Anticlea Occidentalis, Mountainbells

Day 266: Mountainbells...Anticlea occidentalis. You might notice a similarity in the second half of this plant's Latin binomial to the one I posted yesterday: "occidentalis" and "occidentale." I am not grounded firmly enough in Latin to be able to explain the distinction other than to say it has to do with the gender attributed to the first half of the name, Thalictrum being masculine, Anticlea being feminine. Most European languages are gendered. For example in Spanish, "the table" is "la mesa" (feminine) and "the car" is "el carro" (masculine). You go along just fine assuming words ending in -a are feminine until you hit "el problema" and "el agua" (both masculine as evidenced by the article preceding them). I can vouch for the fact that it works the same way in German, Russian and presumably French (another Romance language, i.e., one which originated in the vicinity of Rome, not one with which you can woo a lover). Russian doesn't have articles, but nouns are gendered, and German even includes nouns with the non-gendered article "das." You thought this essay was going to be about the plant, right? Wrong.

I've recently taken Park-sponsored two trainings dealing with diversity. One was focused specifically on gender identity while the other skirted the edges of it without adressing it fully. I failed to connect the subject to botanical Latin at the time, but the more frustrated I become with shifting taxonomy and in particular changes which only happen in order to bring both halves of the binomial into gender agreement, the more strongly I feel that gender should be expunged from language altogether, and if articles are necessary, they should be there merely to specify the somethingoranother belonging to "them," or to "their" possessions.

At first I resisted they/them/their because of my singularity. I'm not two people, not plural, and neither are you. That said, language is a continuously evolving entity. Many people of my generation will find it hard to unlearn the stock "he/she/his/hers" words because they have been taught us since birth, but we should make an effort. I am willing to embrace new vocabulary (perhaps moreso than some of the rest of you because I deal with taxonomic changes on a daily basis) and also to try to eliminate from my speech those sneaky gendered words we toss about so freely ("you guys" falls from my tongue all too frequently when I am addressing a mixed group).

While I doubt that I'd ever be able to convince the taxonomists that it would be a lot easier to talk about "Thalictrum occidental" and "Anticlea occidental," I trust my readers not to be so dogmatic. Plants may not take offense at being mis-gendered, but some of your human friends might.

Gender Identity

Day 127: Today, I want to talk to my readers about gender identity. Don't walk off, dammit. I'd like to introduce something you probably haven't considered. In a way, this will be my "coming out," and no, I am not gay.

When the words "gay," "bisexual," "heterosexual," "transsexual" and others are listed in one place with the option to choose one as your preferred gender identity, there is no box for "non-gendered," no choice for "none of the above." Admittedly, I am built like a woman. That can't be denied, but the stereotypical gender markers are absent in me. I don't like babies, romance novels or cute clothing. I dress in a rather masculine style because frills and ruffles don't fit my outdoor lifestyle, but I am not interested in cars, hunting or beer parties. Although I'm tiny, I have been addressed as "Sir" on more occasions than I care to count due to my square-shouldered posture and assertive walk. That said, I have been married (twice), have been in several relationships, have had numerous crushes, but the attachment in my mind has always been philosophical, not physical. When it came down to field testing (if you take my meaning), my response was invariably a bored, "Can we hurry up and get this over with? There's a lichen I want to check out before it starts raining." But more importantly, I do not identify with a gender. I'm just...me.

Strangely, the idea of being non-gendered has drawn the same reaction from many of my friends, both heterosexual and gay: "There must be something wrong with you." Some of them have attempted to change me, employing the same "this can be fixed" attitude that has been suggested to "cure" their own gender identities. That response baffles me. What's wrong with not being interested in a particular recreation (because that's what sex is, after all)? I don't like golf or baseball, either.

Love is broader than gender and physicality. Friends have often described my relationship with Nature as "intimate." That word has a larger definition than how it applies in the bedroom. It includes understanding the moods and whims of my partner, taking care of her, at times placing her welfare above my own. She rewards me by providing food and shelter, and by revealing to me some of her innermost secrets: close views of wildlife and rare plants. But try entering "In a relationship ... with Nature" on your Facebook account! Nope, that's not going to happen until "gender identity" includes those of us whose passion is given to abstractions, and who dismiss bedroom business as a dreadful bore.