I am not male. I am not female. I am genderqueer.
You would think that wouldn’t be so difficult for so-called trans-positive people to understand.
Oh, sure, they don’t look at my tits and my vulva and assume I’m a woman. Instead, they look at them and assume I’m a dude! Yaaaaay! Do you want a cookie for being a Super Awesome Trans Ally? Shall I throw you a parade?
Not male! Not female! Neither! None! None of the above! Why is this so difficult for some people to understand?
Calling me male (oh, sorry, male-identified) is misgendering me. It’s not somehow not misgendering me because it’s a different kind of misgendering me than most people do.
(…Also wtf “male-identified.” First, that’s fucking redundant, if you’re in a trans-positive space everyone knows “male” means “identifies as male,” you don’t need the extra word. Second, fuck you, I don’t identify as male. I have never identified as male. The word “identified” is a paper-thin figleaf over your binarist bullshit.)
Now, you might say, my social position is male. After all, no one is read as genderqueer; we have to go through a rather long and annoying process of explaining what we are, and even then half the people will slot you in as “basically a lady” or “basically a dude.” So maybe I’m treated like a man most of the time!
Except you’re still wrong there.
Like a lot of (most?) genderqueer people, my gendered social position is complicated. I am usually initially read as a teenage boy, possibly queer, except inexplicably in geek-heavy spaces where I’m always read as female. When I open my mouth, I’m read as a gender-non-conforming woman. For school, work, and family purposes, I present as a cis woman. All my current romantic/sexual relationships are with straight cis men. Online, “genderqueer” seems to round to “male,” which means no one calls me ugly anymore. (Sadface.) My friends consider me genderqueer (thanks, guys, you’re awesome).
You might notice a couple words getting repeated there like “woman” and “female.” Juuuuust saying.
I don’t want to say that I have never received male privilege– of course I have. The freedom from sexual harassment is particularly nice. And I cannot overestimate how much easier my life is because I’m not a recipient of transmisogyny. But I don’t see how any of that justifies calling me male-identified! Because, you know, I don’t identify as male. So fuck off.