Thursday, September 1, 2011

Transgender and Pronouns: Becoming the Third Person



"You can be me when I'm gone"

Neil Gaiman
Sandman

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Much critical attention has been given to the rhetorical and ontological motions of asserting "You" and "I," and given the implicit presence of the self to (re)act on the assertions of identity bound up in these words, even quietly or subversively, we can speculate on their prominence over third-person pronouns. "He," "She," "They" and "It" if they are used in reference to us are largely spectral, certainly indirect affirmations of the self (or not).

Our physical presence is no longer assumed but in fact made passive or dismissed in acts of becoming third-person. Which pronouns are chosen, what constitutes them (such as in the collective sense of "they") and the statements connected play on our diminished ability to (re)act and we become, in a sense, no longer in control of our-selves/identities.

The games of our names, those words that serve as our avatars as we transform into linguistic agents, reveals to us our multiple presences and how the self becomes a thing as a result of communal actions. It is the terror of gossip  (mis)quotation and the like that "we" can be invoked, shaped and caused to enact (our identities) through the person of others. It is at the same time a matter of trust but also of necessity that we should become present in the third person. As such, it is understandable why we are often so anxious about how this is done.

For transgendered persons, transitioning the use of "he," "she" or other pronouns in their community is often an emotionally tense process as it admits the vulnerability or dependence of their identity to others. So much can be done to transition the body in "isolation" of sort, but changing names and pronouns are all the more contingent on the (re)actions of others to affirm the change; and others can resist this. Trust, even courage becomes necessary when the mantle of self-dependence or invulnerability must be dropped in such a way. It is a form of contingent identity which all persons in some ways deal with, but that the transforming and queering away from rote categorization makes explicit.


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Likewise whether or not and how things/persons are regarded as "it" are problematic but significant. Issues of intentional or systematic objectification are one form of becoming "it" we must contend with; much like the use of "they" to represent othered or depersonalized parties. In other ways, bodies are often regarded as "its" for the sake of medical and scientific procedures which can cause a stir for different reasons among patients. Offence can arise out of the dismissal of personhood bound up in becoming an "it." It can also arise out of the tendency to not regard the self, the body, as an "it," insofar as we often tend to ignore it as active materials and mechanisms. In this second way, but not in the first, we might find an appreciation for becoming an "it" as we must acknowledge, certainly for the sake of treatment, the material and objective status of ourselves. Situations such as the status of bodies before birth and after death offer their own issues of pronoun usage in addition to those mentioned, given differing perspectives on the contingencies and constitutions that define the human and the person; much of which goes beyond the scope of this entry.

The use of the word "they" and becoming identified under its signification enact a variety of ambiguous effects, in part due to the way in which "they" is going the way of "you" (for different but perhaps related reasons) to refer both to individuals (in a neutered manner) and to groups. In this way the use of "they" offers a sort of queer space of identity insofar as gender is concerned to exist in a kind of anonymity. In another way, the use of they (in regards to a group) can be problematic in terms of what or how much is included under its umbrella.

There are some objections, particularly by those who believe in a kind of individual essentialism (which has been commented on in other posts) that objects to any motion of representation or grouping beyond the limits of what they have defined as the self. This objection is interesting in one respect in that it is sensitive to the fact that it IS (re)defintion or a form of defining the self. More than "these things are alike" or "these things go together" there is a sense that "they" forms a kind of "it" which transforms things linguistically into one body/identity.

There are then proponants of the "they" which would embrace its use for its opposite motion of transforming the singular identity into a communal or plural one. Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari in regards to molecular multiplicities, and in some ways Bruno Latour and other philosophers of ecologies, could see the use of "they" even in reference to what would normatively be regarded as a singular person as appropriate insofar as it recognizes the plurality of the things/persons that contingently, actively are present in it and with it. This reasoning comes close to some theories of the shift in English from "thee" and "thou" to "you" in which the latter was selected out of an intention to reference not only the person but the whole estate of things which they represent; as in the inverse of "the royal we."


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Returning to the issue of "these things are alike" or "these things go together" aside from the creation of a molecular identity, there is a sort of identity formation in terms of relation or relatability. This touches on the communal and ecological sense of the self and to regard "English-speakers" for instance as "they" is to make a statement that there is an ecology or kind of (potential) relation active between them. This also sets a form on the person(s) which likely does not encapsulate or accurately define the parameters of their identity, in part because of the difficulty at any boundary of a person to set a form which is not displaying a pronounceable trans-forming or queering of itself. Even mapping they ways in which things relate is troubled with the use of "they" as it often categorizes based on terms which may be at the same time ambiguous and narrow. In this use of they, like the other uses of "they" could be used to include the non-human or inorganic as well, to define a third-person which comes into being out of the ecological actions of diverse, molecular agents.

To conclude this meditation we can observe: in using the third person we necessarily invoke and act in the dignity of each other's person; we/they are really present and act in that moment, even if only to represent or stand in for an identity; the game of "us" and "them" becomes performative and a form of drag-linguistics. If there is a take away "ethic" from this meditation, it is to be aware of the others presence and our acting in their personhood. We are in some respects responsible in acting in that mode as if they were present to (re)act and in others take upon ourselves the sensitive, if not trusted, position of being more than a representative or arbiter, but enactor and creator of personal identities.

Here, but all along, we can see how becoming the third person in a necessary act in our queer materiality as we transform across/between things. To be an active agent in the world, to be a thing at all, we must act through mediation and the parameters of our "human" bodies may not be present or capable of perceiving much of our expansive ecology. We become our selves through transforming with things, books, people and language among other things, which means a surrender of our complete autonomy and consciousness of all that has, does and will define ourselves; unless we likewise consider each other likewise elements of our self-consciousnesses and sensory network (which we should and is a topic for another post).


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Friday, August 26, 2011

The Tempest of Identity in Green Day's 21 Guns




"Did you try to live on your own
When you burned down the house and home?
Did you stand too close to the fire
Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone [ / storm]?"


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I originally "misheard", or rather queered, these lyrics, which I understood to be mixing the images of fire and storms as the face of the ecology which the protagonist had attempted to isolate themselves from. Looking at them again, stones work just as well, but does different things.

In these readings of the lines above, we can see an inversion of the concept that walls of technology and the social which construct "house and home" do not divide the self from nature, ecology, or just simply every-thing else; or do not divide enough. We can see this in the retreat of the true/natural self from the ecology of the environment into the technological, from the technological to the biological, from the biological to the spiritual and perhaps even from the spiritual into languages, forms and nothingness. The effort to define the I as separate and independent becomes the act of looking at things as saying "No, that is not me." It would seem logical then that more than being ineffable, this methodology should lead to affirming an essential no-thingness; that's all that's left when you get rid of everything else.

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We can see in the image of burning down the house, a harmonic with Michel Serres's reading of Rene Descartes, in which the methodology of the Cogito is taken to be like reducing a home to ashes so as to get rid of all the para-sites, everything that lives WITH the self, in the self and as the self. Serres argues that this is as futile as it is violent, for in any new building which will replace the destruction all the para-sites return.

Taking the image of the fire, we see one level of the futility of this attempt to seal off the self by refusing the materiality and the ecology of the self, the fire is a thing and nothing is lost by burning it away; except forms. The mistaken identity of the hole returns, insofar as the intensification of matter to the point in which is transforms beyond recognition is read as an annihilation. Things become a fire and become afire, dancing with its own vibrancy, life, queerness and intense performative becoming. Things are trans-formed together in the fire. The fires of purgation become transfiguration, not a hellish insinuator into which things are disposed of and disappear forever. Eventually we must acknowledge the things our fires become, and this may be in part the captivating agency of the fire to arrest our attention to the point of "standing too close;" is it that we see ourselves already in it?

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Taking the image of the stone, we see another level of futility of trying to form an identity out no-thing. Stones have their own temporality, motion, transformations and agency (as this post is inspired by the recent environmental phenomenon I am experiencing in DC & Maryland I am called to think of the recent Earthquake). But stones also demonstrate the motion of things to resist motions. The "no" they articulate defeats many narcissistic attempts to see the world as submissive extension of the self, rather than a multiplicity of selves in their own right that have their own wandering paths. This "no" to certain becomings, and its adamant "yes" to others (explored in Jane Bennett's chapter on metals and minerals in Vibrant Matter) is an important concept to Queer Materialism, as queer things / persons are often performed as to aerial, too things and wispy to ever had moments of consistency. Things constantly transform, but at different speeds, different intensities. That this this is a "rock" or a "rock and roll" song is perhaps fitting, for we must "rock" if we are to be queer, or any-thing at all.

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Taking the image of the storm (the inspiration for this post, with the impending hurricane), particularly combined with the idea of living fire, we at the same time see an intense vision of the queer, molecular

(Deleuze and Guattari) and dark (Timothy Morton) ecology of things at work.

The darkness of storms is becoming apparent to me as the hurricane system descending on us not only says "no" to solar light but transforms power-lines into things which are no longer conforming electricity into a path to my apartment building (this has not yet happened, but I expect it to). In Morton's conception of "dark" however, which he acknowledges relates with a supposition of a "queer ecology", is that unlike the harmonious vision of nature in which things have proper rhythm, balances and normative forms, the ecology of things are more accurately dynamic, clashing and constantly deviating from norms. Watching a storm or a weather forecaster makes this apparent, weather is hard to predict and often surprises us in the forms it takes. It is imaginable how and why we might suppose a persona, Thor / Zeus etc., may be guiding it; not because of its sense of order and purpose but out of its apparent free will to "do what it will" rather than follow simple deterministic paths.

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The molar identity of the tempest as a "thing" is a funny, as it is so apparently an molecular ecology of many things that enter into, act as, and then leave the storm machine, and as it so emphatically a becoming rather than a being in a way which makes it no less an identifiable thing to be reckoned with. In these ways, molecularity and becoming, the storm is like fire a very clear image of identity as "transforming things." Clouds of atoms become the molecules which become my body, storms of electrons in the brain become consciousness, and the tempest of my books, apartment, caffeine, hormones, colleagues (new and old!) will become my professional-self this year. As I become-storm this weekend, I hope however that I do not trans-form too much and likewise that the "stone-ness" of my apartment (specifically the windows) is able to hold its own in the argument over which way things go.

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The queer identity of tempests and the tempests of identity have been in my mind, particularly in their queer register, since last year's "Tempfest" at George Washington University; and Jeffrey J Cohen's discussion of Margery Kempe's becoming-tempest in Medieval Identity Machines. Besides the tempest of weather which brings together and moves things / people (i.e. trans-forms them) there becomes a tempest of actors which in turn transform the lives / persons of the island.

In Sandman by Neil Gaiman, Dream has Shakespeare write 2 plays for him personally in exchange for releasing his genius: A Midsummer Nights Dream (as a way to help the world remember the fae as they leave Earth) and the Tempest. When Shakespeare asks Dream why he wanted this play and why he had the wizard destroy his staff, drown his books and abandon his island (of identity) when the story would have been more interesting if he had tragically persisted. Dream responds that he wants a story about a transformation in which someone is able to escape / change the things he is, because he (Dream) does not feel able. Morpheus's tragic self-blindness aside, this does open up how we are bound up in / as our things and that resisting the tempest of queer disorientation that forces us to change brings about unneeded suffering.

Like the eye of the storm, there is hole in the center of things / identity / persons that twists things in new directions and at times we break down and other times we can ride along with the storm and leave it relatively unchanged.

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A word on repentance, on "seeking forgiveness from the storm" : this has to do with orientation, and as Sara Ahmed in Queer Phenomenology discusses, a queer orientation is usually one that is directed towards things that move, slip and without a starkly defined sense of inside and out. In this way, repentance is like a constant re-orientation and that forgiveness ( to for (outwardly) give ) comes in releasing ones-self from "the lie" of separation and stillness; of an identity without transformation; of an ontology that is not overthrown by queerness.

That said, I am now stuck in some senses alone and still for the next two days as the hurricane passes. Still, I am sure we (all that is brought together to become this tempest) will be having an adventure.


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