For the first eight years at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco, I saw no politics, just wonderful art students whom I loved very much. Then, it started. The first instance was a bathroom in a residence hall. Everyone used the bathroom. It had one sink, one toilet, and one shower. (Once, I had to chase a homeless woman out of the bathroom. She was taking a shower.) Suddenly, a sign appeared on the bathroom door. It said, “All Genders.” What? No one was excluded. There was no need for a sign.
The second instance was an email I had received from a residence director. I was asked to speak to a security guard I supervised. The email ended with the director’s name followed by three pronouns: he, him, and his. At first, I was puzzled over what the purpose of adding the pronouns was. I was a little dense, but it came to me. He was telling me which pronouns I could use when referring to him. I still love the school and the students very much. Nothing can change that.
The second instance was an email I had received from a residence director. I was asked to speak to a security guard I supervised. The email ended with the director’s name followed by three pronouns: he, him, and his. At first, I was puzzled over what the purpose of adding the pronouns was. I was a little dense, but it came to me. He was telling me which pronouns I could use when referring to him. I still love the school and the students very much. Nothing can change that.
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