The New Neutral

By C. Nowak

When I arrived on campus for my first year of college in 2011, I quickly became acquainted with the practice of being asked for my personal pronouns when meeting new people. In those first weeks of college, when every face was new and when I was trying desperately to learn the unwritten rules of the school, I was asked the question over and over. In one house meeting I attended, a fellow first-year student answered that she used feminine pronouns and gestured to her outfit with a laugh as if to say, “Of course, I’m a woman. Look at me.” She earned herself a correction from the meeting’s leader; one can’t assume a person’s gender or pronouns based on how they dress or present themselves. The question was not a joke, and answers must be taken seriously.

Most of my peers at this women’s college were cisgender women and were expected to answer with a flat “I prefer she/her pronouns.” But in most large groups, especially among upperclassmen (upperclasspeople?), there would be some who would state a preference for “he/him” or for a neutral or non-binary pronoun. The question was so common in both social and academic situations that the college’s Office for Equity and Inclusion eventually published an official explanation of pronoun etiquette.

In Massachusetts in 2011, non-binary pronouns took several different forms: they/them was the most common, but I encountered people during my college years who used ze/zir, xe/xem, and ey/em. These neo-pronouns were viewed by some students as a solution to the perceived problems of the singular epicene they/them. Was they too impersonal? Should you say, “They are…” or “They is…”? Would others be more reluctant to accept a shift in usage for an old word than the creation of a new word?

Back then, the use of they to refer to a single, known person was a hotly contested issue, as discussed in The New York Times Magazine’s “On Language” column in 2009. According to the article, the singular usage was accepted by some dictionaries and style guides and rejected by others, but the pronoun was well on its way to becoming standard. The article also cites significant literary precedent for the epicene they, dating back centuries, indicating that this use of the word is not as novel as it may appear to some linguistic conservatives.

They’s big moment in mainstream grammar finally arrived in 2019, when Merriam-Webster named it “Word of the Year.” The dictionary noted its increasing popularity to refer to non-binary people and mentioned some famous cases of non-binary people in the media from the year.

As much ink has been spilled in recent years on the epicene pronoun(s), the English language seems to be adapting. In English, changes in gender are a simple matter of replacement: only the pronoun needs to change in most sentences. But in other languages, like French, changing the grammatical gender of a subject or subject pronoun has implications for many other parts of the sentence, and the rigid grammatical structure has not yet been bent by pioneering linguistic activists. 

In a grammatically correct French sentence, many parts of a sentence are gendered, and the genders must agree. Creating a sentence about a non-binary individual in French is not simply a matter of deciding on personal pronouns, but also agreement of adjectives, articles, nouns, compound verbs and impersonal pronouns. There is an assertion by some French grammarians that the masculine form itself can be used as a sort of neutral or “unmarked” form. This is because in many cases in contemporary French, masculinity takes priority over femininity. For example, famously, a group of 100 women and 1 man would be referred to using the masculine plural ils instead of the feminine plural elles, despite the womens’ overwhelming majority. Recently, there have been several vehement rejections of this idea, especially by linguist Éliane Viennot in her 2014 book, Non, le masculin ne l’emporte pas sur le féminin! 

If the need for language to discuss non-binary people is becoming more and more accepted in English, then what about non-binary people in French-speaking countries? To what extent have Francophone non-binary people been able to adjust French’s rigid grammar to suit their needs? French feminists and professional women have seen significant success in in the last few years to normalize so-called “gender inclusive” terms in professional contexts: for example, calling a woman president la présidente instead of le président and allowing other parts of the sentence to agree with that gender-swapped title. This kind of alteration to professional titles was the subject of significant popular debate in France in the latter half of the 20th century, but has become quite commonplace in the 21st century. This shows that there is some flexibility for the French grammar system to change alongside French society.

In response to Merriam-Webster’s “Word of the Year” announcement in 2019, Huffpost France published an article about how the singular epicene pronoun is sorely missing in French, while noting that some alternative pronouns are gaining in popularity, notably iel and ille. But just as when I was an undergraduate in the US, there does not appear to be universal agreement on which pronoun(s) will best suit the needs of non-binary French speakers. Other alternatives include: yel, ul, ol, olle, ael, ielle, æl, aël, im, em, ulle, al, i, and el. Beyond pronouns, there have been suggestions for modifications to the French grammar system, but they all deviate significantly from the standard.

The French language can be slow to adopt linguistic changes that reflect societal changes. Within France, the official agency that regulates language, the Académie Française has been known to take conservative stances on alterations to the language, especially with regard to gender issues like the inclusive professional titles cited above. The Académie has no power to enforce its rules within French society, but its declarations on proper usage are widely accepted by French-speakers in France and around the world. English, on the other hand, with its unwieldy, ungovernable flexibility seems much more capable of adapting to the reality of gender in the 21st century.

Louisiana Holds Tight to its French-Speaking Heritage Despite Historical and Present-Day Barriers

By Karaleigh Saar

Louisiana, with its rich history of diverse inhabitants, is known as an (albeit small) corner of the francophone, or French-speaking, world. Though the territory, itself, passed through many hands before being ceded to the Americans in 1803, the French language is still a staple of the cultural groups who had long since made their homes there, such as the Acadians, who came from Nova Scotia. The Acadian people speak their own distinct dialect of French that differs slightly from the standard metropolitan French with an incorporation of both Spanish and Native American words. The predominately white Acadian people are more commonly referred to now as Cajun. 

Though generations of Cajun families in Louisiana had created a rich French-speaking culture, an American push for monolingualism and the establishment of English as the sole language of instruction in 1921 led Cajuns to lose faith in their own culture. Many Cajun people were denied the ability to speak their language, as it was no longer taught even at the high school level, and the speaking of Cajun French was stigmatized in general. It was not until 1968 that there was a serious resurgence of efforts to preserve French in Louisiana. With the creation of the Council for the Development of French in Louisiana (CODOFIL), the state sanctioned the preservation of French as a cultural cornerstone of Louisiana. The first step to preserve the language was to develop a French language education program, which they had to build practically out of thin air. 

Due to assimilationist policies enforced by the English-speaking majority and its institutions, entire generations of Cajun people found themselves being publicly shamed and punished for their French-speaking. The fear and punishment that these generations experienced influenced the decision for many to not carry on the language to their children. Louisiana soon found itself with a shortage of eligible local French teachers to start their program with. Not only was there a lack of native Louisiana speakers, but in the early years, the leadership of CODOFIL viewed Cajun French unfavorably compared to standard metropolitan French, even going so far as to say that Cajun French is broken and ungrammatical. As a solution, native French-speaking educators were imported from countries such as France, Belgium, and Canada. Even now, teachers from all over the francophone world are finding their way to Louisiana to continue the legacy of French in regions all throughout the state. 

This brings us to the eager-to-teach Alice Renard, a Parisian schoolteacher who relocated to Mamou, Louisiana this past summer (2019). Mamou is an agricultural town located about three hours from New Orleans, and—much unlike Paris—it is home to only around 3,200 people. Ms. Renard is one of the native French-speaking teachers who was recruited from abroad to serve in CODOFIL’s French immersion and French as a Second Language programs in 2019. According to the Louisiana Office of Cultural Development’s website, this year’s group of teachers is composed of educational professionals coming from France, Belgium, Canada, and even Mali. Encouragingly, there are also a few teachers who are Louisiana natives, although no exact numbers were shared. 

While it is uplifting to read about the linguistic opportunities being offered to more and more Cajun descendants or just Louisiana school children as a whole, by examining the case of young Ms. Renard, it becomes clear that however enthusiastic the resurgence of French education in Louisiana has become, there is still a distinct lack of education in Cajun French as well as a not-so-subtle language hierarchy in place. Ms. Renard was not shy to admit that she was rather unprepared to teach any of the Cajun French dialect. Her students—the majority of whom have traditionally Cajun last names such as Desormeaux, Guillory, Thiboudeaux—will be learning and speaking hexagonal French that would most likely be nearly unrecognizable to their Cajun ancestors. In fact, according to an article by Barry Jean Ancelet, the teaching of metropolitan French just enforces the idea in older Cajun communities that their dialect is inadequate. I find it important to note here that there are certain efforts being made to teach and legitimize Cajun French as a written form; however, these efforts are not central to the basic framework of the Louisiana educational system. Nevertheless, many belonging to the small school’s community seem to be earnestly enlivened by the program. The elementary school’s principal, Mitchell Troy Fontenot, is an example of a Louisianan with grandparents who primarily spoke French and who, reflecting on his inability to speak the language, remarked that the children in Ms. Renard’s class “are going to have so many more opportunities than we had.” 

Louisiana is but one of many centers of bilingual and immersion schools in the country, and the numbers continue to grow. As explained by Robert Slater, a senior fellow at the American Councils for International Education, the United States has seen a “growth explosion” over the last decade of dual-language immersion programs that are not specified only to French, but also feature programs with Spanish, Russian, and Mandarin. As of 2019, it has been estimated that there are at least 3,000 such language immersion programs in the United States. What’s more, is that seemingly, the students who are enrolled in these dual-language programs are surpassing their monolingually-educated peers. Therefore, the question is not whether or not programs such as the one in Mamou, LA are beneficial to the students. It is clear to see that the course of action taken by the state of Louisiana to create French immersion programs is opening new horizons for the up-and-coming generations. The real question is whether appointing foreign teachers with little to no knowledge of Cajun culture and dialect are actually helping to preserve Cajun culture, in the long run. In my opinion, the answer would be no. 

While criticizing a small and under-funded organization such as CODOFIL may not add to the solution, one has to wonder whether the celebration of French culture that is taking place might be more superficial than genuine. In a 2018 video about the resurgence of French in Louisiana, CODOFIL executive director Peggy Feehan clearly emphasizes the economic and touristic benefits of the French-speaking culture in Louisiana. Therefore, it seems that the culture that Cajun people were once punished for claiming has become an economic opportunity for the state. Hopefully in spite of this, Cajun language and culture can continue to rebuild footing in Louisiana and be shared for generations more. 

Sources

Ancelet, Barry Jean. “A Perspective on Teaching the ‘Problem Language’ in Louisiana.” The French Review, vol. 61, no. 3, 1988, pp. 345–356. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/393154. Accessed 6 May 2020.

New French Teachers Arrive in Louisiana, www.crt.state.la.us/cultural-development/codofil/news/new-french-teachers-arrive-in-louisiana-2016.

Fausset, Richard. “Louisiana Says ‘Oui’ to French, Amid Explosion in Dual-Language Schools.” The New York Times , 23 Aug. 2019, Louisiana Says ‘Oui’ to French, Amid Explosion in Dual-Language Schools.

Steele, Jennifer L, et al. “Dual-Language Immersion Programs Raise Student Achievement in English.” Rand Corporation, 2017, https://www.rand.org/pubs/research_briefs/RB9903.html.

Thiery, Clément. “The Rebirth of Cajun French in Louisiana in Classrooms and Online.” France-Amérique, 15 Mar. 2018, https://france-amerique.com/en/the-rebirth-of-cajun-french-in-louisiana-in-classrooms-and-online/.