Imagine a reader. What do they look like? Whether they’re reading a scientific textbook or a ‘zine, it doesn’t matter, but what does matter is the first image that came to mind when you began to visualize a reader.

For most of my life, any text I read assumed that the reader was male. As I grew up, things changed to include the “he or she” phrase, but why do we have to attach gender to the imaginary person reading our work? Why do we automatically assume that only a “he” can read a chemistry textbook and do labs therein? Why do cookbooks assume that the (home) cook is a woman?

This is because our language has been overhauled by an authoritarian patriarchal society. Those who control language, I’ve found, control power. Noam Chomsky, one of the most well-known linguists of our time, said in a 1989 interview that “language change is actually misleading…the idea of a national language is a pretty modern one.” He was referring to the change in the French language from Middle French to Contemporary French and how it is different from both Germanic and Romantic languages in several respects.

This idea applies to English as well—the drastic changes our language has undergone since it’s birth as a Celtic-like language have been incredible, but what is up with that pesky gender association?

Feminist writer Amanda Montell has said, in her book “Wordslut” that “there is… no single rule we can all follow here… in every case, the context and intent of the conversation will factor in. I have my own personal language preferences…” Gender is just an ingrained part of the English language, according to her argument, but she does say that not every language is quite so binary. She’s stated that several other languages include different genders and their associative pronouns—like the First Nation’s Zuni tribe which ensures space for Two-Spirit persons.

The issue with gender in English is that there is no room for people who identify as anything other than men or women. However, we are seeing an increase in discourse about this very problem—with the introduction of the “mx.” honorific, and the potential for “ze” to become a nonbinary / 2 gender non-conforming pronoun.

That was wordy, but it’s only because our language doesn’t allow us an easier way to talk about people who don’t conform to the gender binary in our culture.

So, here is my argument: the reason it’s so difficult to make space for gender non-conforming persons is because the authoritarian patriarchy does not allow for vulnerability—and proclaiming that one does not conform to a gender binary can be an especially vulnerable moment.

Authoritarian systems take advantage of vulnerability and the “vulnerable other.” That’s why Americans, in general, (I know, it’s a blanket statement; bear with me) consider something like the single person “they” a personal affront to their “American Personality.” This then gets back to Chomsky’s argument of nationalistic language.

Let’s take a look at some of the English purity arguments. My favorite is that one should never split an infinitive. In an article on JustPublishing, Derek Haines gives examples of when a split infinitive works, and when it doesn’t. Haines says “you could say that the rule is that if it sounds awkward, don’t split, but if it sounds natural, you can happily split the infinitive.” So, it doesn’t actually break any rules “to boldly go where no man has gone before.” It’s an old rule from way back when English speakers were attempting to Latinize the language. Latin conjugates verbs so it’s physically impossible to split the infinitive, but English is a language that just has two-word infinitives.

Here’s another old rule, and one that I’m all too familiar with hearing: don’t end your sentences with prepositions. I can still hear my mother crying this at us when we inevitably did. But it’s the same story here. Back in the 17th Century, language purists wanted English to be more like Latin so they pulled rules from one language to the other, and we’ve been dealing with the myth ever since. Lexico.com even states that “ending a sentence with a preposition is a perfectly natural part of the structure of modern English.”

Now, why did I feel the need to tell you about prepositions and split infinitives? Because I wanted to illustrate that language is in constant flux. There is no right or wrong way to speak a language that you’ve known all your life, but there is something wrong with people in power telling others that they cannot speak their language to help identify themselves with their own gender identity. If someone identifies as gender-fluid, there should certainly be a word to let someone say that.

The use of language as a tool of the authoritarian power must come to an end. English doesn’t gender inanimate objects, but it insists upon the forced gendering of people who don’t ascribe to that gender? It makes no sense, and it doesn’t allow people to be both vulnerable and protected. Shouldn’t a society founded upon a belief that all individuals are entitled to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” want people to feel safe and free?

Those who control language, control power. So, I say that we must take control of our own language and use it to shape a world we want to see, rather than a world we have been forced to unhappily navigate. Let us show that vulnerability is indeed a powerful concept. Let us show that there is a power in vulnerability—for everyone. Let us go out and speak our wonderful and imperfect English.

Article by Cheyenne Heavener