In a mask, wearing women’s pants, I stop by the tent city across the way from me to drop off some food. A woman asks if I could use my internet to look up some deaf and hearing loss resources for her friend who just had a stroke. Every sentence is thank you Ma’am. If this had been a decade ago, even 5 years ago, I would have had strong emotions about it. 15 years ago I would have been heartbroken or angry. Today, it felt very kind and sweet. There was no statement being made or judgement in her words, just appreciation. The use of honorifics or pronouns had little to do with me. As I wear my “Cinnamon Rolls not Gender Roles” tank top, I am feeling into gender fluidity, gender queerness, and the non-binary experience. At a recent gathering I talked with two non-binary beings, one who used any or all pronouns, and another who used ze/zir as even they/them felt inaccurate to them. My brain joked the genders were yes and no. Yes, I have gender, and no, gender does not apply. 404, no gender found. 15 years since I socially and legally transitioned, and I also recently had someone use my former name. Not mad, just baffled. I don’t consider it my dead name, though she and I had a complex death ritual involving her incarnation into the next part of her path. I consider it my past name, and I used it for much but not all of my first 26 years - but I am approaching 42. Unless I knew you as a child or have not seen or heard about me in 15 years, it’s just baffling. So I sit, or more accurately walk, with these thoughts and think… can my gender simply be cinnamon roll? #Transgender #Genderqueer #CinnamonRollsNotGenderRoles #Nonbinary #FtWtF https://www.instagram.com/p/CUVMCXjgo09/?utm_medium=tumblr