Why I Stopped Saying "Womxn"

I had used it for a long time – Years really. And I was proud of it. I really thought I was doing a good thing. I was choosing my language intentionally. I was resisting the idea that the word “men” needed to be included in the word “women” – that there was a rigid gender binary or that women didn’t make sense, or couldn’t truly exist, without men. I was being inclusive. I was being progressive. I was making a statement.

Wasn’t I?

If the last few years have called us to do anything, it’s to examine our privileges and understand that there are things that we must fight for that we will never fully understand because it’s not our experience. It’s to put aside any defensiveness when we do something harmful – regardless of our intentions– and understand how we can do better. It’s to constantly challenge ourselves to listen and learn. To decenter our feelings about being an ally and when we fuck up, get up and brush ourselves off to continue the fight.

This, however, doesn’t mean that it’s easy to do.

You see, two months into the COVID-19 pandemic and I had a carefully curated Instagram feed that had become more like a social justice resource library than a social media platform. I wasn’t interested in pretty views or live music anymore – I wanted to see a list of the 10 ways I could take action to demand justice for George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, which organizations I could donate to or which books I should order from Black and independently owned book stores. I kept up with it regularly, committing to doing the work. Then one day, when my trusted feed started showing me reasons why using the word “womxn” was problematic, I found myself there – defensive.

I had trouble comprehending it at first. So you’re saying the word I’ve been using specifically to demonstrate allyship and inclusivity is harmful? The word I had all over my website, in my 400-page book manuscript, and in every bio I’d ever written? I knew it was not the reaction I wanted to have, but it happened – I made it about me. The pride I took in being an advocate for equity in this world was… well, wounded.

Instead of sitting in my feelings, I researched. I sifted through social media, devouring perspectives from brilliant minds about the word “womxn”. Sure enough, my sources pointed to the word “womxn” being not nearly as progressive as I thought it was. One of my favorites posts is this incredibly educational, informative and to-the-point one from Blair Imani (@blairimani).

As I clicked through, I saw why the word was problematic – it implies, specifically to the transgender community and anyone who isn’t a cisgender woman that they aren’t quite “women” and instead, they needed a modified version of the word to belong to it.

Around this same time, I had hired Larissa, a Latinx woman and a member of the LGBTQ+ community who specializes in editing books that, “authentically feature traditionally marginalized characters and experiences” to edit my manuscript. One of my biggest questions for her was around the use of the word “womxn” – should I use it? When she returned feedback to me a month later, she also suggested letting go of the word as it’s more harmful than inclusive.

So, I let it go.

I went through my websites, social media profiles and other digital materials to update the word anywhere I could find it. I’m now in the process of editing it out of my book. And when I use the word women, I do it intentionally, choosing language that represents and feels inclusive to everyone who identifies as a woman.

Being an ally isn’t about being perfect, and advocating for social change is messy. I’m learning it all happens in the details. And when we perpetuate painful practices, even with good intentions, we must have the humility to step outside our own experience and say – “Thank you. I’ll do better, because it’s what we all deserve.” And then we must actually do it.

For further reading on “womxn”, check out this article – “Why Womxn Isn’t Exactly the Inclusive Term You Think It Is".