For The Last Time Parker Our Pronouns Are They/them
Okay, so, let's talk about something that's become a surprisingly frequent, and let's be honest, sometimes a little painfully repetitive, conversation in my life. It’s the classic, the enduring, the, dare I say, almost iconic exchange with my dear friend, Parker. Bless their heart.
You see, Parker is a wonderful human. Truly. They’re the kind of person who’d bring you soup when you’re sick, remember your birthday without a Facebook reminder, and can tell a story that’ll have you crying with laughter for a solid ten minutes. They’re also… well, they’re non-binary. And their pronouns are they/them. Which, to me, is as natural as saying "pass the salt" or "did you leave the porch light on?"
But for Parker? It’s apparently as complicated as explaining the internet to my Uncle Barry. And every. Single. Time. we’re talking about Parker, or someone brings them up, the conversation inevitably circles back to this one, singular, incredibly persistent point. It’s like a recurring jingle in a commercial you just can’t get out of your head, but instead of catchy, it's just… earnest.
I’ll be mid-sentence, regaling someone with tales of Parker’s latest baking triumph (seriously, their sourdough starter is a national treasure), and I’ll say something like, "And then Parker said they were going to try a new topping, and they were so excited about it."
And then it happens. The pause. That tell-tale furrow of the brow. The slight tilt of the head, as if they’re trying to decipher an ancient hieroglyph. And then, the inevitable, "Wait, so… they? Like, plural?"
At this point, I could probably recite the entire script of The Princess Bride from memory. And yet, here we are. Again.
It’s not malicious, mind you. It’s not like they’re trying to be difficult. It’s just… a brain glitch. A momentary system overload. Like when you’ve been staring at a computer screen for too long and the words start to swim. Or when you’re trying to remember the name of that actor who was in that thing with the other actor. You know the one! He has that… face!
I usually try to respond with the same calm, easy-going demeanor I’d use if someone asked me, "Hey, is that your car that’s blocking the driveway?" My answer, of course, would be, "Oops, sorry about that!" And they’d nod and move on. This, however, requires a slightly more… reiterative approach.
“Yep, they/them,” I’ll say, with a smile that’s trying really hard not to show the fifty times I’ve had this exact conversation this week. “Just like we talked about. It’s how Parker identifies. It’s a singular 'they,' meaning just one Parker. Think of it like… um… when you talk about a generic person, right? You might say, 'If someone wants to get a good grade, they need to study.' That's a singular 'they'!”
This is usually where the glaze over happens. The eyes go a little unfocused. They’re clearly grasping for an analogy that makes sense to them, and my perfectly reasonable linguistic explanation is not landing. It’s like trying to teach a cat to fetch. You know it’s technically possible, but the motivation just isn’t there, and it’s probably going to end with a hairball.
Sometimes, I resort to slightly more outlandish comparisons, just to try and jog the ol’ brain cells. “It’s like… you know how sometimes you forget someone’s name and you just call them ‘buddy’ or ‘pal’?” I’ll say, feeling a flicker of hope. “It’s not that you don’t know their name, it’s just what pops into your head. Except for Parker, ‘they/them’ is their actual name, linguistically speaking. Their pronoun name.”
This usually elicits a surprised look, followed by a hesitant, "Oh. So… you just… use it like you would ‘he’ or ‘she’?"
“Exactly!” I’ll exclaim, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, because at this point, a win is a win. “Just like you’d say, 'Where is Sarah? I wanted to ask her a question.' You’d say, 'Where is Parker? I wanted to ask them a question.' Or, 'Mark is really good at coding. He taught me a lot.' You’d say, 'Parker is really good at coding. They taught me a lot.'”
It’s a process. A beautiful, sometimes exasperating, process. It’s like watching a toddler learn to walk. There are stumbles, there are falls, there’s a lot of pointing and tentative steps. But eventually, they get there. And you cheer them on, because you know they’re trying their best.
The funniest part is, these conversations often happen with people who are otherwise perfectly capable of understanding complex geopolitical situations or the intricacies of quantum physics. They can debate the merits of different pizza toppings for an hour, but the concept of a singular “they” throws them for a loop. It's like their brain has a specific little filing cabinet labeled "Pronouns," and it's only got two folders: "He" and "She." And anything else just gets returned to sender.
I remember one time, I was talking to my Aunt Carol. Aunt Carol is a gem. She knits sweaters that could survive a polar vortex and bakes pies that could win awards. But bless her, she struggles with… well, a lot of things that fall outside her immediate sphere of expertise. Like, for example, understanding why I don’t have a landline anymore.
So, we’re talking about Parker, and I’m telling her about a hilarious text exchange we had. "And then Parker sent me this meme," I said, "and they were absolutely cracking up."
Aunt Carol’s eyes went wide. "They? You mean… there was more than one Parker texting you?"
I took a deep breath. "No, Aunt Carol. Just one Parker. Their pronouns are they/them. So, you use 'they' for Parker, just like you'd use 'she' for me."
She blinked. Then she said, slowly, as if she was revealing a profound scientific discovery, "So, you're saying… it's a group of Parkers?"
I swear, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve had to explain this… I could probably afford to buy Parker a lifetime supply of their favorite artisanal cheese. Which, knowing Parker, would be a significant investment.
It’s not that people are intentionally being obtuse. It’s just that our brains are wired for patterns, and for many people, the binary gender system is the pattern they’ve always known. It’s like the default setting on your phone. You don’t even think about it until someone tells you there’s another option.
And that’s the key, isn’t it? It’s about gently, patiently, and sometimes with a good dose of humor, introducing the idea that there are other options. That language can evolve. That people’s identities are valid and deserve to be respected.
I’ve found that a little bit of self-deprecating humor goes a long way. When someone inevitably messes up, I’ll often say something like, “No worries! My brain defaults to ‘he’ or ‘she’ sometimes too, until I catch myself. It’s a work in progress for all of us!” This helps take the pressure off and makes it feel less like an interrogation and more like a shared learning experience.
Or I’ll offer a really simple, concrete example. “Think of it like this,” I’ll say. “If you saw a person walking down the street and you didn’t know their gender, you might say, ‘Look at that person. They seem lost.’ You’re already using ‘they’ as a singular pronoun. We just need to extend that to people we know and love, like Parker!”
The thing is, Parker doesn't demand perfection. They understand that this is new for a lot of people. What they do appreciate is the effort. The willingness to try. And when someone finally gets it, and they use their pronouns correctly without missing a beat, the look of genuine joy on Parker’s face is worth every single repetitive conversation I’ve ever had.
It’s like when you’re teaching someone to drive a stick shift. At first, it’s all jerky starts, stalling, and a whole lot of nervous energy. But then, one day, they shift smoothly into second gear, and it’s a revelation. They’ve got it! They’ve mastered the art of the clutch!
So, for the last time, Parker. No, wait. Not for the last time. Because I know we’ll have this conversation again. But for this moment, for anyone who’s ever paused mid-sentence, or stumbled over their words, or looked at me with that bewildered expression, let this be a gentle reminder. Parker’s pronouns are they/them. And it’s really, truly not that complicated once you get the hang of it. It’s just another way to show someone you see them, you respect them, and you value them for exactly who they are. And honestly, isn’t that what friendship is all about? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go explain what a meme is to my Uncle Barry. That’s a whole other article.