My pronouns are What / The / Fuck, and no, you don’t get to correct me. Congratulations — you now understand the entire problem.
Pronouns were invented for one reason: efficiency. They exist so we don’t have to repeat nouns like malfunctioning robots. He went to the store. She wrote the book. They missed the bus. Boom. Done. Language doing its job. No ideology. No HR seminar. No laminated badge hanging off a lanyard like a goddamn allergy warning.
Somewhere along the way, a tiny, boring piece of grammar got hijacked and turned into a full-blown moral loyalty test. Not content with letting language function naturally, a certain flavour of modern activism decided it needed to be managed, policed, and ritualised—preferably with public shaming for anyone who doesn’t keep up with the latest patch notes.
That’s the bit I’m against. Not trans people themselves – I am a complete and unconditional supporter of a person’s right to change their gender.) The part I have a problem with is the obligation to follow a certain set of rules when addressing a transgender person. Because once you mandate speech, you’re no longer talking about respect — you’re talking about control. And control dressed up as kindness is still control. It’s just wearing a cardigan and speaking in a soft voice while it reaches for your throat.
Let’s talk about the absurdity first. We’ve reached a point where introductions sound less like human conversation and more like a Linux terminal booting up.
“Hi, I’m Alex, my pronouns are he and him.”
Cool. I didn’t ask. I wasn’t confused. And now I’m supposed to remember this forever, under threat of being branded a moral criminal if I forget? Fuck off.
You know what normal people do when they’re unsure? They use a name. Or - brace yourself — they ask politely. That used to be enough. That was enough. Now it’s apparently insufficient unless accompanied by performative submission and a willingness to apologise like you just ran over someone’s dog.
And the apologies are never enough, by the way. You can apologise, correct yourself, try again - and still get told you’ve “caused harm.” Not because you intended to. Not because you were malicious. But because you failed the vibes check of someone else’s internal emotional weather system. That’s not respect. That’s emotional extortion.
Here’s the core problem nobody wants to say out loud: language is communal, not proprietary. You don’t get to unilaterally redefine how everyone else speaks and then act shocked when they push back. You can request language. You can prefer language. You cannot morally conscript it and then cry oppression when people resist. Because once speech becomes a moral obligation enforced by social punishment, it stops being about courtesy and starts being about power.
And let’s be honest — this isn’t evenly applied. The rules are asymmetric as hell. If you refuse to use someone’s preferred pronouns, you’re a monster. If someone mocks your beliefs, values, or identity, you’re told to “sit with your discomfort.” Funny how that works, eh?
There’s also the constant bait-and-switch. “It’s just basic respect,” they say. Until it isn’t. Until you’re expected to memorise ever-expanding categories, affirm metaphysical claims you don’t actually believe, and nod along while language gets stretched so thin it snaps. At some point, they stopped asking for courtesy and started demanding affirmation. Those are not the same thing.
Courtesy is calling someone what they ask to be called in good faith. Affirmation is being forced to publicly validate an ideological framework whether you buy it or not. I’ll happily be courteous. I’m the most courteous, polite person in the world (even though this article may not seem like it). I’m just not signing up for a belief system by HR memo.
And don’t even get me started on institutions — schools, corporations, governments — rolling this out like it’s a firmware update. Mandatory pronoun declarations. Mandatory training. Mandatory compliance statements. Sensitivity consultants. All enforced by the soft tyranny of “culture,” where nothing is technically illegal, but everything is punishable.
This is how bullshit spreads: not by argument, but by fatigue. People nod along because fighting it is exhausting, not because they’re convinced.
Here’s a radical idea: if your ideology collapses the moment someone refuses to say a word, maybe the ideology isn’t as robust as you think? And yes, I know the comeback already. “Words matter.” Sure. So do intent, context, and proportionality — all of which have been thrown out the window in favour of linguistic absolutism.
The world is full of real problems. War. Surveillance. Economic strangulation. Governments lying through their teeth while hoovering up your data like a Dyson on cocaine. And we’re meant to believe the front line of justice is whether Dave from accounting remembered to say “they” instead of “he” at 9:12 a.m.? Give me a break.
So no, my pronouns are What / The / Fuck, not because I’m edgy for the sake of it, but because satire is sometimes the only way to expose nonsense without screaming. If you want respect, earn it the old-fashioned way: mutual goodwill, patience, and the understanding that other people are not pawns in your personal identity quest.
You don’t get to own language. You don’t get to mandate belief. And you sure as hell don’t get to bully people into compliance and then call it compassion. That’s not progress. That’s just authoritarianism with a rainbow sticker slapped on the clipboard.
Now breathe. Touch grass. Call people by their names. And let language go back to doing what it’s always done best — helping humans communicate, not sorting them into ideological compliance tiers.
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