For as long as I can remember, I’ve been ignoring Bruce Jenner. As a child of the ’70s, I ignored him in the cereal aisle, where his Olympic-champion mug couldn’t entice me to pick his terminally bland Wheaties over more healthful Sugar Smacks. I ignored him in the ’80s, during his star-turn in Can’t Stop the Music, a disco-tinged Village People biopic that saw him nominated for a Golden Raspberry Award for worst actor. In the ’90s, I don’t recall Jenner at all, as I was rather busy ignoring him.
By the mid-2000s, however, Jen-ner had become much more difficult to ignore. He’d plighted his troth to the Kardashian clan, America’s First Family of publicity tapeworms, who are as long on fame’n’money as they are short on talent, unless you consider leaked sex tapes and Instagram butt-selfies a talent. As the paterfamilias/house eunuch of the Kardashian seraglio—both in real life and in the fake reality show Keeping Up with the Kardashians (now in its tenth smash season)—Jenner allowed viewers to witness him getting ignored by his daughters and serially humiliated by his wife. “Momager” Kris (her self-appointed nickname as her daughters’ tireless manager) would leave him behind on trips, confiscate his ATM card, and generally keep his huevos in her purse, well before he started carrying one (the two recently divorced).
The pronoun police at GLAAD distributed a helpful tip-sheet for journalists who should now see that Caitlyn “is—and always has been—a woman.” GLAAD commanded journalists to “avoid the phrase ‘born a man’ when referring to Jenner.” And the fierce guardians of free speech in the press did what they always do in such situations—they hung their heads and bleated obediently, cisgenders terrified to misgender. The Washington Post’s LGBT/straight etiquette columnist (yes, they have one) highly recommended GLAAD’s tips. And a Post colleague went so far as to set up a Twitter bot that would automatically correct anyone using “he” instead of “she” when writing about Brucelyn.