Content warning: discussion of misgendering, colonial violence, dispossession and ableism
It is a truth universally acknowledged in plain language circles that personal pronouns will improve your text.
When used well, pronouns are welcoming and inclusive. They trim long phrases and repetition. And they enliven stiff, formal wording.
Slogging through long nouns and passive phrases
Let’s take a look at some procedural text that could really use a few more pronouns:
The administrator, on informing creditors of his or her appointment, shall also inform creditors of the possibility that their identities may be disclosed through the publication of a creditors’ list. Creditors are to be provided with a window in which to inform the administrator that the creditor’s contact details are not to be published. Thereupon that creditor shall be listed only by amount of debt on any list provided by the administrator.
The 2 main players are the “administrator” and the “creditor”, both long nouns that are repeated several times each. These words, combined with an excess of passive voice, dull the text and make reading it a slog.
What would happen if we cast the administrator as “you” and the creditors as “them” instead?
When you tell each creditor that you have been appointed as administrator, you must also:
tell them you might publish a creditors list that discloses their identity
give them a deadline to withdraw their contact details from the list.
If a creditor does withdraw their details, you may list them only by the amount of debt they are owed.
With these pronouns, we are suddenly talking to and about actual people. We can see where they are missing from awkward passive sentences and should be reinstated. And we can start to clarify the steps the administrator must follow.
This example clearly shows us the value of personal pronouns. But they do need to be used with care in some instances, and that’s where this post changes tack slightly.
Misgendering and upholding the gender binary
The first thing to watch out for is misgendering and making assumptions based on the gender binary. The passage above falls into this trap with a passing reference to the administrator as either a “his” or a “her”. Almost as bad as the slash-ridden “he/she” and “his/her”.
What if the administrator’s pronouns are “they” or "ze"? There’d be an immediate barrier between writer and reader because the text is unrepresentative and exclusionary.
Referring to people by the correct pronouns is an absolute fundamental of communication today. It may be more likely to come up in verbal communication – in office conversations and Zoom meetings. But it’s highly relevant in written forms too.
If you have any concerns about using “they” in the singular, you can relax. The myth that “they” can only ever be a plural has been debunked time and again. (I’ve referred to Gael Spivak’s related blog post before – it’s definitely worth a look for the list of articles Gael has collected.)
Supporting colonial notions of possession
The other note about pronouns relates to the possessive pronoun “our”, which can be problematic in some contexts. It’s fine for “our company” or “our strategic priorities”. But it’s one to watch (read: avoid) when referencing a group you don’t belong to, especially if you’re in a position of power and the group is marginalised by comparison.
Collaborating with our Indigenous communities, as the Traditional Owners of these lands, has been a major priority in the past year.
This workforce strategy will improve outcomes for our disabled population.
It might seem that these phrases demonstrate inclusion and acceptance – a coming together of diverse peoples. And as a white, non-disabled, cis-het woman, I’ve been guilty of this kind of thinking. What I didn’t consider was how that tiny possessive pronoun might sound from the perspective of the people I was talking about.
The clue’s in its name: possessive.
In a colonial country, we know possession is a dangerous concept. Settlers have dispossessed First Nations communities of their land, families and culture for generations, in pursuit of European notions of civilisation and ownership. So from that seemingly harmless 3-letter pronoun, we find links to a whole history of prejudice.
Society has a similar history of seeking control over disabled bodies and identities. It has long told us that what is “broken” must be fixed, in a paternalistic display of care that leaves little room for disability pride or personhood. In this light, the phrase “our disabled population” takes on new meaning.
So use pronouns, but use them with due caution. Remember that they can be clear and inclusive, as long as they’re not supporting age-old power imbalances.
When you’re unsure, defer to another core “truth” of plain language. The reader should always, always come first.
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