On Friday I posted a short reel on Instagram where I just stated my name, pronouns and language that I like to use.

For those who don't know, I'm non-binary, and pansexual. I go by they/them, or she/her pronouns. I identify and like the term 'woman', but not 'lady', or 'girl'.

It was a pretty simple reel, less than thirty seconds, and it got a lot of hate. The first comment was 'Just asking as you suggested...what was the purpose of this video?'.

That wasn't the hate comment, but there were a few wondering what the point in me posting was, and I've been thinking about it a lot.

When I was growing up, there wasn't really very much queer representation. I didn't even know that the terms non-binary or pansexual existed. I thought, me not fitting into existing mold of straight, cis person meant there was something wrong with me.

I really struggled trying to figure out my sexuality most of high-school, feeling so confused and like I didn't quite fit in anywhere. Finding the terms felt revolutionary, as was seeing more representation. I felt like an impostor for years and years, even after I had come out as pansexual, I felt like I couldn't go to pride parades, or call myself 'queer' because I wasn't queer enough. I felt like an outcast.

Language is important, it impacts our feelings of safety both in our body and out. The language we decide to use to describe ourselves with gives us power, gives us place, it can even help us have compassion for ourselves.

Emotional & phycological abuse was one of the types of abuse I grew up with, so the impact of language is something I'm familiar with. Language was a weapon used against me day in and day out. Words rocked the foundation I stood on, threatening to collapse the world around me if I breathed wrong. Words did that, as much as we think 'sticks and stones can break my bones but words can't hurt me' it's not true at all. (I don't think that's how that phrase goes, but that's the idea of it). I know first hand the impact of a safe person, and a safe space and they saved my life.

Okay, so why am I telling you this? To really make the point that words matter.

When I realized that I was a survivor of abuse, when I could use that language with myself, my perspective changed forever. I wasn't broken, or a mistake, or worthless like I'd been taught, it wasn't my fault, I didn't do anything wrong. Words broke down all the accusations and blame they had given me for years. They helped me to have more empathy for myself, forgive myself & ask for help. They gave me hope for better relationships.

When I realized that I was pansexual, the very first time I heard that term, I felt a little more of that foundation set into place. Like ah, this is becoming a home, not just a body.

The same thing happened when I finally could identify as non-binary.

Ah, this feels more like home.

Did you know that using someone's pronouns & chosen name has been scientifically linked to a reduction in depression symptoms, suicidal ideation & behaviour among transgender youth?

Or that queer youth who report having at least one supportive adult in their life were 40% less likely to attempt suicide the following year?

That's the power of language. It matters, and it's power is fucking massive. And when we can reduce the likelihood of someone committing suicide by 40% by using the right language, showing support and listening, why the fuck wouldn't we?

So, what's the point in me sharing my pronouns and language?
To normalize it.
To increase non-binary and queer representation.
To educate how to ask for pronouns, and that each non-binary person may identify differently and use different language.
To exist, as a queer person, that's enough of a reason right there. I'm allowed to exist.

I won't write the hate comments here, but there were a surprising number of them, including name calling & just homophobic assholes doing what they do best. They don't really bother me, besides just being draining. Being reminded that those people exist is tiring. I was really lucky and supported though. I did a call out for help as soon as they started increasing, and asked folx to comment to flood out the haters. I had people dm me saying 'you go ahead and ignore instagram for a while, I got this, I got you'. Holy shit, that support was powerful.

To me, it felt like a powerful message, and reminder, that yes there are assholes out there, but there are also people who are fiercely interested in keeping you safe. There are people who will stand beside you, or with you, reminding you that it's okay to exist in your queer body.

And if your queer body doesn't feel safe to exist in yet, we will be here with you while you figure out how to make it safe. We will be there for the conversations about your pronouns and language, and that's not weird, or out of the ordinary, it's a normal, respected conversation to have.

That's why.

I had the bandwidth to deal with the trolls and haters, but not everyone does. Some people feel like they are a problem, they feel like they're not safe to exist, and some aren't safe at all. Those people deserve to see fellow queer, non-binary folx existing. They deserve to exist.