A couple of weeks ago I got an email from a young woman, a college student, who claimed that her professor had assigned her entire class a special little assignment, for extra credits, for students who could track down my legal name and bring it to class. This young woman had tried and tried, she said, to find it online, but couldn’t, and she really wanted those extra marks. Would I be so kind as to just tell her?
I took a deep breath. I was flabbergasted, skin crawling with chill fingers at how totally creepy this felt, an entire college English or writing or queer studies or whatever class assigned the task of violating my privacy for extra credit at school.
Exactly what educational or literary purpose could my legal name serve, anyway? Jesus, I thought, I need to find out who this professor is and write him or her a carefully worded yet very stern letter. So I wrote the student back, politely asking for her prof’s name, the class number and the name of the college she attends. I did not, of course, answer her question.
I have written her twice now, and my cyber-savvy buddy has possibly tracked down the kid’s school, if she indeed attends the college whose pink hoodie she was sporting in her Facebook profile picture, and I have written an instructor there who very well might be said professor but have yet to hear back from anybody.
This leaves me frustrated, and feeling violated, and worried that this will happen all over again this semester, that I will get a new crop of letters from eager students asking me about my legal name.
For those people who use their legal name and have never had any dissonance in their head or life with the name given to them at birth versus the name that feels like their name, well, I am glad for you, I really am. It must be fantastic to have all your ID match your face and your gender and your tits and your birth certificate and what the border guard sees when he looks at you and decides whether or not to let you on the plane. You are lucky.
I am not one of those people. I don’t like my legal name, first or last; it doesn’t suit me, it never fit, and what is more, I never really knew the man who I got it from, my grandfather, and the few times I did spend any time with him, I didn’t like him much. He died when I was 21. I think I met him about three times in my entire life.
I changed my name in 1990. That was 22 years ago. Some of my family still call me by my birth name, and I let them do this only because they are my family. I cash cheques and do business and perform and publish and live and fuck and talk to my neighbours as Ivan. Because this is my name. It feels good to be called who I am.
A couple of months ago my friend and collaborator Elisha Lim (they drew the book covers for Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme
and for One in Every Crowd
, my latest two books) was approached by Xtra
to do an interview about their work. Elisha prefers to use “they” as a pronoun. Many of my friends do. Xtra
, much to my chagrin and embarrassment, refused to honour this seemingly simple request, citing grammar considerations and awkward language concerns, I believe.
I was mortified that the paper I have been writing this column for since 2001 (that’s right, 11 years) would not honour my trans friend’s simple request to be referred to by their choice of pronoun. I had a long chat on the phone with my editor. She heard me out, but nothing changed. I kept writing my column. I had to. I keep my promises. I do what I say I am going to do with my writing commitments. I am a professional. I needed the money.
Then last week my other buddy and collaborator Rae Spoon, who I regularly play, tour, write and record with, wrote a blog post about how they recently turned down a full-colour cover and article with Xtra
Ottawa, over concerns that the paper would not respect Rae’s pronoun choice as well, which also happens to be they. I have included the links to both Elisha's
posts about how this feels, so folks can check them out.
I humbly request that Xtra
do some serious thinking about what it means for a queer paper to refuse to honour such a fundamentally basic issue so important to many of its readers, or potential readers. All of its trans, gender non-conforming, gender-queer readers and all of our many allies. Call us what we wish to be called.
And in case you are still considering calling upon rules of proper grammar to justify ignoring our need to be seen and respected for exactly who and what we are, well, my lovely wife has prepared a fairly comprehensive reading list
of reference materials proving that not only is it perfectly correct to use “they” as a singular pronoun in the English language, it was first done in the 16th century. My wife is my favourite ally of them all.
, it is too late for you to lead the way on this issue, but you still have an opportunity to step up and be a better and more accurate and diverse voice for the true GLBTTQQI communities that seek to find information and support and recognition in your pages. Please, this is not a complaint. It is an opportunity. An opportunity for you to make this paper better. More diverse, more trans-inclusive, more relevant, more courageous, more real, more truly queer. Call us what we want to be called. Be a part of changing our language to better reflect the world that uses it to communicate. Make me proud. Proud enough to keep on writing here for another 11 years.