As a parent of two children with a somewhat androgynous appearance, I’ve grown accustomed to the occasional mix-up regarding their genders. My son, with his strikingly long eyelashes and charming features, has been mistaken for a girl since infancy. Nowadays, it’s mostly due to his long hair that tends to throw off those unfamiliar with him. It’s quite rare for someone who doesn’t know him to refer to him as a “he.”
My daughter, being the younger sibling, often wears her brother’s hand-me-downs. While I’ve added some floral prints and dresses to her wardrobe, she primarily sports jeans, black hoodies adorned with dinosaur spikes, and gray T-shirts featuring motorcycles or bears. Unlike her brother, she has less hair, and while not as common, I still hear people refer to her as a “cute little boy” every now and then.
Generally, I don’t feel the need to correct people. Most of the time, my kids are too engaged in their activities to notice. If my son does catch wind of someone calling him a girl, he sometimes takes the initiative to correct them himself, which I fully support. However, we mostly let it slide because, frankly, it doesn’t matter. Misgendering my kids isn’t going to spoil anyone’s day.
That said, there are instances when I do correct individuals, especially during playgroups or gatherings where we might see the same people repeatedly. It seems a bit odd for someone to learn my daughter is a girl after referring to her as “Little Dude” for months. When I provide this clarification, I’m often met with sincere apologies.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” they exclaim.
But honestly, it’s not a big deal. You didn’t run over my cat or mistakenly assume my child is a Red Sox fan. You simply used the wrong pronoun—no harm done. Let’s just move on.
I’ve always been puzzled by how distressed people seem when they misidentify the gender of my children, particularly when they were babies. Babies, swaddled and smelling of that sweet “new baby” aroma, are often indistinguishable. When a doctor announces, “It’s a (something),” I don’t need anyone else to be certain.
That’s why I don’t bother correcting strangers. It’s just not significant enough for me to reassure you that I’m not offended. Besides, why should I be? I cherish the fact that my children are growing up with a flexible understanding of gender. At four, my son is just beginning to grasp the differences between boys and girls. He knows he’s a boy and his sister is a girl, but he doesn’t limit his interests to what society labels as “boyish” or “girlish.”
They both enjoy playing with trucks and dolls alike. Their interests span a wide range, from puzzles and coloring to outdoor adventures and seeing who can yell the loudest before I lose my sanity. They simply enjoy being kids.
Observing their natural inclinations without any pressure to conform to gender norms has been enlightening. My son is gentle, enjoys quiet reading, and could play with action figures indefinitely. In contrast, my daughter is exuberant, fearless, and loves to dress up with anything she finds. While my son enjoys watching me apply makeup and helping his dad with home improvement projects, my daughter seeks the tallest point on the playground. Each day, they reveal new facets of their personalities.
So, there’s no need to stress over which side of the gender spectrum they lean toward. You have a 50/50 chance, and it’s not a contest with winners or losers. No apologies are necessary.
My kids are simply kids, and they have plenty of time to grow into their identities. For now, I’m delighted to see them just being themselves.
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Summary
In essence, misgendering my children is not a concern for me as a parent. I appreciate their individual growth and the fluidity of gender they are experiencing. My kids are free to explore their interests without the confines of traditional gender roles, and that’s what matters most.

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