Title:

A Call for Comfort: Navigating Gender Expression and Belonging

Growing up, I often looked like a boy. I had short hair, preferred blue over pink, and often chose athletic wear. Wearing my brother’s hand-me-downs didn’t affect me much on the ski slopes. The lift operator would use he/his pronouns, and I didn’t really care. Whatever, I thought to myself.

One of the best and worst days of my life was when I participated in a fundraiser for diabetes with my family at about 10 years old. Several Denver Broncos players were at the event, and they held a kick, pass, and punt contest. I won for my age group. I felt on top of the world—my athletic ability, my love of sports, and the fact that I was wearing running shoes and athletic shorts allowed me to win. I was given a football signed by all the players, which I still have, along with a huge love for the Denver Broncos.

The same day, we stopped by the mall on the way home. I had to pee really badly. We went into JC Penney’s, and my mom headed off to run her errands. I looked all over for the restroom and couldn’t find it. I asked my brothers for help. I mustered up the courage and asked the salesperson where I could find the restroom. I followed the directions, which led me to the boys’ bathroom. My brothers went in and assured me there was no one else inside. They held the door open and came in with me. Despite needing to go badly, I couldn’t use the boys’ bathroom. I just couldn’t.

I went back to the same lady and asked her where I could find the girls’ bathroom. She gave me an entirely different set of directions. On the elevator downstairs to the women’s restroom, I wet my pants. I was so humiliated. I can still remember the look on the lady’s face who was with me in the elevator. That memory is a scar I carry alongside the football from that day.

Most of the time, I walked close enough to the “girl” line that my pronouns weren’t misused, or I wasn’t given directions to the wrong bathroom. I buried this memory until my kid came home after the first few days at a new school, saying the girls were whispering when she went into the girls’ bathroom. My kid presents as a boy; the he/him pronouns are incorrectly used all the time. We’ve been told not to correct people, so it’s no big deal.

But now, my kid is in the girls’ bathroom, looking like a boy. The girls are worried there’s a boy in the bathroom, and they whisper. My kid feels this whispering and comes home upset, crying themselves to sleep. We talked to the school, and it was handled better than I could have imagined. Everyone knows she is a girl now, and the issue is solved. Until we head to a new part of town for soccer camp.

After three days of my kid not drinking any water after playing soccer all day, I found out they were scared and confused about the bathroom situation. The issue hasn’t been worked out here, so do they use the girls’ and make others uncomfortable, or do they use the boys’ and make themselves uncomfortable? Who gets injured from this? In new spaces, my kid doesn’t want to use the bathroom. They try to hold it until they get home. Why? Because they don’t want to be singled out, make anyone else uncomfortable, or have to put themselves in a box of boy or girl that doesn’t fit every time they just need to pee.

I felt this once in my life and still carry the scar. This is a daily occurrence for my kid. The highlight of music camp this year? A gender-neutral bathroom. I’m not kidding. This was the highlight of camp, even more than the candy vending machine. This was huge.

I’ve recently come out as queer in my late 40s. When I shared my new love with anyone in my life, whether close, work-related, or beyond, I had to come out of the closet. I had to share that I now identified as lesbian and brace for their uncomfortable reaction. I had to do this every single time I shared the news of my new love. It’s hard, scary, and uncomfortable. At almost 50 years old, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Every time a pronoun is used, my kid is outed. Every time they need to pee, their gender identity is outed. What happens when your gender identity doesn’t match your gender expression? You get outed all the time, every single day. This is painful, scary, and lonely. Many of our nonbinary and LGBTQ youth and individuals are choosing suicide rather than walking this road. Death is preferred over this hell.

Can we all try to make the road a bit smoother? Can you try asking about pronouns before assuming? Yes, it may be uncomfortable. I’m asking you to get a little uncomfortable so our kids can find a small space to experience a bit of the comfort we take for granted all the time. Can we advocate for gender-neutral bathrooms? Can we step back from the gender boxes just a step or two? Could we wear a pride flag pin? Could we ask questions? Could we get curious?

Our kids are walking through hell every day. Could we risk getting a bit uncomfortable to make their journey a little easier?