My Identity, My Choice

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We all deserve the freedom to define ourselves, to be seen for who we truly are, beyond the labels and expectations placed upon us by others.

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Tonight, I found myself in a discussion that stirred up more emotions than I could process in the moment. What started as a seemingly intellectual conversation—the difference between biological and gender identity, how we define ourselves, and the role language plays in all of it—quickly took a turn.

The phrase “birth-giving person” was introduced as a term for “woman,” and I felt it immediately—a wave of discomfort that washed over me, followed by a tightening in my chest, a knot in my stomach, and a weight I couldn’t shake. I listened, I tried to keep an open mind, but the longer it went on, the more I realized that I wasn’t just reacting to the phrase itself. I was reacting to how it made me feel.

As a woman—just a woman, no conditions, no prefixes, no qualifiers—I felt like my entire identity was being reduced to a single biological function. I have a condition that prevents me from ever being able to give birth, and yet there I was, in that moment, being told that my worth, my womanhood, could be summed up by something my body would never be able to do.

And here's the most painful part: it wasn't because I didn't want to have children. It's that my body can't. I never got to make that choice for myself. My condition had already taken that decision out of my hands, long before I was ready to face it. And in that moment, I felt like my body, my identity, was nothing more than a biological function that I could never fulfill.

I spoke up, carefully choosing my words, even though my voice shook. “Shouldn’t everyone get to decide for themselves how they want to be identified?” I asked. “I want to be called a woman. Just that. Nothing more, nothing less.” Some nodded, others debated, but the weight of the conversation hung heavy in the air, and I knew that some were listening but not truly hearing.

Then, another voice cut through the conversation. A person who clearly had a very different stance, dismissing it with a wave and a muttered, “This woke shit.”

And suddenly, there it was again—another wave of frustration, a tightening in my chest. But this time, it wasn’t about the label. It wasn’t about birth-giving person. It was about being dismissed—my identity, my lived experience, my voice—dismissed as if it didn’t matter. As if I didn’t matter.

“It’s not shit,” I said, my voice a little louder now, but firm. I wasn’t going to let this go.

To my surprise, the person then claimed they were actually helping me—agreeing with my argument in their own way. But that’s when I had to take a deep breath and really step back. Because this was no longer about a disagreement in language. It was about a basic respect for the choices we all get to make in defining ourselves.

“Listen,” I said, trying to remain calm. “It doesn’t help to dismiss other people’s opinions like that. That just divides us more. Just because I want to be called a woman doesn’t mean I want to take away anyone else’s right to define themselves however they choose. If someone wants to use ‘birth-giving person,’ that’s fine. But I should also have the same right to say ‘no’ to that label.”

A pause. A silence. Then, the exhaustion that always comes when you have to defend something so deeply personal.

I left shortly after, not out of anger, but because I needed space. Space to breathe. To process the rush of emotions that came from asking, pleading really, for my identity to be recognized for what it is—not for what others define it to be.

This conversation, in so many ways, mirrors a much larger conversation happening everywhere. Language is powerful. Words shape our identities, our sense of belonging, and the way we connect to one another. But in the midst of our attempts to be inclusive, we often forget that true inclusivity means respecting everyone’s right to define themselves, to live authentically without being forced into a box they didn’t choose.

I don’t need to be a “birth-giving person” to validate someone who identifies with that term. And they don’t need to call themselves a woman to validate me. It’s not a battle. It shouldn’t be a battle. It should be about freedom.

And my freedom? I am a woman. No conditions. No qualifiers. Just that. And that, in its simplest form, should be enough.