Today I found myself in a boutique shop that sells all manner of cocktail supplies. The only service person in the store was a young man – early twenties, I’d guess – very feminine, and actually quite beautiful.

My gender sensors identified him as a man, and that’s how I’ll refer to him, but I have no idea how he identifies or how he was born.

A few things struck me from our interactions. First is that, in writing this post, the inadequacy of language in this regard is quite obvious. Do I refer to this person as “him” or, if not, then what? Anything I choose is as likely to be as wrong as it is right, and I don’t see a way to write this post without gender-specific pronouns.

Second, not knowing his gender didn’t matter – at least not to me. I found him attractive and helpful and personable – and none of that need have a gender.

Third, I thought about the wonderful freedom he had – to be male or female or both or neither or something else entirely. Lucky him! He could change from day to day, or not, or he could change by the minute if he pleased. What a kaleidoscopic way to experience life and learn about yourself!

Once upon a time, I had a gift of sorts to be able to present and behave alternately as a masculine male or a feminine female, but my mindset had these compartmentalized and it was a determined effort. Also, it turned out that one side was real and the other a relic. Here, it is much more organic, and the change I saw in him from being very feminine one moment, to affecting a male presence the next is what prompted me to these thoughts.

Last, this privilege he has, well, it is a gift of youth. It won’t last long. Sure, he gets to experiment and try every possibility out if he wants to, but eventually he will grow into something less flexible – at least physically. Will he pine for the days he was a chameleon of sorts, or will he grow comfortably into whatever identity most suits him?

Like everything else, it seems, that will be up to him.