Beyond Aunt or Uncle: Becoming an Untie

When my sister told me she was expecting her first baby, there were so many things to be excited about. I was going to have a whole new little person to love, and I couldn’t wait to find out who they would become. But somewhere in all that excitement was a question that felt surprisingly tender: What would they call me?

I had recently come out to my family as nonbinary. I knew I wasn’t going to be an aunt, but I wasn’t an uncle either, and while a family title might seem like a small thing, it mattered greatly to me. I was about to step into this entirely new role in my family, and I wanted a word for it that actually felt like mine. I scoured the internet for days on end trying to find some gender neutral term that felt like me, and nothing seemed to fit. Finally, I decided to just make one up: Untie. A mashup of uncle and auntie.

Asking the people in my life to actually use it felt vulnerable. I worried it would sound strange or that I would have to explain it over and over again. Underneath those worries was a question I think many trans and nonbinary people know well: Am I asking for too much?

Even when we know what language feels right, we can find ourselves calculating whether it's worth correcting someone or making them uncomfortable. Sometimes we start editing ourselves before anyone else has the chance to. For me, Untie carried some of that weight.

But when my niece arrived, that weight simply lifted. To her, this word I’d spent so much time agonizing over wasn’t complicated at all. To her, I have always just been Untie.

As she got older, “Untie” became as ordinary in her world as any other family name. Sometimes I’ll hear her introduce me to someone new and simply say, “This is my Untie.” There’s no hesitation. It’s just who I am to her. She knows that my partner is her auntie and me her Untie. Those words exist right alongside each other. They simply name two different people who love her, in two different roles that belong to us.

As she got older, I tried to explain what nonbinary meant in a way that made sense for her age. Even the word itself was a bit of a mouthful, but she was determined to remember it. For a while, her best attempt at saying “nonbinary” sounded something like “night berry.” Eventually, “night berry” became “un-binary.”

Even now, she’ll proudly explain, “Untie isn’t a boy or a girl. Untie is un-binary.”

It makes me smile every single time. Not because she has the language exactly right, but because what matters to me is what she’s communicating underneath it: she knows me.

I think about that often when I hear adults worry that children are too young to understand gender. My niece has never needed a perfect explanation of what it means to be nonbinary. She needed me to tell her who I am to her, and she’s trusted me.

For many trans and nonbinary people, being known doesn’t always feel that simple. We get used to explaining ourselves and anticipating questions, confusion, or discomfort. But then I think about my niece, confidently telling one of her friends, “That’s my Untie.” She reminds me that affirmation doesn’t require a perfect understanding of someone else’s gender. It can be much simpler than that: I hear you. I believe you. I’ll call you what feels like you.

That lesson follows me into my work in the therapy space as well. Language is sometimes dismissed as “just semantics,” even when folks are talking about names, pronouns, identities, or the words people use to describe themselves. But when you’ve experienced the difference between being called something that almost fits and being called something that feels like you, it’s hard to believe language is ever “just” language.

Being an Untie is deeply gender affirming, but truth be told, it is so much more than that. It is one of the greatest privileges of my life and one of the roles I am most proud to hold. Every handmade piece of art addressed to “Untie,” every FaceTime call, every time that tiny voice calls out to me has made this word about so much more than my gender. Untie means I belong to her, and she belongs to me.

Recently, a friend of mine told me they had decided they would go by Untie as well, as they welcomed a new niece into their family. I didn’t expect how emotional that would make me. A word I once worried would sound strange and be too much for others had somehow made its way into someone else’s family unit. We often think of language as something we’re given, but language has always evolved because people needed words that reflected their lives. Sometimes the words we inherit don’t quite fit, and we have to find, create, and share ones that do.

Of all the names I’ve been called in my life, Untie is undoubtedly my favorite. Not simply because it is gender affirming, but because every time I hear that little voice yell, “Untie!” across the room, I’m reminded that I never had to choose between being fully myself and being deeply loved.