In his biography of William F. Buckley, Jr., Sam Tanenhaus notes that when Muhammad Ali appeared on Firing Line, Buckley began by saying that “of course” he would refer to Ali by the name he chose for himself — something that was not in fact a matter of course at that time among conservatively inclined Americans. It’s a good general rule and widely followed: You call people what they want to be called—within reason.
I say “within reason” because we all know that there are limits. If I were to ask you to address me as “Your Grace” or “Your Excellency” and refer to me as “Her Grace” or “Her Excellency” you would refuse and you would rightly refuse. In general, people try to comply with individual preferences in these matters. I mean, even when Prince chose as his personal signifier a symbol with no possible pronunciation, journalists spent years saying and writing “The artist formerly known as Prince”—or TAFKAP to online fans of The Artist.
But Prince, of course, couldn’t say that you had to call him by that symbol because that was impossible. Periphrasis was necessary, even for the obsequious.
All this to raise the question: What are the limits of the reasonable in these situations? It’s an impossible question to answer without simply kicking the question down the road. If I were to articulate a rule—say, People should be called what they want to be called unless that imposes an undue burden on other users of the language—you would then ask: What constitutes “an undue burden”? But if you acknowledge that that general principle is a good one, then at least we can talk. And most people do acknowledge the principle: For instance, those whose names contain click consonants almost always understand, or come to understand, that people whose languages do not contain such clicks will be unable to pronounce such names correctly. We settle, peacefully enough, for approximations.
What any speaker prefers can only be honored “within reason” because language is a public thing; no one owns it. You don’t own your name, much less any pronouns.
Ah, there it is: pronoun trouble.
Some years ago, when it first became common for people to ask for nonstandard pronouns, there was a lot of conversation about what those pronouns should be. Some people suggested that we create and use new pronouns, like ze and zir or xeand xem, while others preferred that standard plural pronouns (they, them) be repurposed for these cases. Now, the pluralists have won out—almost totally, as far as I can tell.
And that’s unfortunate. My thesis: Using plural pronouns with plural verbs to refer to a single specific person places an undue, an unreasonable burden on speakers. It should be abandoned.
But why? After all, hasn’t it been established that the use of the singular they is something utterly common, that Shakespeare used it, that Jane Austen used it, that we all use it? Well, yes and no. The singular they has always been used, but not to refer to one specific known individual. Rather, it has been used to indicate a range of possibility that could include men or women or both. When one of Austen’s characters refers to “anyone in their senses” we understand that the phrase indicates a universality that transcends the distinctions between the sexes. The singular they has never until quite recently been used to refer to a specific known individual. So this is a new thing and must be assessed as a new thing.
And it’s confusing. It’s often confusing. One of the chief reasons it’s confusing is that humans are social animals and live in relation to other humans. Let’s imagine a pair of sentences: “Kim lives in Waco with their partner Pat. They are Texan to the bone.” That second sentence—does it refer to Kim or does it refer to Kim and Pat? It’s impossible to tell. And this sort of thing happens all the time when people use plural pronouns to refer to a specific person. Sometimes you can make a good guess at the meaning from the context; sometimes a later sentence clarifies things—but sometimes not, and even when it later becomes clear such confusing usage is placing, yeah, I’m gonna say it, an undue cognitive burden on the reader or hearer.
It’s noteworthy that one way to solve this problem, using a singular verb with the traditionally plural pronoun—e.g., “They is Texan to the bone”—has remained untried, as far as I can tell. I’ve asked friends about it and they unanimously think it worse—more jarring—than a strictly singular “they are,” presumably because the strictly singular “they are” is an extension of a familiar practice whereas we have no situations in which we use a plural pronoun with a singular verb…as far as I know.
I’ve also talked to several writers who understand the burden placed on readers when the singular they is deployed in our new way, and who rewrite passages over and over to try to get out of the trap. Those are ethical people: They take the burden on themselves rather than place it on their readers. But this transfer of the cognitive load is not a good outcome either.
So I say: Scrap the singular they, except in the ways that it has been used in the past. Go back to the drawing board. If we must create new pronouns, so be it. Language is a commons, maybe the most essential commons of them all, and none of us can simply dictate to all the other users, though goodness knows plenty of people try. Within reason we should be willing to make accommodations, and as a matter of general practice, that’s what we do. But anyone who thinks the current pronoun regime is a healthy one is out of their mind.