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My favorite cuisine is the Indian cuisine, and my favorite dish is the paneer makhani. It's absolutely delicious!

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For this first entry, I want to discuss the use of the word "girl" and the pronoun "she" within the queer community, especially between gay cisgender men. Recently, I was talking with somebody about a friend of mine (who happens to be a gay man), and I recurrently used these two words of concern to refer to him. I identify as homosexual myself, and this manner of speech is rather common among queer men. However, my conversation partner stopped me and asked me to clarify my use of pronouns. He could not understand the reason I would refer to a man with feminine pronouns/nouns, and I had to explain to him the way we use this gendered language.

I became curious, however, to learn more about the repercussions of this practice as a form of endearment between gay men. In the article attached to this entry, "Call Me by My Pronouns: Why Gay Men Call Each Other 'Girl,'" journalist Rachel Anspach discusses the complex problematic of this intentional misgendering. On the one hand, "she-ing" seems to subvert the existing rigidity of heteronormative concepts of masculinity and manhood. The practice can function as a form of empowerment for many queer men who have been policed for their expressions of femininity throughout their lives. In fact, "she-ing" has been historically used among gay men as "a way of protecting themselves and building community." Nevertheless, this was primarily so among Black and Latinx gay men and trans women during the Harlem Renaissance, and problems of appropriation are one of the main concerns about the practice. Another issue people take about the use of "girl" and "she" among cisgender gay men is the ignorance they show to their male privilege. Anspach mentions in the text that some women feel like the term is used to shut them down in a way that perpetuates a discriminatory infantilism. Nonbinary people also report feeling uncomfortable about being called "girl" by gay men.

In terms of advocacy, people from both sides of the argument feel quite strongly about this linguistic practice. In this article, queer women in BuzzFeed share the many things that bother them about gay men, and among the complaints, one of them says, "I wish gay cis men would stop calling each other by female pronouns, especially when they still put down, demean, or act grossed out by women." By contrast, this article responds to the one written by Anspach, defending gay men's practice of misgendering. Amanda Kerri fervently argues that such a discussion about the use of "girl" and "she" diverts the attention from the serious threats to human rights facing the queer community. These are important pieces of data that demonstrate the complexity of this issue.

I personally think it's important to consider the repercussions of this practice, especially if it has been appropriated from marginalized racial communities and bears consequences on the integrity of women. Nonetheless, it does feel prescriptive to ask a community to stop using a word that has been historically used as a shield from homophobia (referring to same-sex partners by opposite-sex pronouns) and as a means for creating community. "She-ing" reveals the way that gender and sexuality shape the Standard American English so as to conform to binary perceptions of the world. The use of the word "girl" to refer to other queer men destabilizes the relationship between the signified and signifier in a chaotic and liberating way. That being said, recognizing where this practice originated and setting boundaries with people outside the community are important steps that queer men might have to take.

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"Something can both be subversive but also problematic at the same time."

The use of she/her pronouns by cisgender gay men, along with words such as "girl" or "honey," is a long-standing and increasingly visible practice. For many gay men, using these words with their friends is a way of embracing femininity and showing vulnerability or affection to others who share their identities. Creating a shared culture - including language - around femininity can be a way of reclaiming the bases for oppression many gay men have experienced, as well as disrupting the harmful gender binary.

But few if any linguistic practices are all one thing, all the time. In a culture where women and femininity have long been denigrated and belittled, there is a danger that cis men using these words can perpetuate some of these negative tropes. It may be time to reevaluate cis gay men's use of words like "she" and "girl" to make sure they align with ongoing efforts to respect nonbinary gender identities, and avoid making assumptions about people's pronouns. Linguists, social scientists, and critics have observed and studied cis gay men's use of "she," and their assessments point to the multiple and often conflicting dimensions of the practice.

"Something can both be subversive but also problematic at the same time," explains Lal Zimman, a linguistics professor at UC Santa Barbara who specializes in trans language practices. "It seems almost impossible to subvert the current systems that we're living in without somehow relying on those systems. So for it even to make sense for gay men to use 'she,' we have to have some kind of association with 'she,' and usually that association is femininity, whatever that might mean to us or our culture."

Historically, queer men and women switched their use of gender pronouns so that they could openly communicate with one another in times when it was not safe to openly have same-sex relationships. This practice - sometimes called "she-ing" - has a centuries-long history around the world, including England, Peru, the Philippines, and South Africa. "Men using women's pronouns, and women using men's pronouns, has got an enormous time depth in American lesbian-gay English. It's not a recent formation at all," explains William Leap, an emeritus professor of anthropology at American University and pioneering expert on queer linguistics.

Gay men calling each other "she" or "girl" was historically a way of protecting themselves as well as building community in the context of homophobic and violent mainstream culture. Leap has traced many of the roots of American queer linguistics to the Harlem Renaissance. "In Harlem, incredible forms of sexualized language emerged in the context of the linguistic florescence called Harlemese, which was the language of everyday life in Harlem," says Leap, who is currently finishing a book entitled Language Before Stonewall. "Part of that was this wonderful speaking style that had to do with sexual sameness. One of the things that you get there is incredible playing with pronouns."

Black queer people of all genders played with their use of pronouns and gendered language during the Harlem Renaissance. Leap pointed to 1920s blues music - including artists such as Ma Rainey and Ethel Waters - as a place where examples of Harlemese gender play can be found. Leap urged me to listen to Ethel Waters' "My Handyman" as an example of playing with gender; apparently the song was actually referencing a woman. The lyrics include "He shakes my ashes, greases my griddle / Churns my butter, strokes my fiddle" and "Sometimes he's up long before dawn / Busy trimming the rough edges off my lawn."

This practice is also visible in letters from soldiers during World War II, Leap explains. In the 1940s, military censors were on the lookout for evidence of homosexuality, which could provoke a military investigation. To evade this, soldiers would shift the pronouns in their letters, allowing them to, as Leap put it, "say all kinds of things about what they were up to and what kind of fun they were having."

Leap also stresses that there are usually multiple reasons a linguistic practice is used, and the history of certain words does not necessarily form a linear path to their use today. "Because this is the history doesn't mean this is the antecedent to today's practice," Leap explains. "But it kind of puts today's practice into a broader framework of what pronoun shifts could mean. Now, do today's young people know that when they say things like, 'Is she for real?' I don't know."

Using words like "she" and "girl" can be a way for cis gay men to bond and embrace femininity. "When I was growing up I didn't want to be called 'girl.' And I would ask myself, why? What's wrong with that? And that's because of the way I was socialized and affected by the patriarchy," says Black writer and activist Darnell Moore, a queer cisgender man. "Now if someone calls me 'girl,' I'm fine with that.... the context in which I've experienced this for the most part has been one of a willingness to move beyond the rigidity of markers of a certain type of manhood and masculinity."

Yet some women have experienced gay men using words like "girl" toward them in ways that don't feel all that different from the misogyny they have experienced from straight men. "It got kind of weird when I was doing things in a leadership role in LGBT spaces, and 'girl' was used toward me as a way of putting down my ideas," says Brianne Huntsman, a cis queer woman who lives in Salt Lake City. "I also saw it being negatively used when white gay men would say, like, 'Oh girl, what are you talking about,' and they would be talking to a woman of color, especially a Black woman. That was very loaded, given how African American people have been treated in the sense of people calling them 'girl' or 'boy' to deny them their adulthood and ability to make decisions for themselves."

Considering misogyny within gay men's language practices raises the question of how using words like "girl" or "honey" is connected to their use of other, more controversial words that have historically been used to demean women, such as "bitch" and "cunt." Multiple interviewees referenced RuPaul's Drag Race as a show that has popularized the use of words associated with femininity among cis gay men. RuPaul has also been widely criticized for his transphobic views on drag. He uses the acronym CUNT to describe a drag queen's ideal qualities - charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. Another term that has been popularized on the show, "hunty," is a combination of the words "honey" and "cunt."

"Gay men are a large group of people with a lot of different kinds of relationships to gender, and I think there are absolutely gay men who operate in relation to feminine language that really is a reflection of their male privilege, whether it's through using it in ways that denigrate or stereotype women, or whether it's just feeling license to use the language how they see fit," says Zimman, the linguist from UC Santa Barbara. "Of course, gay men are men. Men are prone toward misogyny, so that's not something to be left out of the picture."

Other aspects of identity, particularly race, also provide important context for this practice. Much of the history, as well as the more contemporary popularization of cis men using terms like "she/her," has Black and Latinx roots. Paris Is Burning, the 1990 documentary on Harlem's drag ball scene, as well as Drag Race, have brought the use of words like "she" and "girl" between Black and Latinx drag queens to a wider gay (and straight) audience; today this is something employed by gay men of all races. As with all language, context is important. Wealthy white gay cis men calling each other "girl" may be drastically different from Black or Latinx gay cis men who continue to be marginalized in very different ways.

As is visible in a film like Paris Is Burning, a few decades ago there were more shared spaces, language, and culture between cis gay men, trans women, and gender-nonconforming individuals. In ball culture during the 1980s, the use of a shared vocabulary could signal inclusion, affection, and safety. But in recent decades, this context has changed. "Part of the difficulty is the way that queer politics has come to be very much about sexuality and not gender," explains Zimman. "This is the mainstream gay idea of being just like straight people, except for whom one is attracted to. That kind of rejection of gender nonnormativity also gives us the situation we find today, where we have more of a split between gay men and trans women, for instance, than we might have seen in previous decades."

Alex, who identifies as a nonbinary transfemme and asks that their real name not be used, sometimes feels uncomfortable with cis men using "she/her" toward them. "With 'girl/she/her,'" they say, "if I'm socializing with cis gay men and that's what they're using to describe each other and to describe me, there is a little bit of dissonance there, because I'm not really sure if they're using that to validate my gender, or if it's being used as it's used with other cis gay men."

There are critical efforts in trans and queer spaces to dissociate pronouns from specific identities. Gay men's tradition of playing with pronouns and refusing to abide by the gender binary can be a part of this effort. It's also important to recognize that individuals may identify with different pronouns at different points in their lives, or multiple pronouns all at once. Again, this practice can help normalize that. But as we continue to work on rejecting damaging norms around gender and sexuality, it's important to question how we employ words and what associations we are invoking. It's also important to ensure through affirmative consent that people are comfortable with the pronouns and other words used to refer to them.

"I think that with the context in which cis men come to understand ourselves, as shaped by patriarchy and sexism, there's a need to be thoughtful about our uses of language," says Moore. "It's so important. And yet the queer potential, the radical potential in queerness, is our ability to fuck with language."
Rachel Anspach is an independent journalist whose work has been published in Teen Vogue, Complex, Slate, The American Prospect, and Rewire.

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Call Me by My Pronouns: Why Gay Men Call Each Other "Girl"

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And how language and its usage can be subversive and problematic at the same time.

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Since English is not my first language, I asked Professor MacKenzie if I could consider linguistic variation in other languages I speak fluently for these homework entries. Professor MacKenzie was very kind, and told me she would love to learn about the variations in my languages. Moreover, in this second entry, I will be discussing the differences in the pronunciation of the phoneme /d/ in Brazilian Portuguese, and the social values attributed to each variant.

The variable /d/ in Brazil has two variants (i.e., allophones): the voiced alveolar plosive [d] and the voiced post-alveolar affricate [ʤ]. The second variant, however, can only appear in certain phonetic environments, such as when it is followed by the vowel /e/ in non-initial positions, or the vowel /i/ in any word position.

While the first variant is often associated with European Portuguese, it is still largely observed in many parts of Brazil, including the Northeast, rural areas in the South, and certain regions of the North. That being said, the voiced alveolar plosive allophone is culturally associated to the Nordestino accent, a somewhat reductive term that refers to the cluster of Northeastern accents. Moreover, the variation is primarily geographical. In many of the most affluent centers of Brazil, including Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, Brasília, Belo Horizonte, and Porto Alegre (most of which are in the Southeastern and Southern regions), the voiced post-alveolar affricate has become the standard pronunciation of the phoneme /d/ (given the specified phonetic environments). Since I come from Porto Alegre, I use the affricate variant, but I continue to use the plosive variant in other phonetic environments. Nevertheless, I actually find the other pronunciation quite pleasant to the ear.

In the video I linked in the previous post, you can hear the two different pronunciations in between 0:29 and 0:35. The woman, who has a characteristic Nordestino accent, produces the voiced alveolar plosive [d] in the pronunciation of "pão de queijo" (Brazilian cheesebread), while the man, who has a "Paulista" accent (from São Paulo), produces the voiced post-alveolar affricate [ʤ] for the pronoun "de." In 1:33, the woman jokes that the man pronounces things "weirdly," saying [ʤi] instead of [de].

The video also reveals many of the social values that are attributed to these different pronunciations. If you speak Brazilian Portuguese, you can see that the woman is portrayed as rather ignorant about the South of Brazil (hence the joke "Sudestino" for everything that is not "Nordestino"). The "humorous" aspect of the video is that she cannot discern between the different traditions and cultures that exist in the Southeastern, Southern, and Central regions. At some point in the video, she says, "From Espírito Santo down, it's all a big Southeast. A bunch of pine-eating white people." This comment also divulges the racial tensions that exist between these distinct areas. The Northeast has the largest Black and Pardo populations in the country, while the Southeast is more diverse, and the South is predominantly white.

The Northeast also happens to be the poorest region of Brazil. Though the country prides itself for fostering a "racial democracy," it's clear that systemic racism underlies the prevalence of poverty in the Northeast. Since the Southeast is the most affluent region of the country with the urban centers of Rio and São Paulo, the [ʤ] pronunciation has been incorporated as part of the standard language ideology in Brazil, leading to discrimination against the Northeastern pronunciation of the phoneme /d/. As evident from this brief overview of the variation, this discrimination is rooted in a number of social factors, including race, social class, and ethno-nationalism. That said, both pronunciations are legitimate, and both are accepted as allophones for the same phoneme. Worth remembering as well, the characteristic [d] pronunciation is not exclusive to the Northeast, and can be observed in many other parts of the country, as previously stated.

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Check out some of these brands that feature NorCal variants in their clothing designs: https://www.hellashirtco.com/ & https://hellabayclothing.com/

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Many of their advertisements feature variants from the "gaúcho" dialect. If you'd like to hear what this dialect sounds like, check out this video advertisement Polar launched a few years ago: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzMGPO0VPiM

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The two pieces of data I picked for this week's entry are tailored to two different populations in two very different places.

The first picture depicts people wearing shirts with a "Hella Shirt Co." logo. Apparently, this is a company that was launched during the pandemic and is making quite some profit off the Northern California lingo. They are not the only ones selling this idea, nonetheless. Under the picture, you will find the link to the website of another store called "Hella Bay," which has been around since 2015. While I was not personally familiar with these brands, I began noticing stores selling shirts with the intensifier "hella" the last few times I visited my parents in San Francisco.

I moved to San Mateo, just 20 minutes south of San Francisco, at the age of 14. While attending high school there, I swiftly assimilated phrases like "hella" and "gnarly," synonymous with the distinct "NorCal" dialect. Initially, I wasn't aware of their regional significance, but as we learned in class, such linguistic nuances often arise when speakers of the same language are separated. In my case, I found myself somewhat spatially secluded from English speakers unfamiliar with these terms. It wasn't until I moved to New York at 18 that I realized I had adopted a NorCal accent. Embracing these linguistic quirks soon became a point of pride for me, prompting me to integrate them even more into my speech.

Stories like mine underscore why businesses like Hella Shirt Co. and Hella Bay incorporate the term "hella" into their brand names and products. They recognize its significance as a badge of pride and identity for many NorCal residents, who form the bulk of their target demographic. This linguistic variant helps fostering a sense of closeness and belonging within the community, making these brands all the more appealing. Additionally, it holds allure for outsiders seeking association with the region, such as tourists enamored with San Francisco. Thus, these companies capitalize on the local vernacular, harnessing the covert prestige of this non-standard intensifier.

This logic is likewise incorporated in the second advertisement I chose for this entry. Here, we return to the south of Brazil, in Rio Grande do Sul, where I grew up and spent most of my life. The beverage company Polar originated in Estrela, a small town nestled in the highlands of the state, which also happens to be my family's place of origin. Throughout my childhood, I often heard my grandfather proclaiming Polar as the finest beer around, and our family dinners frequently featured their sodas. Since its inception, the company has positioned itself as a quintessential symbol of gaúcho taste. The colors adorning its cans—green, red, and yellow—are a direct nod to the state's flag.

This one specific advertisement features one of the most famous and characteristic variants of the gaúcho dialect: the expression "bah." This is the one expression that once said out loud, everyone in the room knows you are from Rio Grande do Sul. In terms of its meaning, it is the "most polyvalent/multipurpose word in the world," as described in the video ad I linked under the image. It is used to express surprise, joy, excitement, distaste, awe, judgment, frustration... you name it!

During one of my recent visits to Brazil to see my family, I encountered the "Desperta o Baaah" advertisement, translated as "Awaken the Bah." By then, I was old enough to put my grandfather's Polar endorsements to the test, thus sparking my interest in the ad. The narrative here mirrors that of the "Hella" companies. While Polar is distributed nationwide, it's renowned as the ultimate "gaúcha" beer, deeply ingrained in Rio Grande do Sul's identity. The marketing, tailored to the state's dialect, resonates strongly with local consumers. For my family, for example, Polar became a part of our heritage, and the term "bah" serves as a poignant reminder of that familial connection.

Moreover, the advertisement taps into a sense of ethnonationalism prevalent in Rio Grande do Sul. With a predominantly white population of German and Italian descent, the state harbors a distinct separatist sentiment, with "bah" symbolizing fidelity to this notion of independence. The logo further reinforces the beverage's reflection of the local identity. On the other hand, for consumers outside Rio Grande do Sul, the ad may be perceived as humorous or exotic. There's a wealth of stereotypes about the South in Brazil, some of which enhance the brand's appeal. One notable example is the region's prominence in fashion and beauty, with iconic models like Gisele Bündchen and Alessandra Ambrosio hailing from Rio Grande do Sul. Polar thus benefits from the state's beauty legacy when illustrating its vernacular.

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For this fourth entry, I return to the Northeast of Brazil for another phonological analysis. The song that I picked for this entry is called "Pode Se Achegar," and it features the singers Tiago Iorc and Agnes Nunes. These two artists are from very distant places in the country, Tiago coming from Brasília and Agnes from Feira de Santana, in the countryside of Bahia. However, one of them seems to "adjust" their accent in the song to echo that of the other. Which one is it? How do they do that? And why do they do that?

In entry #2, I talked about how the variable /d/ in Brazil has two variants, namely the voiced alveolar plosive [d] and the voiced post-alveolar affricate [ʤ]. I explained that the first variant is culturally associated with the Nordestino accent, despite that term being encompassing of a variety of different dialects. In this entry, I shift the focus to the voiceless counterpart of this variable, i.e. the phoneme /t/. This variable also shares two variants: the voiceless alveolar plosive [t] and the voiceless post-alveolar affricate [tʃ], with the plosive allophone being likewise attributed to the Northeast. In the very beginning of the song, you can hear the stop being used in initial position with the word "tinha" (had). Had they ascribed to the "standard" language, they would have pronounced /t/ as [tʃ] whenever it is followed by the front vowels /i/ or /e/.

Nevertheless, the singers stick with the plosive variant for a reason. In spite of (or potentially because of) the negative attributes that are associated with the Nordestino accent, as thoroughly described in entry #2, people across the country exoticize the corresponding speech community. This is a common phenomenon that is observed in practices of othering that the person that is demonized and denigrated by the way they speak is also exoticized or fetishized in a way. For one, the poverty that prevails in the Northeast is often associated with a sense of laziness or incompetence. Nevertheless, the laziness and incompetence are, in turn, associated with the laid-back coastal lifestyle of the people that live in the region, and for many, that is a very positive and attractive attribute about that community.

As you can hear, the melody and rhythm of the song are very relaxing and soothing. Moreover, the Nordestino variants complement that atmosphere by leveraging the cultural associations that Brazilians have about the Nordeste as a beautiful, warm, and serene place. In this case, Tiago forces the /t/ pronunciation to align with that of Agnes and borrow the covert prestige of her baiana dialect. The central region of the country where Brasília is located ascribes to the "standard" [tʃ] pronunciation of the /t/, carrying different connotations that do not share that same covert prestige.

I want to defend that this prestige is covert by returning to the negative attributes associated with the Nordestino variants. In most day to day situations, such a pronunciation of the phoneme /t/ would be interpreted as a sign of lower social status and lower education. There is no overt prestige in the use of these variants. Nonetheless, it is the fact that the song is painting a beach-like sentimental vibe that makes this pronunciation "acceptable" and "enjoyable" for listeners throughout Brazil.

I do think that Tiago's efforts to mirror Agnes' accent are quite successful in fulfilling the goal to which he aspired, i.e. creating a sense of calm and warmth by utilizing cultural imagery of the Nordeste. I personally feel relaxed and embraced after hearing that kind and soothing accent. That being said, I do find it interesting that Tiago consciously hides his accent for the sake of aesthetics and homogeneity in the song. If you'd like to hear what he sounds like in his native dialect, you can try to look for differences in this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZBQKrBDids (pay attention to the affrication!)

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The word "iconic" is one of the many that I observed increasing in frequency over time. I chose this one, nonetheless, because it is one that I adapted into my vocabulary fairly recently, and that has been quite prominent in the queer community. This is an adjective you can hear often in queer shows like Drag Race and Queer Eye.

This trend is very interesting because the word "iconic" was first recorded in the mid 1600s in the writing of Thomas Blount, antiquary and lexicographer. Apparently, the word stems from the Latin word "iconicus," meaning "of or pertaining to a portrait." This word, in turn, was adapted from the Greek "eikonikos," i.e. "pertaining to an image" (sorry, I love etymology!). Moreover, it seems that the original meaning of the word echoed that of its earlier counterparts in Latin and Greek, something closer to "resembling an icon," as described in Merriam-Webster Dictionary. However, it seems that the term was not popular until the late 20th century. I would argue this is a consequence of semantic change, which may have been internally-induced.

The Urban Dictionary defines "iconic" today as a word similar to "classic," though "generally restricted to more recent, highly original, influential, or unique, works of art, artists, or performers." The word does not concern objects and persons that resemble icons, but that which can be the subject of an icon, the icon itself. It describes something that is deeply admired, that is worthy of timeless recognition and appreciation, and that is perceived as nearly flawless. It is not something that mirrors the excellence of an exterior reference, but that stands as excellent on its own.

I am not entirely sure of how this semantic shift happened, but I believe it might have something to do with public perception of what is an icon and who can be an icon. The new definition may explain in part the reason the term has become so prominent among queer people, for example. Perhaps, they may no longer feel the need to mirror any icons to feel iconic themselves!

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The term "thrice" stands out among the lexicon as one whose usage has declined over time. In contrast to words like "iconic," its meaning hasn't evolved; rather, its rigidity and antiquated nature seem to have nudged speakers toward adopting the more common alternative "three times" in their everyday language. (Note: some dictionaries point out that "thrice" is still commonly used in combination with certain adjectives, e.g. thrice-divorced)

According to the Oxford Dictionary, the first known use of the word "thrice" is in the Middle English period, being first recorded in 1175 in Ormulum. The Old English etymon is "thriga," which had the equivalent meaning. I was unable to find any documents that explain the reason behind the shift from thrice to three times, but I have a hypothesis.

In class, we talked briefly about the influence French on English as a result of the Norman occupation of England in the Medieval Period. I believe the loss of "thrice" may be likewise associated with English speaker's exposure to other Latin languages. German, a related language to English, also has a singular word to express the idea of three times, namely "dreimal." Latin languages, on the other hand, do not have a similar counterpart. They all represent the idea in a more analytic fashion: tre volte (Italian), três vezes (Portuguese), trois fois (French), etc. This is also true for "once" and "twice" (una volta, uma vez, une fois). That being said, the loss in frequency in the use of "thrice" dates back to the 19th century, becoming even more prominent in the 20th century. Furthermore, I do not attribute the change to the Norman occupation (since that was long over by the 19th century), but rather, to English speakers' exposure to primarily Spanish and French speakers as a result of colonization. This exposure has not only been a reality in the United States, where Spanish has become one of the most spoken languages, but also in many other places around the world where French and British colonizers disputed against each other over colony sovereignty. The question remains, however, on the reason "once" and "twice" survived, while "thrice" did not!

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I am unsure whether "Orkut" counts as a legitimate word for analysis here, but I chose it because I found it interesting how its existence preceded the launch of the corresponding social networking platform. For the sake of context, Orkut was a social media website that Google created in 2004, and that peaked in popularity in the late 2000s. Eventually, the rise of other platforms like Facebook and Twitter led to Orkut's consequential shutdown in 2014.

The website's name "Orkut," which also reached its peak frequency in the late 2000s, was actually derived from the given name of its creator, Orkut Büyükkökten. Büyükkökten was originally from Türkiye where his given name is rather common. Thus, it's likely that earlier instances of "Orkut" in English literature, as indicated by the Ngram Viewer, refer to Turkish individuals with the same name. Etymologically, some sources suggest that the name originally meant "holy city," although modern Turkish dictionaries do not support this interpretation.

Orkut lost popularity quite quickly in the United States, but it became infamous in countries like India and Brazil. Growing up in Porto Alegre, I remember everyone had an Orkut account. I sought this word out because it was a technology that became very integrated in the daily lives of people in my country. Every now and then, we still make jokes and talk about the nostalgia we feel for the Orkut times. Nevertheless, if you ask children from the 2010s generation what "Orkut" means, I am confident almost none of them will have any idea. This is a classic example of word erasure in a language (maybe in multiple ones in this case!). New technology replaced the social networking platform, leading to the implementation of new words and expressions like "twitting." I imagine in a few generations, no one will know what the question "Do you have Orkut?" meant.

PS.: apologies for the delay! I forgot we needed this third example.

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Entry #6 - Gender Differences in the Media (1)

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Entry #6 - Gender Differences in the Media (1)

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In her Forbes articles titled "Why Women Need to Cease Undermining Themselves," Dr. Margie Warell delves into a discussion about the use of "Out-of-Power" language among women. This linguistic pattern entails self-doubt, downplaying achievements, and unnecessary apologies for holding opinions. Essentially, it reflects a lack of confidence and assertiveness. While the concept may seem abstract, Warell offers at least one concrete example, i.e. double-voice discourse. Drawing from Dr. Judith Baxter's work on "The Language of Female Leadership," Warell explains how double-voice discourse manifests when individuals anticipate negative reactions and thus preemptively soften their statements. Common instances include prefacing opinions with phrases like "Correct me if I'm wrong" or "I'm not an expert, but."

Although primarily opinion-driven, the article incorporates small fragments of quantitative evidence. Notably, Dr. Warell references a Harvard Business Review study indicating that the inclusion of women in business teams correlates with a boost in the group's collective intelligence. Additionally, she cites Dr. Baxter's research, highlighting that women are four times more inclined to employ "Out-of-Power" language. However, it is worth noting that while the former evidence emphasizes the importance of changing certain linguistic discourses, it does not explain the presupposed gender gap itself.

With this in mind, it is clear that Dr. Warell does assume a gender disparity exists in the use of language between women and men. Her view is aligned with Robin Lakoff's dominance model, which argues that language both mirrors and reinforces gender power dynamics within society. Lakoff suggests that women's language often includes features that convey submissiveness, while men's language tends to be more assertive, reflecting their dominant social status. Although Warell likewise "observes" the prevalence of "Out-of-Power" language among women, she advocates for empowerment without necessarily adopting the linguistic style associated with men.

That said, I find the title and tone of the article somewhat prescriptive and patronizing. While Dr. Baxter's research may indicate that women are more prone to "talking themselves down," relying on a single piece of evidence seems insufficient to support Dr. Warell's argument. Moreover, there are a lot of men, non-binary, androgynous, trans, and other gender-queer people (many of whom were not even mentioned in this article) who also engage in use of double-voice discourse. Advocating for women to alter their speech to fit in male-dominated environments overlooks the fact that women's hardships in such spaces arise from societal standards favoring male-attributed communication styles over their own. While I agree that women, like anyone else, deserve to feel confident, I do not believe that they should have to change their speech patterns to achieve that confidence.

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Ever find yourself using the phrase "Correct me if I'm wrong, but... ?" or talking down your achievements?

It's time to stop.

Women often undermine their power by speaking in "out of power ways." How you speak - from the words you use to how you string them together- makes a huge impact on how you're perceived which, in turn, profoundly impacts the influence you build, doors you open, and the success of your career (among other things!)

Of course, most women love to talk. On some days you might even hear us roar!

Unfortunately, on other days, you may hear us second-guess ourselves, play down our achievements, or apologize for our opinions before we've even shared them.

Too often, we women use what is called 'Out-of-Power' language and engage in patterns of speech that keep us from showing up with our full quota of brilliance, power, and presence. For example, we often apologize for holding a view that others may disagree with or attribute our success to 'getting lucky' (rather than working our tail off!) To be clear, I'm not advocating for being boastful or arrogant (there's enough of that circulating already). I'm also fully mindful of the well documents double-bind women can face for speaking with the same assertiveness as men. I'd just love to see more of the immensely talented, clever and capable women I meet owning their full worth and expressing themselves with the same self-assurance I far more frequently witness in men.

What women bring to any team or group is incredibly valuable. In fact, a study reported in Harvard Business Review found that a business group's collective IQ went up significantly when women were part of the team. Yet despite the incredible value that women have, we too often second guess that value and hold back from saying the very things that most need to be heard. What we don't realize is that by using 'out-of-power' language for fear of causing offense or being less informed or articulate as others, we do a disservice to ourselves, our colleagues and the mission of our organization.

In 'The Language of Female Leadership', Dr Judith Baxter reported that women are four times more likely to use 'Out-of-Power' language, including engaging in 'double-voice discourse.' Double-voice discourse occurs when we assume that someone will respond negatively to what we have to say and so we qualify our opinion to mitigate the risk. For instance, "Correct me if I'm wrong..." or "I know I'm not the ultimate expert on this..." or "It's just my opinion, but..."

Sound familiar?

If there's something you genuinely want to say, chances are there is someone who genuinely needs to hear it. Likewise, just because your opinion may not be one that everyone agrees with doesn't mean you should apologize for it. Expressing your opinion confidently may not increase your power by four times its current level, but it will almost certainly amplify your 'personal brand' as a woman of influence and will earn you the respect that nodding nicely or apologizing profusely never will.

As you already know, we need more women seated at decision making tables. Many more. The world over. To make that a reality we must stop dialing ourselves down to fit in or diluting our opinions to avoid disapproval.

So, enough with overly qualifying your opinions to mitigate the risk of fall out, saying sorry when you've done nothing wrong, being overly humble. As my fellow author and activist Marianne Williamson once said to me " There is nothing holy in diminishing yourself !" When we talk ourselves down we only dim our light and dilute our ability to make things better.

The following list of examples will help you practice speaking more powerfully so that, with time and practice, you gradually embody the presence of a powerful woman who commands attention and influences outcomes. The first phrase uses language that is qualifying, passive and imprecise and thereby limits your power, presence, and impact on others. The second phrase uses language that is positive, specific and declarative and puts you firmly in command, making someone others want to listen to.

I think I can do that > I can do that

I should do that> I could do that if I wanted to

I'm hopeless at> I'm learning how to

I will try > I will do

I'm nervous > I'm excited

I hope I can > I'm confident I will or I know I will

It's really hard > It's a great challenge

Might you be able to do this for me? > Can you do this for me?

I'm no good at > I have yet to learn how...

There are countless ways women can, and must, exercise their personal agency to affect positive change in their workplace, communities and beyond. By changing how you speak, something that is entirely within your power, you set a off a ripple effect that can lead to a vast horizon of new possibilities and opportunities.

Unsure where to start?

How about this. As you move ahead in your day, pay extra attention to what you are saying, how you are saying it, and any words or phrases you commonly use that could be undermining you. Consider asking a colleague or friend to listen more attentively and to let you know when you are using passive, imprecise or disempowering phrases that diminish how you show up. Replace them with empowering ones and then notice how, by changing what you say, your words shift the way others respond to you. More so, notice how that shifts how you feel in yourself.

Your words shape your reality; your conversations build your currency of influence.

So own your value, stand tall in your worth, speak your opinion and dare to bring your full quota of brilliance to every conversation.

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Why Women Need To Stop Talking Themselves Down

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Ever find yourself using the phrase 'Correct me if I'm wrong, but...'? It's time to stop. How you speak - from the words you use, to how you string them together - makes an impact on how you're perceived and valued. Shifting your language can change everything...

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Entry #6 - Gender Differences in the Media (2)

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Entry #6 - Gender Differences in the Media (2)

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Sam Polk's New York Times article, "How Wall Street Bro Talk Keeps Women Down," does not discuss any particular linguistic features in men's language use, but rather scrutinizes this concept what we commonly refer to as "bro talk." This concept refers to conversations that are held between men in the absence of women. These discussions, often perceived as serious or intimate, serve the purpose of fostering affinity and solidarity among male peers, cultivating a sense of brotherhood. However, Polk discerns a troubling pattern wherein these conversations frequently revolve around the objectification and subjugation of women. This inherently perpetuates gender inequality by reinforcing harmful stereotypes and marginalizing female voices, which is specially detrimental for the inclusion of women in male-dominated spaces like Wall Street.

This opinion-driven article lacks quantitative evidence but draws on a wealth of anecdotal accounts to illustrate its concerns. Polk vividly recounts numerous instances of misogynistic remarks he encountered throughout his career, highlighting their use in fostering camaraderie among men. Examples include phrases like "I had to get a look at those tits" and "I'd like to bend her over the table, give her some meat." He candidly admits to refraining from challenging these sexist remarks, expressing feelings of shame and guilt for his complicity. Polk suggests that protesting such behavior risked disrupting the bonding founded on the collective objectification of women, potentially jeopardizing one's standing among peers in positions of power and, consequently, one's career trajectory.

I found this article particularly interesting because it both challenges and alligns, to some extent, with Deborah Tannen's difference model. According to Tannen, men and women are socialized to use language in different ways. While women tend to engage in "rapport-talk," a communication style meant to promote social affiliation and emotional connection, men lean towards "report-talk," a style focused on exchanging information with little emotional emphasis. On the one hand, this theory holds true in that the subject of exchange between men in these moments of intimacy are not emotionally charged. On the contrary: the objectification of women is a dehumanizing practice that reflects a deep lack of empathy and compassion. On the other hand, however, this dehumanizing practice serves the purpose of fostering community between men. In a way, they report information they find relevant to the social situation, though with the intent of creating rapport.

Similarly, Lakoff's model offers valuable insight into this text. Polk's argument underscores the unequal access to power between men and women, shedding light on how this disparity influences their language use. However, the article places less emphasis on delineating specific linguistic features between genders and instead focuses on how language serves as a tool for reinforcing bonds among men.

I find Polk's arguments compelling despite the absence of quantitative data. Unlike Dr. Warell, Polk avoids prescribing a particular manner of speech and does not convey a patronizing tone. His focus lies not on dictating how men should speak, but rather on analyzing the content and function of their exchanges, particularly in terms of fostering camaraderie. He addresses a crucial aspect of discrimination that persists in society today, highlighting the importance of addressing it to enhance diversity and promote women's access to opportunities. Additionally, I commend his willingness to acknowledge his past mistakes and advocate for a group he previously contributed to oppressing.

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In this excerpt of a recent conversation between my friend Massimo and I, the three emojis "💪", "💅", and "🫶" serve to reinforce our social connection and maintain a positive tone despite a change of plans, thus illustrating the phatic function of language. For context, I initially invited Massimo to join me for swimming after class, but due to my partner's visit, I had to postpone our plan to the following week, as conveyed in the Portuguese sentence "semana q vem eu vou ctg, prometo" (translated to English as "next week I will come with you, I promise"). Moreover, the term "obrithanks" combines the Portuguese word "obrigado" with its English equivalent "thanks".

Massimo's use of the flexed biceps emoji "💪" could be interpreted as a symbol of his encouragement and agreement with my decision to reschedule our plans. It conveys support for my proposal to meet the following week instead. Conversely, the painted nails emoji "💅", adds a touch of playfulness to the response, suggesting that while he supports my decision, he will patiently await our rescheduled meeting. Together, these emojis successfully contribute to maintaining a friendly tone in our exchange, affirming Massimo's receptiveness to the change of plans and enhancing our social bond through subtle gestures of understanding and politeness.

Finally, I use the heart hands emoji "🫶" in the end to express my gratitude for his receptiveness. The repetition emphasizes the sincerity of my appreciation and underscores the depth of our friendship. By including these emojis, I mirror Massimo's phatic language, expressing thanks and ensuring a harmonious and positive interaction.

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In this invitation my previous boss sent me, emojis are being used to convey the referential function of language by providing visual cues and enhancing the understanding of the information being presented. Contextually, my previous boss, Kim, had a strong affinity for Brazilian forró, frequently inviting me to join dance workshops and events celebrating my country's traditional dances. The message is in French because we worked together in an NGO in Paris. I chose this excerpt as an example of the referential function because I recall the emojis proving particularly invaluable in communicating information during this period when I was still honing my French language skills.

The emojis in this text adeptly convey factual information, evident upon closer examination. An intriguing aspect of dissecting this message is the realization that fluency in French is not necessary to grasp the intended plans. For instance, the "🥗🧃" emojis signify food and drinks, hinting at a planned mealtime or, in this case, picnic during the event. Similarly the "💃✨" emojis suggest dancing, with the subsequent description confirming a scheduled contemporary dance improvisation workshop. Likewise, "🕺💥" implies energetic or dynamic dancing, aligning with the announced initiation to forró course. Finally, the "🎶" emoji denotes music, signaling a post-workshop party.

The transportation emojis "Ⓜ️🚊🚲" aid in translating the French terms for subway, tram, and bike. They point to the exact routes that people can take to arrive at the event. Lastly, the "🚩" functions as a location marker, indicating that specific event location details will follow.

Overall, this successful utilization of emojis for the referential function enables French learners and non-speakers to decode the information effectively, showcasing their versatility in enhancing communication clarity.

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In this short excerpt, the dancing woman emojis "💃" are being used to impart the expressive function of language by expressing the sender's intense joy and excitement. In this case, the sender is my mother. The message translates as follows: "Sonnnn, I'm bursting with joy to know that in two weeks you'll be home with [your partner] and your friends". She sent me this text spontaneously a few days before I returned home for spring break with the people thereby mentioned. My mom always used this dancing emoji to communicate excitement and enthusiasm. Every since she was little, she always loved to dance, and thus, she associates dancing with joy. However, this is not necessarily clear when people are unaware of this background.

Moreover, I chose this excerpt because it reflects not only the way emojis can be used to express one's feelings and thoughts, but also as a way to communicate their personal experiences and identity. Further, the repetition of the dancing woman emoji emphasizes the degree of her emotional state, serving as an exuberant visual representation of her happiness. By using multiple dancing emojis, my mom effectively conveys her overwhelming anticipation at the prospect of me being home with my partner and friends in a very unique and characteristic manner.