HERO OR HEROINE

Dear Spike:

I suppose I should explain how we came to call you ‘Spike.’ It’s not that we’re cruel people. Or white trash. We were just having a bit of trouble with pronouns.

But then, you haven’t heard of pronouns. So I guess that's as good a place to begin as any.

Words are important. Please do not allow anyone to convince you otherwise. Words may be spoken; this is how you and I will first communicate. Words may also be written, as I am doing now and, in time, you also will learn to do. I hope you will learn to do this well.

Among the most important words, and the first you will learn, are nouns. People, animals, places and things are nouns. Ideas may be nouns. Even the word ‘noun’ — derived from the Latin ‘nomen,’ meaning ‘name’ — is, in fact, a noun. Funny how that works.

At one time many English nouns would change form depending upon the gender of the person being described. For instance, men were ‘authors’ while women were ‘authoresses.’ These days, there are far fewer gender-specific nouns common to the English language, though we’ve persisted with a few. Men are ‘actors’ while women are ‘actresses.’ Men are ‘waiters’ while women are ‘waitresses.’ You get the idea.

At some point we realized, especially where spoken language is concerned, repetition can be awkward, even ugly.

Perhaps an example is in order. Were I to rewrite this letter without the use of pronouns, it would begin as such:

“Spike’s father supposes Spike’s father should explain how Spike’s father and Spike’s mother came to call Spike ‘Spike.’”

OK, to be fair, this is actually quite fun. Unfortunately, you will be beaten up in school if you persist in speaking this way. And as it is a very important part of my job, as your father, to keep you from getting beaten at school, I’ve opted to teach you to proper pronoun use.

For whatever reason, even as gender-specific nouns have disappeared from our language, gender-specific pronouns have persisted. Men are ‘he,’ women are ‘she,’ and only in the company of others does gender no longer matter. A group of men are ‘they.’ A group of women are ‘they.’ A group of men and women together are ‘they.’

But in reference to an individual, the properly used pronoun is always gender specific. This causes all kinds of mischief, particularly when the gender of the subject in question is unknown.

Which brings me to you, Spike.

At the moment, if our estimates are correct, you are perhaps 5 to 7 millimeters long — about the size of a pea. Your heart is the size of a poppy seed. Two pits have formed on the sides of your head but your eyes have not yet developed. Your arms are beginning to take shape but, for the moment, you have no hands to speak of.

And, for now, we’ve no way to know whether you are a boy or a girl — whether you are a ‘he’ or a ‘she.’

In the first days after learning your mother was pregnant we used our pronouns interchangeably. I was inclined to say ‘he.’ Your mother was inclined to use ‘she.’ We both avoided the dehumanizing ‘it.’

But a few days of this was enough. “I don’t want to jumble my pronouns any longer,” your mother told me. “I think we should give our baby a temporary name. I think we should call it ‘Spike’ “

So it now occurs to me that doesn’t exactly explain where ‘Spike’ came from. To be honest, I’m not certain where your mother came up with that name. She’s an interesting soul, your mother. But more on that later.

Please rest assured, we’ll not actually be calling you ‘Spike’ after you’re born — at least not officially. We already have come up with some splendid names for you, though we’re keeping those a secret until you arrive.

But today I wanted to let you know that it matters not to me which pronoun we ultimately use when speaking of you.

He or she. Boy or girl. Hero or heroine.

You will be loved. Unconditionally. And forever.

Love,
dad