On the first day of each of my classes, I ask students a
simple question: What pronoun do you prefer? Usually, the question is met with
giggles. A few faces are left looking bewildered. And, a few others offer an
accidental smile from the feeling of the cogs slowly turning in their heads.
Based on the initial responses to the question—not the answer, but the
visceral, embodied responses—I have a brief moment to make sense of where
critical engagement might begin, how it will unfold, and what it will engage.
Of course, the question of if a person prefers “he/him/his,”
“she/her/hers” or “they/them/theirs” and so on is important in the first
instance as an instructor, because assuming a student’s gender identity (along
with other categories of “difference”) or misrecognizing how they choose to
identify could cause a student to shut down for the semester or too easily allow them to
epistemologically buy into a method of self-evidence. So, I attempt to turn
this practical need into a critical teaching moment. I try to trouble an
assumption that most students hold and bring with them when they walk into the
classroom: that gender (or race, etc) is fixed, rigid, given—and whether
socially or biologically registered, easily determined. Gender identifications,
like all other “operational acts of identity,” are far from fixed, and so to
those still giggling and to the whole class, I ask: Would you refer to an engineering
major as a humanities major? How would you know if you didn’t ask? So why are we so quick to assume—due to a
linguistic rule coming from English’s gendering of pronouns and a “seeing is
believing” approach—that we know what we’re talking about when we’re talking
about (and to) other people?
The exercise, and the first meeting, usually ends with
students already critically reflecting on assumed and inherited ideas that
uncritically become naturalized over time. They tend to leave, if nothing else,
questioning what they can or do know about others and on what accounts their
knowledge is grounded. Usually, this knowledge ends up directed at their own
“identity”: What pronoun do I prefer?
And how does my preference relate to the choices and preferences of my
classmates? How did I arrive at those preferences? Where did I learn them from?
Why is it that I rarely question or reflexively analyze them?
It is towards this sort of example that we continually refer
back throughout the semester, as we think about epistemology, meaning, religion
and identity and difference, and theory and method.
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