Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    

thanks for sharing the link, jonl.

i've found it a relief that people of my acquaintance mostly seemed to move
past the ze/zhe/zxy phase and into "they," just because it makes things
easier. as a writer, i am sometimes put in the position of defending a 
subject/interviewee's pronoun choice against the preferences of an
old-school editor, copyeditor, and/or style guide. this happened a lot in
the early 2000s, and i felt good about being able to use my little
platforms to spread ideas about gender nonbinary and fluidity issues. 

forcing people to feel like, to identify as, Just a Woman or Just a Man if
they don't want to? an ugly pressure. however, i haven't been delighted
with the opposing pressure of recent years. spending time in progressive,
liberal, academic, and/or arts contexts, i found that the obsession with
gender and gender language became unhealthy, a shibboleth for tribal
definition and judgment in some cases. working with students in their
twenties (they'd now be in their thirties), i sometimes got the feeling
that vehemently denying their bio-birth-gender and insisting on "they" was
another way to put down femininity, womanhood, and femaleness. in other
words, internalized mysogyny. 

i remember reading 5-10 pages of a graduate
student's thesis in which she-or-they (she was okay with either) delineated
all the reasons she-or-they was NOT FEMALE. she-or-they who wore dresses,
long hair, lipstick, married a man, exhibited great amounts of
traditionally feminine traits such as empathy and tenderness. not only did
these pages have little to do with her thesis, but the writing seemed to
contain a disgust for trad femininity, rising to levels of self-loathing. 
would we celebrate this relationship to identity if it were a person of
African heritage insisting, "I am NOT BLACK"? 

i myself have hardly lived as a traditional female-feminine-dame throughout
the entirety of my adult life.  i'm probably 85% cisgender, maybe. but much
of my own resistance to trad-fem, i concluded a bit later in life, really
was a result of this misogynistic, patriarchal culture, and how many
second-wave feminists had adopted that culture's values.

quite recently, i've been surprised to hear from several very liberal,
progressive women-born-biologically-sexed-women-who-still-identify-as-
women-female people describe how they feel marginalized and pressured by
the current wave or trend. (since i've never had a clean, easy relationship
with my own trad-fem aspects, i haven't felt that pressure much.) one is a
gifted writer and educator who is actually leaving academia as a result of
this. she feels judged and belittled for bein' a lady in a dress.
  

    
Singular "they" and "their" re-emerged in recent times, in my
experience, as a way to avoid the choice of "he" vs. "she" and "his"
vs. "hers" in response to early feminist pressure to avoid the old
"he includes she" when there is no explicitly identified feminine
antecedent. Singular "they" emerged fairly rapidly as less clunky
than "s/he", for instance. But in the early stages of this
development, "they" and "their" were in no sense non-binary. It was
a linguistic convenience for avoiding such constructions as "he or
she [as the case may be]".

And that's where I was before this topic. I am only just realizing
that singular "they" and "their" have progressed to a new level
where they are *signalling* non-binary gender possibilities. I
haven't thought about that before. 
  

    
I teach four online courses and have my students introduce themselves at the
beginning of the semester. I'm delighted at how readily they state their
preferred pronouns (I ask, of course). I don't know them well yet, but it
seems it just doesn't matter that much to them.
  

    
Hi hi wanna jump in and say this is all really interesting
conversation so far, I've got many thoughts, so I'll just start: 

*just want to be sure this is said: if you are a cis person in this
discussion, please remember this is not a discussion about whether
or not 'they' should be used as a gender-neutral pronoun, rather,
it's an opportunity for those of you who aren't in circles who've
assimilated to the use of the singular 'they' to ask how you can
incorporate it into your vocabulary and ask about how queer culture
has changed language since we've broadened identity-related
terminology. If you find yourself saying things like 'but is that
the most effective linguistic choice? 'will people ever really catch
on?' 'why not choose a different pronoun than one that people are
already used to using in the plural sense?' please think about how
those questions may be invalidating to non-binary people like
myself* 

Definitions from me: 
1. The singular 'they' is used as a pronoun for an individual when
a. you do not know the gender of the person about whom you are
speaking, b. the person about whom you are speaking identifies as a
gender other than the one they were given at birth and prefers to be
addressed without gendered language (like myself). 
2. 'Non-binary' can mean a. not relating to or comprised of two
things, generally, but also b. a spectrum of gender identities that
cannot be categorized as strictly masculine or feminine

I am not a boy nor a girl, so she/he didn't feel right for me.
'They/them' was a chance for me to change the way I spoke about
myself and the way others spoke about me, so I could stop seeing
myself as a girl and perhaps other people would stop seeing me that
way as well. 

The idea behind gender-neutral pronouns and behind someone's
decision to  change their pronouns at all (ex. binary trans people
may ask to be addressed by 'he' instead of 'she' or vice versa) is
all about power and control. There's a lot of power in words, and
they're often weaponized against us, especially those of us whose
identities are little understood; when we decide to redefine words
for ourselves, to reclaim words, to use words that are meaningful to
us, we take control over our own identities. 
Cisheteropatriarchial culture teaches us to give up control over our
identities (especially those of us who are female bodied or whose
identities are marginalized in other ways). My pronoun change was my
way of taking my identity in my own hands, of describing it in my
own terms, rather than allowing someone else's terms to define me.
It was a way to empower myself through language, and when other
people use my pronouns and start to understand how binary our
language can be and begin to change that for themselves, it makes me
feel like I have a little more power over who I am and who I can
possibly be. I have no idea if this has answered any questions
people had but here ya go anyway 
  

    
That post answered all my questions and then some. I love this
topic. It has been a while since I last experienced my mind opening
up like this.  Thanks!
  

    
Yes. 

More and more, I’ve found myself saying, “I don’t identify as a
gender” or “as a gendered being.” As I reflect now — for which
impetus, much thanks — I realise that I have been using “non binary”
with rising, and gender-fluid diminishing, frequency. 

My self-identification is a variable. I don’t need other people
pasting terms on me. That is without confronting my Aspie allergy to
labels. 

Emma’s words, “Cisheteropatriarchial culture teaches us to give up
control over ouridentities (especially those of us who are female
bodied or whose
identities are marginalized in other ways).” ring loudly in my
personal bell-tower. 

I am cognitively and (invisibly)physically disabled. Cisgendered
neurotypical people cause harm in my life, and the lives of many
people I know, and rely on, “But I didn’t mean to!” as if it were an
infinite waiver form. I’ve had more straight white cis female
self-defined allies respond to news that they have hurt someone
respond with a hand on the heart, an outburst of emotion, and a cry
of “but I deserve to have my feelings heard!” I cannot imagine how
that would feel to a child who, testing the waters of discussing
LGBTQ issues, is met with that in a parent. The power dynamics at
work are harsh enough, and there is weightier baggage in walking
away from family, although there is little ease in walking away from
that which pays the rent. 

I am aware that the barrage of aggressions and micro-aggressions is
far worse for disabled not-straight (or straight-presenting,
although that is another satchel of complexities and questions)
people of color. 

“It” would offend me. I remain fairly certain that I am not (yet) an
inanimate object. Save that for when the leftovers are becoming one
with the body farm. 
  

    
Shannon slipped, or the underground connection made my post slow to
load... 

My continuity hiccough was unintentional. 
  

    
To my ear "It" is non-gendered and not inanimate, but my ear doesn't
matter here.

"Sally's new baby was born yesterday.  I know *it* was seven pounds,
but I haven't heard the gender yet."

"We saw a mountain lion on our hike.  *It* was huge."

Again, how you hear it is what matters.
  

    
Those are fair examples. 

Let me suggest that it dehumanises non-infant people, and perhaps is
intended to do so. If I imagine being called "it" during a
conversation with my employers tomorrow, it does not sing prettily
in my ear, and the scents it carries are not wholesome. 

Have you tried that -- imagining being referred to as "it" in a
conversation? If so, then how did it feel?   
  

    
I wouldn't care, but I have not been misgendered most of my life nor
had whI am rejected.  So, I wouldn't have a reaction to a one time
thing or wonder if there was something more behind it, like a
rejection of who I am.

I hate this terminology because I think has become weaponized, but I
am privileged.
  

    
Early in this topic I asked, "Why not 'its'" The question was
intended to be sardonic in a context that I didn't yet understand.
It was an exploratory thought in an exercise that I thought was
essentially grammatical. The principal problem with that question,
as I now better understand the context, is that this topic is mainly
looking at an emerging usage by a community of non-binary people and
those who support their preferred language choices. It is not, as I
mistakenly thought in the very beginning, an exercise in solving
grammar problems. It is an exploration of already existing usages
and those who adopt those usages.
  

    <scribbled by jet Wed 5 Feb 20 18:42>
  

    
Typo foul!

I teach a lot of not-white-English-speaking students and have learned
a lot just chatting before/after class.  I think we (westerners) can
learn a lot by listening.

Here's one I never noticed before -- Chinese doesn't have gendered
pronouns.  I just figured it was as hard for Chinese students to learn
English as it was for English speakers to learn the 4 tones, 8 tones,
or even more tones of some Chinese languages.

Nope, I was wrong.  After extended contact with european-based
languages they developed some workarounds to try and reflect he/she/it
in Chinese but it doesn't work well.  Chinese students who learned
English in high school or college often stumble over pronouns and
switch to sentences where they avoid pronouns.

An English-speaking student might say, "Ask him to repeat his question
because I didn't hear it" while a Chinese student would say, "I
couldn't hear the question, can you [me, the professor] repeat it?"
  

    
<lrph> I appreciate your admission in 8. Figuring out how to
navigate this after decades of life — and life *with someone* — is
work.

I’m often struck by how fluidly my late-teen/early-20s college
students adapt. Many of them anyway are able to have “their” roll
right off the tongue when referring to an absent nonbinary
classmate, while it still takes conscious thought for me most of the
time.

It’s easier for me with students who used “they” pronouns from the
time I met them. Students who I’ve taught for, say, two years as
“he” or “she” ... well, I’ve laid down tracks in my synapses that I
have to undo. 

<oemmasue>: any advice for helping folks remember others’ pronouns?
(LOVE “they’re so cool, btw, not least because you are!)
  

    
Thanks for that post, magdalen.

My self identity varies also, and most of the time I do feel like an
it. Person. One of those figures on a traffic sign.

I don't feel strongly enough about it to need a term. I look female
and am okay with that.
  

    
I suspect the only reason gendered pronouns evolved was to make it
easier to avoid ambiguity. Normally the only time I use a singular
they is when the person is generic or their sex is unknown. (Maybe
if I knew people (or were aware that I know people) who prefer to
not be called by he or she, him or her, then my usage would be
different ... but I don't know that I know any.
  

    
)
  

    
One of my straight friends has adopted "they" as his baseline in
referring to other people. "If they let me know they prefer 'she' or
'he', then I'll use that," he says. "Until then, I'm going with
'they'."
  

    
Now that I've been using they for the person I speak to and about
pretty much most of all, I find myself using they for cis gendered
people. I find myself going through all the pronouns to get to the
correct one the same way I call Emma their brother's name, Graham
and call Graham, Emma: as in, I know who you are, I just got
tongue-tied. 

And I also realize that my silly, mindless slips hurt people. People
I care about. And people I don't even know. 

It's hard to change how to refer to people who change their pronouns
after you've already known them a different way. 
  

    
#29 straightened me out on some things I was confused about. Thanks.
  

    
I have to say I LOVE using the word human or person over boy and
girl.

As a teacher of young people, I now know better than assuming the
gender identities of my students. I have the opportunity to teach
what I'm learning to a new generation. When I speak about Emma to my
students, which I do often, I use their preferred pronoun (duh).
Interestingly, none of my students question they in the singular.
Hopefully, I am also letting my students who identify as non-binary
know they aren't alone and that they have one trusted adult who gets
it. 
  

    
"Hopefully, I am also letting my students who identify as non-binary
know they aren't alone and that they have one trusted adult who gets
it."

That is a greater gift than you may know. Through art and simple
honesty, students come out, offer confidences about disabilities,
and reveal themselves in emotionally risky ways in my classes,
partly because I am openly at ease with all I am. Having another
person who is open -- particularly an adult, teacher, or teaching
artist -- in the room creates space where students can be relatively
brave, and can test the waters of speaking about themselves. 

During my first session with a class, we create community rules. The
class builds them, and we break them down. What does respect look
like? What does it mean not to judge someone for being different, or
holding an opinion that is unlike yours? 

I am a mandated reporter. When we set up "What is said here, stays
here -- no gossiping, no mentioning it (even to the person who said
it) outside this space; we hold each other's truths in silent trust"
as part of the community framework, I let them know that. I'll keep
the silence, except when someone is in danger or is a danger to
someone else. 

Openness and honesty... It takes both. 

Imagine the hazards created by a ______ist teacher who pretended to
be open to all. It's a scary world out there, for students.

For the past few days, I've found myself particularly aware of my
residence in a bubble. The world my students, my in-transition
friends, my friends in general, and I inhabit is so very different
from the ones where other people live. 

Whilst I could -- and probably shall, at some point in the remainder
of our fortnight together -- go on about calls to the crisis line
where I volunteer, what's keeping the socio-political chiaroscuro
fresh in my mind is North Dakota passing a law that "prohibits
gender–affirming medical care for transgender kids". Doctors who
break the law could face up to a year in jail. 

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2020/01/south-dakota-transgender-minor-he
alth-care-bill/

How much -- or how much _more_ -- could pronouns and recognition
matter to a teen whose gender choices are illegal, who cannot take a
self-making journey available to people in other places on the same
land mass -- and to be unable to choose to move to a place where one
can be/become oneself? How much more urgent is thoughtful speech
when communication happens in a place where oppression is open to
the point of being celebrated, where denial is stitched into the
laws of the land where you place your feet and break your bread,
where a doctor who wants to treat you might land in jail for the
very act of helping you be you (so great a burden for the child as
well as the physician)? 

It is a privilege to be able to speak about pronouns, be it in an
online forum or around a table, without fear of repercussion. It is
a privilege to be able to speak lightly about pronouns as I
establish and re-establish mine. It is a privilege that puts me --
all of us, here -- in a minority. In the vast sprawl of the world,
there are many places where the equivalent of "Call me 'they'" or "I
am not 'he', but 'she'" would open a can of irritated asps. 

My current mind-snare. 

Trust is earned. You show courage, Lisa, in putting your heart's
coins on the table, and betting on the value of transparency,
vulnerability, and your own trust in the students to hold what you
tell them. It may not win everybody, but it will give hope to more
than may reveal themselves. 

And so I skirt back again to the hidden and the veiled, and to the
light cast by the right-use of a word. 
  

    
<bumbaugh> my advice for remembering pronouns is to first compare it
with forgetting someone’s name. If you’ve met someone before and you
can’t remember their name, you can either 
a. try to cover up for it by not using their name in the
conversation 
b. take a guess or 
c. JUST ASK 
Choice ‘c’ is usually the hardest (because it’s embarrassing to
admit you forgot or didn’t know) but is also the easiest and most
polite way to get a reminder and avoid making assumptions
  

    
In my line of work I get a lot of opportunities to make that choice, and I
can tell you C is the way to go.
  

    
I am openly vile at remembering names, and have grown fluent in the
offering of apologies and requests for reminders. 

Some things and some changes take time. Trying counts.