I was pregnant 
before the days when everyone 
photographed fetal genitals. 
We fought over and chose names 
aligned with our projections about how 
the genital mystery would unfold as if 
that were the sum total of possibility. 
Rolling my eyes at the pink and blue binary 
—It’s a Boy! It’s a Girl!—
I made my own birth announcements: 

It’s a Person! 

This person paid attention to words 
before she could speak them. 
One day while her father changed 
her diaper, she kicked her legs and arms 
and he shouted, Hold her Newton!
—his variant of a regional expression. 
She laughed and we laughed and silliness 
became routine. Hold her Newton!
we shouted and laughed and one day 
with a twinkle in her eye 
she grabbed herself with both hands, 
held her Newton and grinned. 

Thus was born a family word 
for the gendered things unspoken 
in public. Walking to preschool one day 
she said, “Everyone has a Newton. 
I have a Newton. You have a Newton. 
Daddy has a big Newton.” 
Yes, I agreed, everyone has a Newton. 
Not all the same. Everyone a person. 

Bio: Kate MacQueen