Nebulous Terminology, Tribalism, and the Urge to Understand

The thing is, plural is a nebulous term. We will all act like system and plural mean one thing, when it doesn’t mean one thing at all. It has one definition, but it encompasses an infinite variety of people. Just about the only thing it doesn’t cover is the people who have one person using one body all of the time, and that isn’t even getting into the weeds of ‘plural singlethood’, which we have…thoughts about. But put a pin in it.

In our minds, plural is far more inclusive than system. Our thinking has changed; we used to believe system was the inclusive term, but have found that general speaking, we relate less and less to the term system the larger our collective becomes and the more independent our lives become on the inside. While we are adamant that system of parts is not what system means, exclusively, because we know systems who don’t identify as parts, who identify as people. Which is perfectly fine; we believe everyone should use the terms they want to use. Our growing discontent with the description of system is not to say we don’t often use it to communicate the general idea, and clarify from there. But it feels…too clinical. Like a well-oiled machine, if not organs of a body. And that just doesn’t feel like us anymore.

So what then? What about plural? Why does that feel like a word we can identify with? Well, the idea of plurality is simple: someone (that is traditionally understood to be someone, ie, a body) that is more than one in some way. That covers both a more well-understood someone (ie, a person) feeling as though there is more than one of them, and a body which has more than one pilot, in whatever configuration that takes; it covers those who feel possession more describes them than something clinical. The only requirement is that the body is used by more than one person.

So what about plural singlets? We, frankly, do not understand the experience, and I don’t think we can. Nevertheless, we don’t feel as though we have the right, and in fact we could never have the right, to revoke someone’s access to the word plural. It is a nebulous umbrella term, and fighting the urge to more strictly define it is something we have to watch ourselves for. There is an exclusionary urge I don’t know that we can really outrun. The urge to close ranks. Why?

Words mean things. This is true. We will not tell someone that plural does not mean more than one in some way. That is such an incredibly broad umbrella, though, and the feeling of not understanding, of not relating to another using the same label you do, of someone mistaking you for something you’re not–these are all things that make us want to close ranks. Someone assuming that we are parts of one another, that this body and this life is the most important thing to us, that we must feel as though we belong to this body, this country, this world. All things that have been assumed of us.

It is not anyone’s fault, but for the minor sin of making assumptions. Certain assholes notwithstanding.

But that’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Assumption is partly the source of the most bitter syscourse I can think of. The assumption that someone is the same as you, the anger that they are not, the denial of their experience because the differences expressed while under the same umbrella and sharing certain commonalities is scary. We use words to define ourselves, to put ourselves into categories. Those categories being ambiguous makes us feel unmoored, so we search for something more solid to define us–either by rejecting the label entirely (my mind wanders to the DID systems that vehemently reject the idea of being in community with plurals at all, often only out of spite from The Discourse, or–as we have discussed–making assumptions of what it means to be plural).

But plural is an opt-in identity, and there is nothing wrong with not wanting to be in community with the larger plural community. The way these people do it is usually venomous and hateful, and that isn’t great, but no one is obligated to take on that label, no matter how much they match the definition. It is a lot less like the word queer, in my opinion, than it is the word trans. Queer is almost more nebulous than plural, and is often used to make a political statement. Being trans is, put simply, the idea of not identifying with the gender you were assigned at birth. There are nonbinary people who choose not to identify as trans, despite the fact that they have every right to claim the label. That’s fine, even if those that do don’t understand why.

The fact of the matter is, we do not know what is in other people’s hearts or minds. We can never bridge that gap, and can only take their words, which are insufficient. The challenge is in accepting that, treating them according to how they want to be treated no matter what you think. Try to overcome that little tyrant in your head that believes in strict definitions and people who are obligated to sit in boxes. Words mean things, but the beauty of it is that you have every right to take shelter under those words or refuse them altogether.