{"id":10356,"date":"2019-01-01T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2019-01-01T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.uvm.edu\/aivakhiv\/?p=10356"},"modified":"2021-05-16T05:48:56","modified_gmt":"2021-05-16T10:48:56","slug":"pronoun-radicalism","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.uvm.edu\/aivakhiv\/2019\/01\/01\/pronoun-radicalism\/","title":{"rendered":"Pronoun statement"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

As more people attach pronouns to their names (“she\/her,” “they, their,” et al.), both in print and when speaking — intended as a way of respecting and “normalizing” pronoun preferences beyond the simple binary of “he” and “she” — I’ve come to recognize a certain awkwardness in one of the common variations: the use of the plural “they, them, their.” In my mother tongue, Ukrainian (and in a few other languages I know), the plural “they” (“\u0432\u0438, \u0432\u0430\u043c, \u0432\u0430\u0441, \u0432\u043e\u043d\u0438, \u0457\u0445, \u0457\u043c”) is reserved for respectful speech toward and in deference to elders, rather like the old-fashioned word “thou” in English. Asking<\/em> to be referred to as an elder feels inappropriate, especially when the request comes from someone far from being an elder. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the same time, I recognize that I (and I think I’m not alone here) do not necessarily want to have to announce my sexual identity whenever I speak. It’s my business, something to protect perhaps and to reveal selectively, but not to flaunt. My solution to this double dilemma, however, is not to do away with a respectful practice — respectful both to those who prefer neutral terminology and <\/em>to elders and others deserving of respect. Instead, I would like to propose that we normalize the plural<\/em> by making it available to everyone. We are all “they,” and we are all “we<\/em>.” (After all, we also don’t want to reaffirm the dichotomy between “us” and “them,” do we?) <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coincidentally, this would allow us to respect the plurality of each<\/em> of us — something a growing group of philosophers and psychologists have argued is naturally the case. Human individuality is singular in principle — a principle our highly individualistic society prizes — but in practice this individuality, and especially modern, neoliberal hyperindividuality<\/em>, is both an achievement and, in a cross-cultural sense, something of an aberration. Most societies have traditionally valued harmony, belonging, togetherness, and solidarity at least as much as they have valued individuality. <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

In any case, I’ve decided to add a “they\/their” line to the end of my emails, accompanied by Gilles Deleuze and F\u00e9lix Guattari’s second sentence from A Thousand Plateaus<\/em> (Milles Plateaux<\/em>): “Since each of us was several, there was already quite a crowd.” (Comme chacun de nous \u00e9tait plusieurs, \u00e7a faisait d\u00e9j\u00e0<\/em> beaucoup de monde<\/em>; or etymologically, “there was already much of a world,” “many worlds,” or, my favorite, “a beautiful stroke of a world”).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

* * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All of that said, I have to this point generally been addressed by male identifiers, and I’m fine with that. I’m also okay with being addressed, in writing, as “M.” (the gender-neutral variant of “mister,” “missus,” “miss,” “master,” “monsieur,” “madame,” et al.). I realize that asking for anything other<\/em> than “he\/him\/his” can be a form of “cis privilege,” since there’s little at stake for me in all this when compared to some other people. My real preference is that we all be addressed respectfully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A (not entirely tongue-in-cheek) side-note: I also considered asking to be addressed as “she\/he\/it,” or “s\/he\/it,” pronounced as in the word (in some dialects) for dung. This would have at least three notable advantages: <\/p>\n\n\n\n