In light of Lil Duval’s (who?) antics on the Breakfast Club last week, it has me thinking a lot about pronouns.
The first time I was asked what my preferred pronouns were was in a college creative writing course. Kiese Laymon, my professor, on the first day did that shit that all teachers do on the first day of classes, but with a surprising twist.
“Everybody go around and say your name, major, and preferred pronouns.”
The concept of pronouns was not foreign to me, but it was still new. Not only could one identify as “he” or “she” but also “they.” As everyone said their names and their pronouns, everybody seemed to identify as cis-gendered.
Maybe I’ll go into detail about this in another post, but as my turn approached, I thought about being the odd bitch out and calling myself “they.” It was something that I’d contemplated in private before but never had the opportunity (nor the desire) to announce out loud.
Let’s not forget, I’m still in Mississippi. At the most Mississippi institution to ever exist. I wasn’t going to risk it, no matter how progressive these folks came off.
“My name is Victoria, I’m an English major, and my pronouns are she/her.”
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d somehow denied a piece of myself in the name of not making myself a spectacle.
Fuck Lil Duval, honestly and truly. From the depths of my heart. It’s one thing when the pressure to name your identity is self-imposed, but wholly different thing for someone else to take that agency from you, THEN DO IT INCORRECTLY. And fuck the three stooges at the Breakfast Club for entertaining that ignorance.
Do Better. Y’all know the niggas that listen to this show take what they hear and take a mile.
And you let the bullshit fly.