Diversity, (Actor's) Equity & Inclusion

PART THREE: PRONOUN PRONOUNCEMENTS

When we name things correctly, we comprehend them correctly, without adding information and judgments that aren’t there. ~Epictetus

Recently, in a moment of piss and vinegar, I related the following anecdote on social media:

Was asked today: "How do you self-identify?"
I said, "I don't." Stunned silence.
"What do you mean?"
I said, "What do YOU mean?" Silence again. Grumpy face.
Then the person rattled off their pronouns and other acronyms. "Like that."
I said, "Ah. I think all those things are great. Good for you."  Silence.
Then I said, "I don't self identify. I just try to be myself."
Response: "Wow. You really don't get it."
My answer: "You're right. And I don't want it."

Okay, I admit it. I get cranky around the “preferred pronouns” thing. Part of it is my borderline OCD, pedantic aversion to bad grammar. The more serious issue I have with the practice is the expected—often enforced—compliance with it that I and many others have had to deal with in the workplace. I know who and what I am, and I neither need to specify my gender identity, nor require others to refer to me using special gender-identifying terms.

I brought this out in my previously referenced email to DEI Strategist Ms. Danee Conley at Actor’s Equity, upon completing the Best Practices for Inclusive Theatre Workplaces online course:

I think it’s absolutely essential that there be a free and supportive environment in the theatre workplace for people to share their pronouns and for all to be sensitive to this and use correct words. But I find there’s a lot of pressure for all company members to declare their pronouns—it has become a “first day of school” practice in most rehearsal processes for everyone to introduce themselves with the inclusion of their preferred pronouns.

What if someone doesn’t feel comfortable identifying themselves in this way or making their gender identity the first thing they share about themselves?  I’d suggest that the declaring of preferred pronouns could be done in writing as part of the pre-production paperwork we all do before starting a gig. Put pronouns as an option on the Company Contact Sheet where people can choose to make theirs known along with their contact info, the role they are playing, their food allergies etc. Company management and stage management can communicate to members that they should familiarize themselves with the preferences of those who specified such.  This way it is voluntary.  

Ms. Conley’s response:

In terms of pronouns, it is best practice to share one’s pronouns if they are comfortable; it ideally empowers others who might not feel safe to see the space as one that is welcoming. Sharing of pronouns, I agree, should always be voluntary. I will be sure to let folks know as Business Reps conduct first rehearsals as something to consider.

As in most of her responses to my concerns and comments, Ms. Conley is admirably thoughtful and articulate. And fair. And I thank her for that profoundly.

I am skeptical of the argument that everyone declaring their pronouns makes it “safer” for those who identify in certain ways to share. We are now at a point in our national cultural and social life where non-binary, gender non-specific and Trans people are ubiquitous and the use of preferred pronouns is everywhere. I also feel a need to point out that in the previously referenced 2020-2021 Annual Report from Actor’s Equity, of 51,000 active members surveyed, only 155 identified as non-binary or gender non-specific. While we should honor the identities of this small minority and afford them the dignity they deserve, it feels like grotesque overcorrection for everyone to declare their preferred pronouns at work. I have a friend who teaches hair and makeup and who has a rule in his classes: students address each other, and refer to each other, by name at all times, thus eschewing the pronoun practice.

All this said, I had a very valuable and eye-opening learning moment recently. It was a gift. A real, life-expanding gift.

I was invited to participate in a devised theatre workshop developing a multimedia piece about Trans masculinity. The core story we were exploring dealt with a young Trans man in a relationship with an older, gay, cisgender male. Fascinating subject, and the brilliant director who invited me brought me into a small company of artists for five days. The experience enlarged my understanding of Trans people, of gender fluidity and gender expression, and the importance of honoring an individual’s preferred pronouns.

I occupied my own special minority in this talented group, as a white cisgender gay man, more than 20 years older than everyone else in the room. In addition to our Black director (she/her), we had a white cisgender female stage manager (she/her); a Korean-American cisgender female designer (she/her); our writer was a white Trans man (he/they); the other actors included: a Black, gay, cisgender male (he/him), a Black nonbinary person (he/they), and an Asian-American Trans man (he/they).

The grace and sensitivity with which the “first day of school” circle-up was conducted were admirable. The director asked us to say our names, our preferred pronouns, and a few other interesting things about us like: what song we have on repeat currently, or our favorite winter snack.

When I didn’t share my pronouns, nothing was said. It was not required. I thought, yes!—this is how it should be. The others shared their pronouns, and I came to understand, especially in the work days that followed, why those pronouns help certain people to negotiate the workplace; how they empower them to stand in their truth. It was revelatory.

What was even more revelatory was the lesson I learned when I made a big blunder in rehearsal by using the wrong pronoun, or “misgendering” a fellow actor. I didn’t commit this error until the fourth day of rehearsal. At that point, I’d become comfortable with the group; we were engaging in playful and stimulating creative and intellectual exploration together. But I had gotten complacent.

Now, whether or not they intend to, some people who identify as Trans, I discovered, often exhibit strong characteristics of both sexes. In particular, one of the Trans men in the workshop had a beautiful high “feminine” speaking voice. When I mistakenly said “she” instead of “he” when I referenced this particular actor, I know it was because my association with what the timbre of a “female” voice sounds like influenced my perception of my fellow actor’s gender.

I immediately knew I was wrong, and I was also immediately corrected by everyone in the room—“HIM! HIM!”—as rightly I should have been. Now, don’t let my use of all caps mislead you! My fellow artists corrected me without anger or judgment or condescension. I cannot tell you how much respect and admiration I have for the generosity with which they set me right. We had, as a group, established on day one an agreement that if one made an error with pronouns, one should apologize and move past it—no time or energy or oxygen wasted on it unnecessarily.

Of course, I was mortified to have made this mistake, but I also realized that my mortification was not important. The apology was, and the correction was. And the moving on was.

My learning moment came rushing over me: if I want the right to be exempt from the pronoun pronouncement ritual, I must develop rigorous awareness of, and sensitivity to, others’ preferences and honor them by not making the kind of error I made. I should expect more of myself, and not get complacent or lazy. It was humbling and empowering at the same time. This is how understanding and cooperation happen, I find: not by everyone being perfect at these things, but by the human grace we cultivate when we are imperfect at them.

This completes my probe of the DEI capture of AEA for now, but I will be returning to this in the weeks and months to come. Stay tuned. Stay strong.