I was visiting my highschool friend in Minneapolis over the break and she was confiding in me some aspects of her personal gender journey. She told me that she was considering switching to she/they pronoun-use, because she feels that aspects of her identity are too constricted by the expectations of females in society. I recalled this conversation during our last class, when we watched the SNL skit “It’s Pat,” and compared it to gender reveal parties.  

Gender reveal parties — much like “It’s Pat” — revolve around a common societal notion that knowing someone’s gender is imperative. On the surface (and from the perspective of someone without an extensive history of gender studies) it makes sense to me how this probably evolved. Language likely plays a big part of it: the English language is one of many languages where the pronouns you use to refer to someone vary based on their gender identity. Gendered language is even more prevalent in other major world languages, such as French and Spanish which adjust adjectives based on a person’s gender, and even assign genders to objects. In this way, the basic desire to communicate with or about someone will quickly prompt the question of someone’s gender identity, and I could see language being one of the driving factors in feeling a universal need to know someone’s gender. However, as was pointed out in class, there is another sociological significance to this urge to know someone’s gender, and it comes from the simple fact that many — I’d even venture to say most — will treat someone differently based on their answer. A pregnant mother who learns she is expecting a girl might go paint the nursery pink or buy baby clothing that includes dresses or hair bows. People often make suggestions to people based on their gender, such as what activities they may be interested in or what career paths to pursue. Visibly, many aspects of navigating everyday society are based on this need 

The statement I made to my friend during our conversation that I have been pondering ever since is this: things like pronouns and gender identification describe how the world interacts with you, rather than a holistic quality of yourself. If I was the only person remaining in the world, I wouldn’t spend any time thinking about what pronouns I use. I don’t even know that I would think much about my gender identity. These conversations only naturally develop at the intersection of your personal life with the externalities of society.

This is where I am finding the paradox. When is gender identification a personal matter, and when is it a public one? To some extent, it appears egregious to expect, or to need, to know someone’s gender identification. It’s far too personal of an issue, and oppression arises when society feels entitled to any amount of it. But in a vacuum, would these concepts have any meaning at all? For something to be truly personal, it seems that it would need to be able to stand alone, to exist within me even if I was the only person on Earth. Granted I will never — or I hope to never — be in this exact situation, and it’s almost impossible to know how I would really act, but the point is that societal pressures play a large enough role in these concepts that I think it’s safe to say they would be largely impacted by the absence of a society. 

This isn’t the first time that I’ve heard talk about certain aspects of gender studies being paradoxical. Especially when the topic of transgender people comes up with my less-than-progressive parents and relatives. A common question is: If progressive movements want to rid the world of gender stereotypes — girls wear pink, boys play sports, etc. — doesn’t transitioning to a different gender oppose that worldview? What does it mean to feel like a boy or a girl, and is there a way to identify that without buying into stereotypes that harm people? If we’re being fully honest, I’m not currently at a point where I can say that I understand how to answer that question. I was lucky enough to identify with the gender I was assigned at birth, and I know that I feel comfortable as a girl, but it’s not easy for me to verbalize this feeling. It’s not that I like wearing dresses or getting manicures or anything like that, in fact I don’t really value those things, but I am still decidedly comfortable with my assigned gender and my femininity. 

Returning to the personal/public paradox of gender identification, the logical conclusion seems be working toward shifting society’s understanding of gender identification so as to mold it into something that can exist without the existence of society. In other words, to solidify gender identity as a fully personal matter. This seems like the only way to truly explore it as a concept which underlies a person rather than a concept which is molded by the people around them.

(Written by Mary Liebig)