What does it mean to be nonbinary? To me, it means that I feel safest and most authentically myself when I live in the gray area when it comes to gender. I’m not a man or a woman, I’m something else. I’m masculine in some ways and feminine in others. I’m free of rules and roles based on gender, which is truly liberating.
Unfortunately, the world has not caught up yet when it comes to nonbinary gender identities. There’s still a lot of work to be done around the gendered language we use every day. Gendered language is everywhere! It’s in our day-to-day language and educational tools; it’s even on our street signs. And it’s especially prevalent in the medical industry.
Going to medical appointments can be extra triggering for someone who experiences gender differently than your average cisgender man or woman. That’s because the language used by medical professionals is often purely anatomical and paired with gendered language that refers to a “typical” cisgender male/female anatomy. Talking about “women’s health,” when discussing ovarian cysts is one example of this. How does using that kind of language impact someone who is not a woman but has ovaries? It can make you feel invisible, demeaned, and uncomfortable.
When it comes to my personal experience with the medical industry, I’ve had to do a lot of work around self-advocacy. Asking that offices only refer to me as J, the non-gender-specific name I’ve used for many years, is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve spoken with medical professionals about using my neutral pronouns and exchanging words like “female” and “woman” for person. It is exhausting to have these conversations. But they’re so worth it. If I can not only make my experience at the doctor feel more safe and affirming but also potentially help another trans or nonbinary person feel comfortable seeking medical help, why wouldn’t I? Still, it is tiresome.
I was pleasantly surprised by the inclusivity of my physician’s office when attending my last physical. I went to give a urine sample and saw a page on the wall in the bathroom. It was an info sheet about urinary incontinence, encouraging patients to check in with a doctor if they have had that experience.
This is the kind of ad that I normally avoid reading further, because I’m often trying to minimize exposure to language that will make me feel uncomfortable. However, I kept reading. Why? Because this page used completely non-gendered language. It did not refer to UI as a “woman’s issue.” It did not compare the rates of prevalence in men versus women, which would have erased the potential for nonbinary folks to exist entirely.
Instead, it talked about the issue itself: urinary incontinence. It stated something simple: “Do you experience leakage or loss of bladder control? Does it happen when you cough and/or sneeze? There are all kinds of reasons this could happen, and we can help! Talk to your doctor about it.”
Simple. To the point. Nondiscriminatory. And the impact? The impact is about inclusivity. I know this ad was made for me. I know this office prioritizes inclusivity in hopes of allowing its patients a safe environment to really delve into personal physical issues they may be experiencing, regardless of what kind of people usually experience them. Because of their intentionality, I thought to myself, “This isn’t just a women’s or a men’s problem—anyone can have this issue. I think this happens to me?” I brought this conversation to my doctor immediately after.
The medical world should be accessible. It should foster an environment in which feeling vulnerable feels safe. In this small, simple example, gender neutrality helped start a very productive conversation between me and my doctor.
Turns out I needed to do some serious pelvic floor exercises. I needed to strengthen my muscles. Nothing about this conversation felt uncomfortable to me. I felt seen by my doctor. Truly seen. And safe. This is crucial to building rapport. I knew that my gender identity was seen as valid in that space, which allowed me to seek proper medical advice.
Far too often people in marginalized groups have difficulty accessing proper medical care for all kinds of reasons. Whether it be transportation issues, financial difficulties, or racial and transphobic discrimination, there are large groups of people having a hard time getting in to see the doctor and being truthful about their ailments. How do we combat that? How can we improve access to medical care?
We must combat negative stereotypes, educate and train professionals to the highest and most inclusive degree, and fight systemic oppression. Change has to happen on the macro, mezzo, and micro levels. On the macro level, we must fight for change of policies. On the mezzo level, we look at access to medical care in our own communities and problem solve as needed. On the micro level, we change our language in one-on-one interactions and make ourselves inclusive and respectful. Inclusivity aids in access.
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