“So, what do you think about gender identity?”
Oh, shit. It’s a trap!
I was substituting for a gym class of juniors. Instead of allowing me to use the gym (liability, I’m sure) the thirty students and I were in the health classroom. The absent teacher left some cursory worksheets and, true to form with the high school substitute grind, I dutifully handed them out.
"If you decide to work on these, bonus. When you're done you can work on stuff from your other classes or relax with your phones. Just don't become annoying and all will be well."
Except that there were three girls who, bored with the day and uninterested with the assignment, decided to fuck with the sub.
"I'm non-binary. What're you?"
"Oh, I'm binary," I quipped back not realizing where she was headed.
"Cis gendered?"
"Sure."
"Do you even know what that means?" asked the emo-looking one.
"I do." The spidey-sense started kicking in. My guard was now officially up. I saw a video of a teacher explaining to his students that he believed in the superiority of his race (he was white, his students were black). From what I gathered, he was trying to communicate that everyone, regardless of race, is a little bit racist but the message was lost as his students started calling him racist. "I am racist. We all are," was his response. He was fired for it.
I remember when I was in a similar boat. I was explaining to a then friend that given racism was a systemic thing and in America benefitted whites, only white people could legitimately be racist. "So, you're saying you're racist?" she asked.
Later, when she decided to try to cancel me, without hesitation would claim "He's racist. He even admitted it."
I learned to be cautious about the culture war stuff after that except, of course, in my writing.
“So, what do you think about gender identity?”
"No opinion on that."
"C'mon! You have an opinion!"
"Not that I'll share with you. I do have a thought about how to think about gender identity, though."
I walked over to the white board and wrote two sentences.
The opinion of the intelligent outweighs the certainty of the ignorant.
Certainty is the cul de sac from which fascism springs.
To give these girls credit, they read both and thought about them for a beat.
"What's that word? Cul... "
"Cul de sac. It's the dead-end turnaround you find in suburbs."
"Oh."
A pause. I think for a moment we're back to normal. One of the boys raises his hand.
"Yeah?"
"Does that mean you aren't certain about... I don't know... things?"
I laugh. "No. It means I have to remind myself that when I'm dead certain about anything at all, I need to look into it more. By reading and watching things that challenge my certainty, I either confirm or question my certainty."
"Like what?"
Another trap?
"When I was your age, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, a lot of people were certain that kids who wore black clothes and makeup and listened to a certain kind of music were Satan worshippers. Folks became so convinced that there were Satan worshippers everywhere, they started accusing daycare providers of performing satanic rituals with their kids."
"Like QAnon?"
"Exactly like QAnon. The certainty that satanism was everywhere became a mania around the country. My mom even bought a thirteen-tape program entitled Shatter the Darkness about satanic messages in music when you play them backwards."
"You can play songs backwards?"
"Vinyl not digital although I'm sure you could figure it out."
The first non-binary hadn't given up despite my attempts to dazzle them with ancient technology. "What about gender identity? Are you transphobic or what?"
"That is none of your business. Whatever my opinion may be concerning transgender ideology, I'm always trying to read more, to understand more."
"Like what have you read?"
"I just read an article in the New York Times about the research being done on the long-term affects of puberty blockers. It was interesting."
"What did it say?"
"You have phones. Look it up. The New York Times is a major publication so you shouldn't have too much trouble finding it."
Another boy has been looking at the two phrases on the board. "What's the second one mean?"
"Well, to me, it means that the concept of fascism and authoritarianism first stems from someone being absolutely certain of an idea without any room for doubt. Once that idea gets bigger and is accepted as capital T truth by enough people, the tendency is to then try to force everyone else to go along with the idea."
"Like the masks, right?"
"Sure. Some people were 100% certain without room for doubt that the masks were going to help prevent the spread of COVID. Others were 100% certain they were useless. Both sides tried to get the other side to adopt their version of the truth. The reality was that while masking wasn't 100% effective they weren't 100% ineffective. Both sides of that issue were a little bit wrong and a little bit right."
"Did you wear a mask?"
"Yup."
"So you on that side?"
"Nope. I was on the side of 'I'm not a doctor' so I looked into it. Most doctors said to wear them because they didn't really know what COVID was so I wore mine because, hell, it didn't hurt anyone and might've helped."
"My dad is transphobic." This kid was stubborn.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Unreasoning fear is a scary place to be."
"He's not afraid. He hates them."
"Ah. Then he isn't transphobic because a phobia is a fear of something. Does he know any transgender people?"
"I doubt it."
"Then I'd suggest he hates the idea of transgender people rather hating them. Hard to hate someone you've never met."
"You never asked me what my pronouns were."
"Are they important to you?"
"Yes."
"OK. What are your pronouns?"
"They. Them."
"And theirs?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. If I need to use a pronoun to describe you, I'll be sure to use those."
The bell rung and the kids piled out of the room. The mask kid came over after everyone had moved on to another class. "Mr. Hall? She ain't non-binary. She does that every sub we get."
"I'll bet it drives her dad crazy. Driving your dad crazy is a preoccupation for teenage girls."
The cul de sac is the root of all evil. Or not. Love this piece, Bud.