When gender-neutral pronouns make for heated conversation

Q: I teach part time for a nonprofit art center. Our educational supervisor has strongly recommended that we begin each new class by stating our own personal pronouns, and then having students state theirs.

I find this intrusive, so I simply told my class that if anyone is uncomfortable with the pronouns I am using for them - or anything else about the class - they can email or tell me in private.

This went over like a lead balloon. Blank stares, eye rolls, and a few "You-have-got-to-be-kidding-me's." I checked with other teachers, who told me they just ignored the request.

In a recent staff meeting, when the supervisor asked how it was going, I spoke up honestly but kindly. That also went over like a lead balloon. The supervisor got flustered and said she thought it was important that everyone feel comfortable. When I mentioned that it had the opposite effect in my classes, she said it was up to us to educate students about gender fluidity and trans awareness. I disagree. That is not part of our mission statement.

In my decades of teaching art in different situations, I have a reputation for welcoming everyone. One transgender student told me mine was the most welcoming class they had ever taken.

I don't depend on this job for a paycheck. Quitting is an option. What would you recommend?

A: Why would you quit? Your supervisor's priorities seem to align with what you say is your reputation for making everyone feel respected and welcome. In social, academic and professional settings, offering one's personal pronouns - he/him, she/her, they/them, ze/zir - is an increasingly common way to do that. It indicates awareness that not everyone is comfortable having society assign them to a pink or a blue box.

Unfortunately, your supervisor's efforts seem to be having the opposite effect - not just for people who didn't expect their color theory lessons to include discussion on the gender spectrum, but also for people who aren't ready to "out" themselves to strangers. And instructors whose discomfort or insincerity shows through during the exercise could cause more harm than good.

Nor do I endorse barging ahead with your own assumptions and putting the onus on students to set you straight; how many of us balk at correcting others, especially those in authority, who call us by the wrong name? Better to offer your own pronouns and leave it to students whether they want to follow suit.

Not that I have any easy answers. I myself resisted the singular "they" for years until I realized it was not about grammar, but about making a respectful statement in an imperfect, inadequate tongue.

Still, is it not the purpose of art to challenge default thinking? For that matter, why put nonbinary people or gender nonconformists on the spot when each aspect of human identity - race, ability, sexuality, happiness, health - exists on a spectrum?

Surely someone with decades of experience creating welcoming environments can come up with creative exercises and assignments to incorporate inclusion into a curriculum. And instead of bucking or butting heads with your supervisor, maybe you could start a dialogue with her on other ways to accomplish that.

Of course, you may encounter pushback from anyone primed to see a political agenda in every gesture of inclusion. But the more plentiful the eye-rolls and grumbling, the greater the odds that someone in the silent minority needs to hear, "All are welcome here."

Pro tip: The Human Rights Campaign offers recommendations on how workplaces and other organizations can incorporate LGBTQ-inclusive concepts and practices, starting with the hiring process.