On Fri, 31 Oct 2014 12:41:20 -0700, Kurt Busiek
On 2014-10-31 18:55:34 +0000, "Brian M. Scott"
Post by Brian M. ScottOn Fri, 31 Oct 2014 14:09:59 +0000 (UTC), Don Kuenz
[...]
Post by Don KuenzSingular "they" works great for me. It's a "no brainer."
Indeed: it signals a lack of brains.
Yes, I’m aware of its long and illustrious history and other
arguments for using, and no, I don’t actually condemn its
use -- by others. The fact remains, however, that that *is*
my gut reaction to it and at this point probably always will
be.
I've had a lot of discussions about it with my teenage daughter, and
figured out my particular sticking point.
Using "they" as a singular pronoun for an unknown someone, male or
female, works fine for me. It's simpler and cleaner than using "he or
she" all the time, and fairer than using "he" as a default.
I can’t use it. I am usually not believed when I say that
‘he’ actually is gender-neutral for me, or very close to it,
in such contexts, but it’s true. However, I prefer to find
ways to avoid the issue; failing to do so on the fly, I’ll
usually fall back on ‘he or she’.
My daughter, however, knows a fair number of trans or
genderfluid people, and for some, she uses "they" as a
singular pronoun for a _known_ someone, who simply
prefers not to use a gendered pronoun.
I’m not aware of having known any genderfluid people, so I
don’t know what I’d do -- probably ask for a preference. I
have (knowingly) known a few trans people, and with them
I’ve simply used the appropriate gendered pronoun. (Except
once, when I was burned by old habit, having known the
person some years earlier when she was a young man.)
[...]
And there are various made-up ungendered pronouncs, too,
but they sound artificial and wrong in my mouth. To the
next generation, I'm a dinosaur, however well-meaning.
But at the same time, I don't want to give offense with my
saurian backwardness.
So I just avoid the pronoun. "And then Sam needs to buckle
up..."
Yep, that’s pretty much my situation as well.
Brian
--
It was the neap tide, when the baga venture out of their
holes to root for sandtatties. The waves whispered
rhythmically over the packed sand: haggisss, haggisss,
haggisss.