On Misgendering

A quick note on why we do it, why they do it, and why we shouldn’t stop.

I’ve noticed a pattern lately. Trans activists, in trying to disrespect or insult an opponent, frequently misgender them. “You look like a freaking man.” “Why does HE think he can speak on this?” “That’s a lot to unpack from the gentleman.”

Misgendering is the act of using accurate-sex pronouns to refer to someone rather than their preferred gender-swapped ones. (Though even the concept of pronouns as “preferred” has seen a fair bit of discourse lately, with viral TikToks proclaiming ‘my pronouns are not preferred, they are mandatory.’) Intentional misgendering is considered a mortal sin in trans circles, often equated to physical violence or framed as a hate crime.

Despite this, many TRAs engage in intentional misgendering of their enemies. To these activists, incorrectly identifying someone—especially as male when the opponent is female—is seen as the ultimate own. The logic seems to go beyond merely “let’s see how you like it”, and veer instead into even stranger territory—where being a man is distasteful, shameful, and even repulsive.

It’s long been noted that women bear the brunt of the backlash when it comes to dissenting from gender ideology. Men who misgender, deadname, and the like are typically met with far less vitriol than women who do the same. Similar rules apply in the realm of dating. Both men and women reject the trans-identified as potential partners, yet only women have disgusting workshops devoted to breaking down their sexual barriers and coercing them into having sex with trans-identified men. Only women are labeled as TERFs, fascists, or ‘genital fetishists’ (a personal favorite) for refusing trans partners.

So when women step out of line to correctly identify trans women (men), TRAs respond in kind, calling their opponent a man, referring to her with male pronouns, and calling into question her femininity. Perhaps because being a man is so undesirable, so unfathomable to these men, being called one must be the ultimate insult. If only they could man-up and learn to love themselves. 

A similar line of attack is to compare a gender critical woman to a trans woman, or to tell her she looks transgender. Again, this is used as an insult by trans activists. The very thing they are—supposedly a delicate, special protected class which can do no wrong—is thrown around as an insult. It’s also a sort of tacit admission that trans women are really men. 

Long ago, before the topic was as politicized as it is now, feminine transsexuals used to gather in online forums and post pictures of themselves, waiting to be attacked, dragged, and denigrated for their looks. The denigration wasn’t some form of masochism, but a mechanism with which to become more female. Though the comments came in the form of insults—you look so manish, your eyebrows are bushy, your mits are huge—they were actually beauty tips, actionable advice, transition motivation. 

Present day trans activists, when degrading the femininity of gender critical women, are engaging in a similar kind of harassment. In essence, these attacks are a stratagem to shame women into being more female, i.e. submissive and malleable to the will of men. By denying women’s claim to a female identity, trans activists have made womanhood into a kind of social capital which can be wielded, dealt out, and taken away, rather than the biological reality that it is. And if femaleness is all performativity, all fake tits and folding laundry, then any woman who doesn’t align herself to the male will is, in effect, un-woman. 

I used to use preferred pronouns, too. I thought I was being polite. I thought referring to someone as a man was rude—even if they were one. I now find that ridiculous. How is refusing to play along with someone’s fetish or fantasy rude? Finally allowing myself to refer to the men in bad makeup and worse wigs as the men they are has been a cathartic experience—a release of gendered expectations to play along, be kind, show some empathy. I no longer feel as though I have to play along—and what a relief it’s been.

Thanks for reading!

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