This opinion piece – featured in The Linguist 64(4) (p. 30–31) – was inspired by Georgia Meakins’s illuminating article in The Linguist 64(2) [Gender evolution (p. 16–17)] where she explores the process and challenges of making French gender-neutral for the sake of meeting the growing demand for inclusive writing in recent years.
I situate this piece of writing in the context of Hong Kong, where Cantonese is the dominant language and Traditional Chinese characters are used in writing. Despite the fact that Cantonese is largely gender-neutral – masculinity or femininity of a word can only be deduced by the preceding morpheme, such as 男人 (man; lit. “male + person”; naam jan) and 女人 (woman; lit. “female + person”; neoi jan) – the perception Hongkongers have of traditional family structures and gender roles still seems to be significant.
As a translator and copyeditor who seeks to contribute to queer emancipation, I have been working closely with academic researchers and organisations that are active and vocal in LGBTQ+ movements and queer linguistics. In recent years, not only have I seen a welcoming surge in the use of singular “they” in English-medium publications, mainstream media, and online discourse, but I have also noticed the emergence of a few gender-neutral third-person singular pronouns in Chinese writing, which makes a refreshing change or, indeed, a mini-challenge whenever I am translating into Cantonese.
When we look at third-person pronouns in colloquial Cantonese, you may be surprised to learn that 佢 [keoi] refers to “he”, “she”, “it”, and “they” in the singular form, whereas 佢哋 [keoi dei] refers to plural “they” (哋 [dei] is the plural marker). However, it is a completely different story when written: in the singular form, “he” is 他, “she” is 她, “it” (animals) is 牠, “it” (inanimate objects) is 它, and “He” (deities; primarily the Christian god, created by missionaries who translated the Bible) is 祂. Although these characters are written differently, they are pronounced identically as taa.
Focusing on he and she, the key to distinguish them is to look at the radical – the semantic component on the left. 他, which contains 亻, a squashed pictographic 人 (lit. “person”), was originally a genderless pronoun; however, as a result of the New Culture Movement in the early 20th century, it was modernised and turned masculine. Meanwhile, 她, introduced then to highlight the female gender for better translation of Western literature, has a radical of 女 (lit. “female”). Similar to everyday Cantonese, the plural marker in written Chinese is 們 [mun], where 他們 [taa mun] is the default pronoun for persons of unknown gender.
Concurrently, in mainland China, he, she, it, and He in written Simplified Chinese and spoken Mandarin are exactly the same – 他, 她, 它 (for both animals and inanimate objects), and 祂, respectively – of which pinyin are all ta. To this end, mainland Chinese netizens started adopting the romanised TA as the gender-inclusive third-person singular pronoun, like 佢 in conversational Cantonese, on social media platforms and in other digital spaces, while keeping the plural marker 们 (or 們 in Cantonese), in order to avoid using cumbersome phrases like 他或她 (he or she) where gender information is irrelevant or unimportant.
Across the border in Hong Kong in 2015, the local intersex advocacy group The Missing Gender 0.972 invented the neopronoun “㐅也” or “x也” with the non-case-sensitive alphabet x (and 㐅也們 or x也們 in the plural form), in which the radicals in 他 (masculine) and 她 (feminine) are replaced with an alternative gender marker 㐅 (lit. to mow (archaic); ngaai) or x – similar to how Latino/Latina/Latin@ becomes Latinx in Spanish – to create a space of belonging where the diversity of gender identities and lived realities can be visible and validated.
The coinage of “TA” and “㐅也” appears to be a high point in language evolution and awareness campaign, it nonetheless raises a number of practical questions, such as:
- How would TA be perceived in formal writing, given its being an internet slang and not a Chinese character?
- While TA is extensively used by mainland Chinese netizens, is it the pronoun preferred by most of the non-binary individuals there?
- Against a backdrop of political and cultural dynamics between Cantonese and Mandarin, would Hongkongers embrace TA?
- Since 㐅也 is currently a two-character word on screen, would it only be more widely recognisable if it were made into one typable character and adopted into Chinese input methods using the QWERTY keyboard?
- Does the 㐅 radical in 㐅也 diminish non-binary people because it lacks human qualities?
- Can Hongkongers instead adopt the colloquial 佢 into formal discourse, which is unique to Cantonese?
Given how new these pronouns still are, it is only natural for language professionals to ponder the above questions when they localise contents into Cantonese. Nevertheless, there is one golden rule that we can rely on: be consistent. For instance, the Transgender Resource Center in Hong Kong uses TA in its publications and resources so TA should be used in all official written materials.
If there is no style preference (yet), it would be wise to consult the client and discuss with them to see whether they prefer TA, 㐅也, or something else. It may be time-consuming, if not fruitless, at first – there has not been a consensus amongst queer Cantonese speakers after all – but it offers everyone involved an opportunity to reflect on their own experience and understanding and to make best collective efforts to push for mainstream adoption of any emerging pronoun.
Locally, in Hong Kong, while there is not a one-size-fits-all solution like the singular “they” in English, it is vital for Sinophone linguists to continue to engage in open discussions, practise active listening, keep an open mind, and use language to (re)shape how we and others perceive the contemporary world. This is particularly important in the current sociopolitical climate, as anti-LGBTQ+ attitudes and opinions are overwhelming amongst the unitarily pro-establishment lawmakers. As such, equal rights and legal recognition for the queer community still hang in the balance.
Globally, amidst the normalisation of far-right discourse in the public sphere, which may, to a certain extent, be facilitated by uncritical media platforming, hostile attitudes and extremist views concerning minority communities and “woke” ideologies are on the rise. In the face of such a widespread phenomenon, I consider it a bounden duty for us, as linguists, to exercise the linguistic power that we possess to educate and inform ourselves and others with whom we work of how to use inclusive language as a catalyst for change, however small it might seem.
By and large, we are living though a time of ugly vitriol and toxic hatred, only if we remain mindful of our linguistic repertoire can we, in all conscience, challenge prevailing populist radical right narratives, safeguard and empower marginalised voices, and fight for equality and social justice in a humanised and non-violent way.
Image: RDNE Stock project