. And how do you form intimate, lasting relationships with any community if you’re pretending to be someone you’re not, like a spy living in a foreign country? Years of this ruse could result in anything from depression to suicide. And it does. This is true for non-heterosexual persons as well as those who are non-cisgender. (And also other minorities, but that’s a broader topic.)

That’s all very interesting, Dan, but why should I care?

Because tending to the health and well-being of any community begins with the health and well-being of its individuals. If your neighbors are disgruntled, it can disturb the peace in your home too, no matter how high your fences.

Cisgender/heterosexual privilege is like White privilege; it is a social default and is mostly invisible to those of us who are accorded it. People glance at me and correctly assume that I am a straight white guy. From my clothing and appearance, they often assume I’m a creative type: artist, musician, writer, whatever. It so happens I’m fine with that, but what if those personality aspects were suspect or illegal, as they commonly are in fascist regimes? What if I could end up in prison for my cartoons or the articles I write? In Today’s Russia, the article you’re reading now might land me in a Siberian work camp, sloshing around in what used to be ice and snow. That happens routinely, all over the world. To even approach a peaceful life, I’d have to pretend to be someone not at all like me. That sounds like as much fun as booby-trapping a cabin in the woods.

True, many people have become more tolerant toward nontraditional lifestyles and orientations in recent decades, and we all know gay and lesbian folks who are out of the closet, but this problem is far from solved.

It is always difficult to fully appreciate the obstacles and discrimination that people who are not us face, but I think most folks whose sexual orientation or gender identity is outside of the approved norms can attest that if you are not a heterosexual, cisgender person, a noticeable percentage of society does not accept you as you are. And knowing that many countries would throw you in jail or execute you for this is not inconsequential simply because you don’t happen to currently live in one of those countries. (At any point in time, you may be one election away from such a barbaric reality.)

This headwind of bigotry forces millions of our friends, neighbors, and family members into a nearly impossible choice: Live a lie, or risk derision, discrimination, disdain, possible violence, and a potential loss of legal rights, as many conservative state legislatures in the U.S. currently support. When you’re not walking on eggshells, you’d be in fight-or-flight mode.

If you agree that people should not have to live in fear of their colleagues and neighbors, it is important to recognize and embrace everyone’s need to be known and accepted as full members of society. Asking people to use more accurate terms for the multitude of orientations and identities that are common among humans won’t solve the larger issue of bigotry, but it is a step in a more inclusive direction and opens the closet door another couple of inches.

I have difficulty understanding how someone can despise another for their personal thoughts, feelings, and desires. Who is injured by anyone else’s self-image or romantic relationships? If there is no victim, where is the crime? I’ve heard extremists say that legally recognizing non-traditional relationships is a short step from allowing people to marry animals. So? Who doesn’t know a few people they’d enjoy hanging out with more often if their spouse was a friendly koala bear rather than the arrogant jerk they’re currently married to?

And for those who use the Bible as an excuse, they may do well to consider that condemnation of alternative sexual orientations or gender identity is not among the Ten Commandments, but not coveting thy neighbor’s wife is. How many of us have been sexually attracted to someone who’s already married? I’d guess that figure is close to 100 percent. And who was it who said, “He who is without sin cast the first stone?” Oh yeah, that guy.

Many people who discriminate based on the “sin excuse” seem to be under the impression that being other than heterosexual and cisgender is a choice. How does a person arrive at that conclusion? Try as I might, I cannot recall the day I decided who I’d be attracted to and how I would feel about my gender identity. There must have been a day when my father sat me down for “the talk” and gave me a copious list of physical, emotional, and personality traits and combinations possible in the human genome, and told me to check the ones that I would decide to associate with myself and decide to become aroused by in others. I assume he then warned me about the boxes that, if checked, would lead to alienation, despair, and violence. How has such an important moment of my adolescence slipped my mind? I certainly remember coveting one of our neighbor’s wives when I saw her at the community swimming pool.

I can object to someone hating, abusing, enslaving, dominating, or discriminating, but not loving. And if my kid would rather be called something other than my “daughter,” how hard is it for me to accommodate? I have a friend who prefers to be called James; only a jackass would insist on calling him “Jim Bob.”

The most I can say about the pronoun thing is that sometimes it can be confusing. I can feel anger over relentless injustice but not over momentary confusion. How can I judge anyone for wanting to be known for who they are?

And should my current (and third!) marriage not work out, where can I find a koala singles’ bar?

***

(For a more extensive glossary of terms on this topic: Human Rights Campaign

***

I come off as a crusader for LGBTQ+ rights in the article above because I am one. But that was not always the case.

When I was growing up in the ‘60s and ‘70s, such people were not only excluded from society, but LGBTQ characters were not even on TV or in movies (that I was allowed to watch) and were never mentioned in casual conversation. Hard as it is to believe, I did not know homosexuality existed until I was a junior in high school in 1974. When I first heard that there were men who preferred to have sex with other men, I did not believe it.

In those days, the context in which they were discussed was always negative, as if such a person were a rare perversion of humanity, someone to be feared and avoided like a serial killer. (This impression did not come from my family, who did not discuss such things, hence my ignorance of the topic.)

When I was in my late teens, gay men would occasionally hit on me, not rudely or offensively, but just wondering if I might be interested in the same things they were. To be honest, it scared the shit out of me. But then, at that point in my sexual development, if an adult woman had hit on me, that would have scared me, too.

As a result of my environment, in my late teens, I was a vocal critic of gay men and occasionally used derisive slang to refer to them, which makes me cringe today.

My first wife immediately cured me of my wrong-headed perspective. Her childhood had been very different, and when we married at age 21, she already had a handful of gay men as close friends. I learned quickly and painlessly that they were neither perverts nor predators, and her friends’ quick wits and alternative approach to traditional American life quickly catapulted them to the top of my list of favorite people to hang out with. In short, I lost my fear and gained respect.

Anyone with a career in the arts will likely meet and work with more LGBTQ folks than one might otherwise. For me, regular exposure over decades has made it clear that our gender identity and sexual orientation are matters of biology, not choice. We’re all somewhere on a sliding scale between heterosexual and homosexual, and every point in between.

My kid’s recent disclosure was not difficult for me in the least. I’ve never worried my kids might be gay, lesbian, trans, or whatever. I hoped they’d not be neurotic, bigoted, judgmental, unbalanced, selfish, or a host of other undesirable traits, but their sexuality never concerned me. If they’re good people and their romantic lives are relatively happy and healthy, I’m cool with that. Their pronouns are their own business, too.