It will happen, Robin. It's a wonderful feeling, too. I can no longer think of the times I was referred to as someone else. I don't even remember the last time it happened without being misgendered on purpose. That only happens with my family, and I can't even remember the last time. They've all been retrained by me or aren't a part of my life.
Being called the right way is a source of pride. It was me all along. Come ride with me, dude. That's what you really need is an outrageous hombre like me in your court. I'll take you to hang with me and my boys. If you're shy, oh well. You'll just have to feel embarrassed, because I found my voice and I'm keeping it!! 😛😂😆😂
Your pulse lives in this piece. I felt it—like a quiet rhythm that has always been there, even when others pretended it wasn’t. The way you describe that moment of hearing “him,” of catching it mid-air and wondering if the world really meant you this time—I’ve known that flicker, that near disbelief.
I keep thinking about what Jon Kabat Zinn said to me just yesterday when I shared my story with him:
"Not being seen is one of the most violent things that people can do to each other. And then, of course, being called names or ostracized or othered and the language that’s often used for that."
Those words stayed with me. Your piece pulses with that truth. The ache of being unseen, then startled into visibility by a word that finally fits. And still, the nervous system asks: Is this real? Is this safe? Can I trust this rhythm?
What I sense in your voice is something I’ve known in my own marrow—a kind of tender defiance. You keep showing up. You let your pronouns ring like tuning forks through spaces that once denied your frequency. And even when the pulse stutters, you hold the beat.
I'm standing with you in that quiet waiting. You are seen. And the sound of “him” spoken with love? It is you. Already. Always.
“that jolting, electric wrongness” - WOW. That phrase gets this cis het woman as close to understanding the feeling of being misgendered as anything ever could. So powerful.
It will happen, Robin. It's a wonderful feeling, too. I can no longer think of the times I was referred to as someone else. I don't even remember the last time it happened without being misgendered on purpose. That only happens with my family, and I can't even remember the last time. They've all been retrained by me or aren't a part of my life.
Being called the right way is a source of pride. It was me all along. Come ride with me, dude. That's what you really need is an outrageous hombre like me in your court. I'll take you to hang with me and my boys. If you're shy, oh well. You'll just have to feel embarrassed, because I found my voice and I'm keeping it!! 😛😂😆😂
Beautiful. Isn't it wonderful when people respect our reality? Love this. xo
Robin,
Your pulse lives in this piece. I felt it—like a quiet rhythm that has always been there, even when others pretended it wasn’t. The way you describe that moment of hearing “him,” of catching it mid-air and wondering if the world really meant you this time—I’ve known that flicker, that near disbelief.
I keep thinking about what Jon Kabat Zinn said to me just yesterday when I shared my story with him:
"Not being seen is one of the most violent things that people can do to each other. And then, of course, being called names or ostracized or othered and the language that’s often used for that."
Those words stayed with me. Your piece pulses with that truth. The ache of being unseen, then startled into visibility by a word that finally fits. And still, the nervous system asks: Is this real? Is this safe? Can I trust this rhythm?
What I sense in your voice is something I’ve known in my own marrow—a kind of tender defiance. You keep showing up. You let your pronouns ring like tuning forks through spaces that once denied your frequency. And even when the pulse stutters, you hold the beat.
I'm standing with you in that quiet waiting. You are seen. And the sound of “him” spoken with love? It is you. Already. Always.
“that jolting, electric wrongness” - WOW. That phrase gets this cis het woman as close to understanding the feeling of being misgendered as anything ever could. So powerful.
Thanks! Nice to see you out in nature!