Language is ever evolving. Our ability to shorten sentences to speak less while delivering the same intended message, or to abbreviate common phrases has become the norm (BRB, LOL, IDK) in the world of the internet. In the 21st century, language is being adapted every second with every new technology or application that is created. Do you know what else is becoming the norm? Changing one’s pronoun to fit with their identity. It is becoming so commonplace that Facebook has even altered their site to include fifty possible gender choices.

Let me clarify before I go any further that this is not an article which aims to question the validity of one’s identity (as a cis, straight woman I have been privileged enough to never question my gender or sexuality, or to see them as anything other than normal). So as to avoid any confusion over whether I will be targeting the identity of those within the LGBTQIA+, rest assured (or disappointed, I don’t know who’s reading this), that is not what this is about.

Instead, this is my public apology and plea to those who identify as transgender or trans with an asterisk (trans*).

When I moved to the Bay area, my knowledge of the transgender identity was limited, to say the least. I had a crude, rudimentary understanding that trans people, which differed from cross-dressers and drag queens, were people who were born in the wrong body (which I now know is not right). I also didn’t see anything wrong with trans people and considered myself progressive and an ally. I still consider myself progressive, though apparently not nearly as progressive as I thought. And I still consider myself an ally to the transgender community. However, I was very rudely awakened when I moved to the Bay area by how little I actually knew about transgender people.

I was blindsided during my college orientation with introducing not just my name and intended major, but my “P.G.P.” (Preferred Gender Pronoun, which by the way, took me way longer to figure out that that is what PGP stands for than I’d like to admit).

I had never had to say what my gender was. My cis-privilege had protected me from ever having to publicly announce my identity, and with that protection came a cloak of ignorance. Before having to publicly announce my PGP, I had never thought about the fact that there were a group of people who had to set themselves apart from the “normal people," who had to make a spectacle of themselves, to paint a big red target sign on their body if they wished to be addressed according to their identity. Every time a trans person announces their PGP, they are putting themselves at risk for ridicule or physical harm; this is especially true for those who identify as genderfluid, agender, bigender, gender-non-conforming, gender-non-binary, gender-non-compliant or those who physically do not pass.

I had never had that. And in that space, that presumed safe space where everyone was required to acknowledge something some of us had never even contemplated, I had my first glimpse at the power of language. A word. A descriptor of one’s anatomical sex is somehow more powerful than we, cis individuals, can ever begin to imagine. We are protected by the ignorance caused by our privilege.

I am sorry.

I am sorry that people go through that. That every day you make a choice between your safety and living to be the truest you possible. I am sorry that even in the Bay area, an area historically known for its inclusiveness and acceptance, is still filled with other people whose prejudice leads to pain and suffering. I am sorry for not thinking about how words hurt; simple words or phrases like, “Hey, ladies,” or “Good morning, gentlemen,” can make someone feel invisible. I am sorry that our society conditions us to see gender within a constrictive binary. And most of all, I am sorry that I know I will continue to slip up and be complicit in your pain.

This brings me to my next part, a plea. Please don’t give up on me or those of us who are learning to try and adapt. I know in the future I will slip up and misgender someone. I have accidentally misgendered friends; friends who I knew identified otherwise. I know one day someone will call my name, I won’t be paying attention, and I will respond with, “Yes sir?” Or “No, ma’am.” I know one day I will approach a group of people and say, “How are you guys?” I know I will slip up.

But don’t give up. A year ago I did not even think of these things, and now I do.

Education is everything. Now, when I misgender people, it’s usually using “they/them.” It’s still wrong, but at least it’s wrong and neutral. A year ago, I would not have even considered that. So don’t be lax. Don’t politely hold your tongue, and not remind me when I mess up.

And know that while progress is slow, I can attest, that it does exist. And just like language, progress never truly stops.