Pronouns and parodies

Some days, I swear, when I open my Facebook feed, I’m tempted to immediately switch it off, drowning in a flood of vexatious opinion certain to trigger my worst reflexes. Much as I’m tempted to respond, I rarely do, knowing that FB comments don’t really soften hearts and minds, but only make them harder. Also, I’m not the witty sort with one-liners that will go viral; my thoughts and words like to ramble, stray and even go wrong, but at least you know it’s not AI or the “Forward” button at work.

Two topics did get me a bit worked up last week, and I’m going to use this column to write the kind of long social-media comment I never make. You’ll recognize both of them instantly if you haven’t been living under a rock.

The first was that picture of a seated gay “personality” (I’m never quite sure how persons become “personalities”) lecturing a waiter standing at parade-rest, reportedly for two hours, on gender sensitivity, all because he called her “Sir.”

There’s a part of me that understands how and why that happened. Some will call this silly wokeness, but in UP, we take our students’ preferred pronouns and names seriously as a sign of respect for the person.

But what I also know is, when I teach, I stand, and my students sit. That’s not to emphasize my authority, but so they can relax, listen and hopefully imbibe what I’m telling them. I realize that The Lady said she invited the waiter to sit down, but I also understand why he declined. Staff don’t sit for a chummy chat with customers. And imagine this: if I (an old man, dirty or not) were the customer and I felt poorly served by a female employee, and I asked her to sit at my table for two hours while I educated her on the fine points of etiquette, would or should she oblige? And I hate listening to or giving long lectures. If I can’t get something across in 20 minutes max, then I’m a lousy teacher.

There’s politics which can be good and right – and people who may not be. Some of the most politically savvy people I’ve met have also been, as some would say, that part of you where the sun don’t shine.

The other hot topic, of course, was the “Last Supper” tableau at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Paris,