There’s a quiet truth a lot of people haven’t said out loud yet: not everyone feels comfortable being asked for their pronouns. Not because they don’t respect gender-diverse folks or don’t want to foster inclusive spaces. But because for some of us, the request itself lands strangely heavy.
I’m one of those people.
I don’t use pronoun labels for myself, and I’ve learned to trust the internal pull that tells me why. Some of it’s personal. Some of it’s cultural. And some of it comes from watching identity get flattened into neat little packages in the name of “representation.”
If you’re decolonizing your relationship to identity, or you’ve ever felt the instinct to sidestep that box on a form or in a group intro post, this is for you.
Where Pronoun Labeling Gets Complicated
Pronouns themselves aren’t the problem. Every language has its own way of referencing people. Some Indigenous languages use gendered pronouns; some don’t. Some rely on animate vs inanimate. Some shift based on relationship or context. Identity is dynamic, not standardized.
The friction comes from the system underneath the ask.
Colonization did what colonization always does. It sorted people into categories, made those categories the law, and used paperwork to enforce them. Gender became binary. Identity became administratively necessary. Everything had to be documented, tracked, declared, and made legible.
The modern world hasn’t grown out of that habit. We’ve simply updated the vocabulary.
Even well-meaning institutions can slip into that same pattern:
Tell us who you are in the way we recognize.
Choose from our acceptable boxes.
Make it quick so we can move on.
Intentions aside, it still carries the echo of enforced legibility.
Where It Shows Up on Social Media
This is where things get extra interesting.
Social media thrives on labeling. Bios become tiny résumés of identity. Content is categorized. Everyone is encouraged to “signal who you are” in the smallest amount of space possible. Short, tidy, efficient. Algorithms love it.
And somewhere along the way, pronoun sharing became part of that performance loop. Not always out of authenticity, but often because it’s expected. It’s seen as the responsible thing. The progressive thing. The safe thing.
But for people who are decolonizing, or for people whose identities don’t fit neatly into colonial categories, this can feel like yet another system telling you to declare yourself in a way that isn’t true to how you actually live.
Pronoun labeling, when done on autopilot, can move from being a gesture of respect to another form of identity policing. Not malicious. Just unconscious.
Identity Isn’t a Checkbox in Many Indigenous Worldviews
Here’s where the deeper context sits.
In many Indigenous worldviews, identity is relational. It lives in how you move through your community, the responsibilities you carry, and the relationships you nurture. It shifts, evolves, and grows with experience.
A static label can’t hold all of that.
When someone asks me for my pronouns, the discomfort doesn’t come from the idea of gender. It comes from the pressure to reduce my relational identity to a category someone can file, post, or share.
And social media amplifies that pressure. It compresses us. It flattens us into roles and labels so people can “understand” us quickly. But quick understanding isn’t the same as genuine understanding.
My name carries who I am more accurately than a pronoun ever will. My community knows me by relationship, not by label.
When Inclusion Accidentally Echoes Colonization
Here’s the twist: a practice born from the desire to create safer, more inclusive spaces can still end up echoing the same systems it was meant to disrupt.
This shows up when pronoun sharing becomes mandatory, expected, or socially enforced. It shows up when people need your pronouns to finish a form, complete a bio template, or publish a post. It shows up when someone is uncomfortable opting out because they don’t want to be perceived as anti-inclusion.
That’s how a well-intentioned practice becomes another quiet way of policing identity.
And it’s okay to name that.
So What Do You Do If You Don’t Want to Participate?
You hold your boundary. You stay grounded. And you lead with clarity, not defensiveness.
Here’s a simple line that covers it:
“I opt out of pronoun labeling. Some of that is personal and some of it is cultural. My identity is relational, not categorical. My name is the best way to refer to me.”
It respects everyone involved without forcing you into a label that doesn’t align with your worldview.
This is an example of a respectful way I've approached this question: "I don’t use pronoun labels for myself. Pronoun labeling, especially in institutional contexts, often mirrors colonial systems that classify people to make them legible on paper. I try not to participate in practices that flatten identity into something static or bureaucratic. I’m always respectful of others’ pronouns, but for myself, I prefer to let people know me through my name and our relationship, not a label."
A Question Worth Asking
When pronouns are being collected, especially in public-facing projects or social media campaigns, this reflection can shift the tone of the entire conversation:
“What’s the intention behind collecting pronouns here? I’m mindful of the difference between meaningful inclusion and checkbox identity practices.”
It’s not confrontational. It simply asks them to examine the system they’re upholding.
And if they can’t articulate the why? That tells you everything you need to know about the practice.
For Anyone Reading Who Feels Similar
You’re not alone in this.
You’re not difficult.
You’re not anti-inclusion.
You’re simply aware of how identity has been historically categorized, flattened, and tracked. You’re choosing not to replicate that pattern where you don’t have to.
Decolonizing is about reclaiming the fluidity and relationality that colonial systems tried to erase. If pronoun labeling aligns with your identity, great. If it doesn’t, opting out doesn’t make you less respectful. It makes you intentional.
And no one should need a label to be understood.