I went back and forth on whether to post this because I was angry, and frankly still am, about this.
Earlier, someone posted this little article from Dictionary.com about use of singular they. Now, this isn’t the fault of Dictionary.com. It’s actually a nice, useful little snippet on a site devoted to telling us how to use words. It’s pretty mild, as grammar tools go, and it’s nice to see a mainstream site with a simple explanation about why it’s no biggie. Kudos, Dictionary.com!
The problem was more the sharing of it. When someone who does not use singular they as a personal pronoun shares such a thing, declaring their “support” for it, that’s wide permission for people to come along and throw in their two cents. And that is simply not necessary, especially in a group full of queer people, many of whom currently use or formerly used singular they.
When well-meaning cisgender (and occasionally other binary gender folks) share this stuff, they usually mean it as solidarity. The problem is, it comes off as patting us on the head and declaring us legit. Newsflash: we already know we’re legit, and the pronouns we go by reflect that.
The second problem is that these well-meaning cisgender (and occasionally other binary gender folks) almost never know what to do with the people who argue about it. The ones who say they are “old school” or it’s “too hard” to remember to use the right pronouns or who say it’s “confusing” when they read it in a book.
(That last one makes me want to throw things. A person can read a book with two same gender people getting in a romantic relationship and not get confused on which he or she is which, but they find they confusing? Nah. Unless a book is badly written, it’s clear when they refers to one person or many.)
Listen up, well-meaning binary gender folks: Don’t post this stuff unless you are prepared to take on the Grammar Cops who come to explain why they can’t or won’t learn. Be there for us. Educate your own. Because otherwise, you are continually exposing non-binary people to this sharp edge and expecting us to both bandage our own wounds and then explain why it hurts to your friends and followers. If you can’t stand up for us, then do us the favor of having these conversations in private among yourselves.
Here’s the thing about why cycling through these conversations hurts. There is a specific type of antagonism reserved for non-binary people, and the refusal to accept and use our pronouns—whether we use singular they or other pronouns—is part of it. (Not all, but that’s a post for another time.) Singular they grates on people not because they can’t adapt but because adapting means learning that you do not need everyone to fit into boxes labeled he and she.
I’ve heard some people say things like, “We need a special singular pronoun like they have in other languages!” Except…we do. We have a perfectly legitimate, long-standing set of neutral pronouns. We use them all the time when a person’s gender is unknown, often without thinking. It’s only when we are forced to acknowledge that someone’s gender isn’t binary that we get nervous and uncomfortable using them.
Think about this: I’ve used one form or another of they (both singular and plural) all through this post. Were you bothered by it? Did you even notice?
Today is the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, and Transphobia. I’m participating in a blog hop for equality and awareness, plus I’m giving something away for free! (Stay tuned.) Here’s the official site for the hop: 
There are people who might want to know why I use the term bisexual. For me, it’s political: it’s an alignment with a movement and a community. I don’t feel that the word is limiting in describing my orientation, and this definition from the wonderful 
As for gender, that’s a whole story in itself. I’ve never identified with womanhood or what I sensed that should be. It’s not about femininity; it’s something different, deeper. I don’t know what to call it. Some might suggest I’m gender fluid or another specific word, but I’ve never found one I like. So I simply leave it as “my gender is me.” Unlike many trans folk, I don’t have a set pronoun preference. I don’t object to she/her, mainly because I don’t think male should be the default and because sometimes it’s safer not to correct people (hey there, bathroom bill, I see you). I like they because sometimes my gender feels like a whole other person. When I write, I usually use other neutral pronouns (typically ze/hir) because when you write about relationships, it can be tricky to write they as both singular and plural and not get confused (your mileage may vary on that one). The only ones I don’t like are he/him. But no one has ever used those on me, so I think we’re good.
