Ben Mack: Misgendering in New Zealand

The best way I can describe my frustration is a bit like this: have you ever had someone assume you're from a different country or culture? Image: Getty

There are a few things you should know about me. I have a moustache. I've been to more than 50 countries on every continent except Antarctica, including places like Afghanistan, Zimbabwe, Russia, Palestine, Kyrgyzstan, and the Amazon where it's sometimes best to keep a low profile.

I've prayed in mosques, crashed with monks, spent 36 hours on a water taxi in the jungle, jumped into frozen lakes buck naked, gone searching for the Ark of the Covenant, interviewed people fighting against terror groups in a previous job, and found myself in dodgy bazaars where I didn't speak a word of the local language and/or among gun-toting denizens more times than I can count.

These last Christmas holidays, I spent eight days aboard a cargo ship sailing through the most pirate-infested waters on the planet (the Strait of Malacca) just for kicks. There's also a pretty good chance there's an actual bounty on my head courtesy of the North Korean government. I'm not joking.

In my personal life, I must also say, it's sometimes pretty convenient to be able to pee while standing up.

Oh, and I'm also non-binary.

Huh? So what does that mean, exactly? Some made-up nonsense by a special snowflake who thinks they're unique? Yeah, nah.

Basically, it means that I don't consider myself female or male. I'm simply a human being who prefers the pronouns "they" and "their."

Go ahead and judge, or claim that boys have a ... well, you know what, and that girls have a different you-know-what. I really don't care. I believe that gender is a social construct, and that it's a spectrum, anyway. Not much is going to make me think otherwise.

But you know what I do care about? Misgendering. In other words: people calling me something that I'm not.

I can't speak for other non-binary people, but the best way I can describe my frustration is a bit like this: have you ever had someone assume you're from somewhere other than where you're actually from? Like, say you're in Europe or America, and everyone assumes you're from Australia instead of New Zealand? It gets pretty annoying after a while, right? Or pretend that you're a cat, and everyone calls you a dog. Now imagine that happening every. Bloody. Day.

That's only a fraction of what it's like to be misgendered.

It's taken a while to build up the courage, but these days I speak up when I'm misgendered a lot more than I used to, even when I'm by myself. I suppose one reason why it's taken so long is the fear of literally getting beaten up. Believe me: far worse sometimes happens to non-binary folks in some of the places I've been.

But I do feel I'm getting more confident. Just the other day, I was in a cab by myself, and the driver began the conversation with "how are you, sir?"

"Please don't call me sir," I said.

"Ok, sir," he replied.

"I'd really prefer you didn't call me sir," I said again. "Just call me Ben, please."

That was the last time I was called "sir" that day.

I'll admit that I don't always correct people when they refer to me with masculine pronouns. Having to explain why having facial hair does not magically mean someone goes by "he" or "him" sometimes just gets too exhausting. Think of it like this: do you ever get tired of people asking you the same question over and over and over again, several times a day? Exactly.

It also gets bloody tiring to have to answer the question "are you gay?" that a lot of folks inevitably ask as a follow-up. News flash: gender identity and sexual orientation are two completely different things.

Alright, so I know I've been ranting a bit here. Despite my frustrations, I can also say this: every time I've corrected someone about my preferred pronouns, I've never had to deal with someone who refused to stop misgendering me. I could go into detail about how that's a sign of how tolerant New Zealand society is (despite the negative comments I have a hunch this column will generate), but I have a funny feeling most of you already agree that Aotearoa is a pretty great place to live.

Is the Land of the Long White Cloud perfect? No (case in point: the lack of gender-neutral bathrooms in most places, but that's a story for another day). But at least here I don't have to literally wear a disguise/come up with a cover story as to who I am (here's looking at you again, North Korea) whenever I go outside. And, even better, I can proudly say please don't call me "sir."

Besides, Americans aren't allowed to take titles of nobility. The Revolutionary War and all that.