Whenever I see a bug or a small creature, or even a large creature come to think of it—if I see something that is not human—I assume that thing is male with the exception of things that I think of as inherently feminine like flowers or bees. Outside my apartment, I noticed a pansy had fought their way out of the netting that covers them and thought “Good for her!” as I walked past. The thought was so unusual it sparked me to think about how I decide to gender things at all. “Her” was so markedly different from my automatic assumption that every bird, bug and acorn represents a male of their species that it stood out to even myself. Why? What makes me think that?

Of course, the easy answer here is the patriarchy makes me think it. My personal history of having to prove to men I have the right to exist (like the time that guy at Cracker Barrel grilled me about whether or not I was pregnant when I came in for my job interview at sixteen) and the societal history that shows systemic imbalance (for example, our vanishing autonomous rights in a time when don’t tread on me is trending!) make me more inclined to default the standard to male. And certainly, there is an iota of truth there, we can all agree. More balance in society would help balance nature.

But what if there’s more to it? It could be because historically tribe greeted tribe with the men out front. That’s a thing, isn’t it? Maybe it’s Hollywood who’s responsible for that one. I usually see a leader, who could be a woman in today’s world, flanked by young men. Soldiers. My personal opinion, that I’ve derived from nothing other than pride for my own gender, is that tribes with woman leaders are better for the whole. Women also make good soldiers. I wonder if that sector is balancing out as quickly as leadership? The soldiers are there to protect the leader and ultimately the others in the tribe if things with the new guys go sideways. It requires a level of selflessness that I think is often overlooked. Soldiers are there as an introduction to the group. Could that have something to do with why every squirrel who approaches me is “Hey Buddy!”? I might see the squirrel as a “man” because he’s the first to greet me and my knowledge about greetings in the world is that men most commonly present first. Makes sense. At the same time I am aware that I am unfamiliar with the greeting rituals of the animal kingdom. We don’t watch the same movies. I understand that I have no way of evaluating the gender of each squirrel I encounter, they have a reputation of being squirrelly. And what’s more, the gender constructs of the squirrel community may be nothing like what I imagine them to be. As a side note: I am ashamed that I think of everything as a male version of whatever it is, and I am trying to change that. When I see another creature and think “Wow! look at him!” I have to consciously tack on “or her… or them!” so I can start the arduous work of carving the new rut in my brain.

There are a few creatures that exist in blissfully genderless qualia. For me, butterflies fall into this category. They are what they are. My brain doesn’t feel the need to gender them at all. I find myself instead enamored with their flight pattern and how gently they interact with the things around them. I study the colors and patterns of their wings. Every time I see one I wish I knew about more than monarchs, but it’s the only species I can think to name. I find I can appreciate them, whatever they are, without knowing what they’re called. Trees also fall into this category. With trees, I am overwhelmed by their power. I’ve shed tears at the thought of losing an old tree. What greets me about a tree is age and strength. Stoicism. As if I am witnessing their spirit on the outside. With butterflies and trees I never find myself thinking “She likes nectar.” or “He stands firm against the wind.” I am simply with a tree, “A tree is magic stretching toward the sky.”

What we think about things shapes how we see them. I bring a lot of information from my brain to the creature’s character when I interact with them in my world. I don’t stop at gender. Just this morning on the golf course with my family, we saw a raccoon climb a tree and peak out at us. I gave him all sorts of charming personality as he scampered up a down the trunk. Ugh, see!? He! Still working on that rut. I don’t know how they might have identified were I able to ask them who they are. In reality, I have no idea what that raccoon was thinking or feeling at all. If I had assumed the raccoon was as friendly and curious as my brain wished they were, I could have gotten myself or one of my children hurt. I know not to let my projections affect my behavior around wild things. It’s important to remember I don’t know how our interaction will go. I can hope they’ll saunter over to me and ask to shake hands, and understand that I could scare them off at any moment. I can try to predict the thoughts in the mind of the stranger, while I still readying myself for surprises. I know the best shot I have of achieving my dream of becoming the human half of a raccoon/human handshake is to treat them as I would any other creature I am meeting for the first time: with care and respect.