“Do unto others as you would do unto yourself.”
– Jesus
“Do unto others as you would do unto yourself.” That’s about as simple as it gets.
If I wish to be called by a specific pronoun then why shouldn’t I be. If I identify as an It, or an it, or an i… then you should be respectful of my feelings, shouldn’t you? You should treat me as I would treat you.
I will call you anything that you would like me to. If you want to be a he/she then… poof… you’re a he/she. If you want to be a zir, zer, zim, zod, zam, zing, zow, zowie, or zimpleton that’s fine by me.
Oh, wait, those all sound too much like Dr. Seuss wrote them, we can’t use those terms because I hear he’s being removed from all of the school libraries for being too offensive. We’ll have to come up with something else.
“But… I identify as a zim zowie zod… why can’t I be a zim zowie zod?” I ask.
“It’s too offensive!,” says the pronoun policeman.
“Too offensive to whom?” says I.
“Too offensive to US,” says the pronoun policeman.
“Who is US?” I ask.
“Us is the people who decide these things… silly.” says the pronoun policeman.
“Wait… don’t call me silly… I’m a zim zowie zod,” I say.
“Not anymore you’re not,” says the pronoun policeman, “Now you are silly, and it is against the law to be a zim zowie zod because zim zowie zod sounds too much like Dr. Seuss made them up, and Dr. Seuss spreads evil.”
“Wait… what?” I gasp.
“You heard me silly. You are spreading evil by having a pronoun that we don’t approve of and if you continue we’ll shut down all of your social media accounts, put you in pronoun jail, and take away your social credit so that you can’t even buy anything from Amazon. So… cease and desist using zim zowie zod immediately or suffer the consequences.” says the pronoun policeman.
“How is zim zowie zod offensive?” I ask. “It’s just a pronoun.”
“It’s offensive because we say it is… silly… and if you persist in questioning me and my authority with these, obviously, ridiculous and disrespectful queries I will be faced with the terrible task of kicking you off the social media platform forever. Stop! Immediately! You zilly person,” he says.
I reply tearfully, and merely whimper, “But I’m not zilly. I’m a zim zowie zod.”
“That’s it!” yells the pronoun policeman, “You are going to jail for offensive pronoun use. We have warned you more times than should be necessary and you insist on persisting. Come with me. You’ll be gone for a long, long, time.”
And the moral of the story is…
“Be careful what you wish for… you may get it.”
But what do I know?
I’m just a dumigod.