Inside my head is a crowded boardroom of rowdy committee members. They include all the ways I can be crazy which, when they each have an equal vote, result in my acting somewhat normal. There's every side of every argument. There's my inner child, my inner Momma and Papa, and a whole slew of inner critics. Jammed in there is the person I'd like to be and all the people I ever was. Every feeling is represented. When I'm feeling shy, there's a brave part of me struggling to be heard. When I'm feeling confident, another part is trembling with fear. So if I had to be honest, the pronouns that would be the most accurate to be used for me would be they/them/theirs. They're the ones that correspond to the state of things inside my head. Looking within, I see multitudes. However, the committee is something I prefer to keep in the closet. I like to present in a unified front, after the committee members have voted who’ll be sent into the world to represent them. Furthermore, I think other people would rather not have to deal with all of us at once, so I spare them the confusion. If they knew how divided I am when I say I love you or I promise, they wouldn't believe a word I say. Most of the time, the part of me I show to the world would have the pronouns he/him/his. So, if you'd like to use them, I won't object. But if you picked up some feminine energy emanating from me, go ahead and use she/her/hers. I’ll try not to be offended, I promise. I don’t know, it’s never happened yet. At least most of me won't be. A small part might be offended, the insecure male in me; but the rest of us have got him tied up in the basement, so he doesn't come out and act like an ass. Like everyone, I’d like you to recognize whatever it is I'm putting out into the world. If I'm as caring as a mother, I don't want it mistaken for the possessiveness of a jealous boyfriend. If I'm angry, I rely on male energy to intimidate. I want other people to see me the way I want to be seen. Life is just a whole lot easier when we agree on the terms. But, the truth is, once we put ourselves out into the world, we can't control how others perceive us. Your interpretation of me might pick up on things I'm not even aware of. Maybe you see the femininity I'm unconsciously projecting, or maybe you notice the masculine facade I'm trying so hard to maintain. I don't have the final word on who I am to everyone. I don't even have the final word, myself. Part of me is afraid that if I told you my preferred pronouns, I'd be committing authorial overreach, like when authors try to control how readers interpret their work, insisting there's only one correct way to read it, their way. If I tell you my preferred pronouns, I'm not just describing myself, I'm trying to dictate how you see me, how you interpret me. It's fine to be the author of my own story, but if the reader gets something else out of it, who am I to say they're wrong? Authorial overreach may be why so many people might resist calling me by a pronoun that's not apparent to them. Because I have a beard, they'd be surprised to hear me ask them to use she/her/hers. Most would be uncomfortable at the incongruity; the polite ones would comply, when they remembered. Some would say, what kind of woke nonsense is this? They're not just conservative or reactionary. They're trying to protect their autonomy. They don't like to be commanded to ignore the evidence of their own eyes and asked to participate in something that doesn't make sense to them. By the way - can you see the advantages to being plural inside? I get to debate things within myself and see every side of an issue. The disadvantage is, when I’m expected to share my pronouns so others will be comfortable sharing theirs, an argument breaks out inside me. Parts of me want to support them. Other parts want to be seen. Still other parts don’t want to be outed. If I had enough power to dictate how everyone talks about me, I'd be more tyrannical than any dictator ever was. If I had that kind of power, I'd do away with pronouns completely. I don't like what they do to people. Think about what you do when you use a pronoun. You take a person's name, with all the singularity it carries, and replace it with one of two or three signifiers for everyone. It depersonalizes them. It erases everything that's special about them. There's an irony here. In trying to make pronouns more personal, more reflective of our individual identities, we end up forcing ourselves deeper into categories. We try to jam the infinite complexity of human consciousness into two or three linguistic boxes. Whether it's he/she/they or any other set of pronouns, we engage in an act of reduction, of simplification. After much debate, my committee has reached a decision: just call me Keith and we’ll all be happy. If you must use pronouns, use whatever feels right to you when you see me. If you perceive a nurturing presence, she/her/hers will let me know. If you see a masculine energy, he/him/his works fine. If you somehow sense the crowd behind my eyes, they/them/theirs would be most accurate. They're all true, they're all me, and they're all inadequate to capture the fullness of who we are. The vote wasn't unanimous – it seldom is. But we've learned to live with that too. You're currently a free subscriber to The Reflective Eclectic. For the full experience, upgrade your subscription.
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Monday, 9 December 2024
Why I'm Too Precious For Pronouns
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