Pronouns

Walking towards the community building, I find myself growing nervous. I see the signs for the support groups, one for each species. As I get closer I see them, the humans. They are walking through the blue doors—as the sign directed—to their support group, SAB (standing for Safely Adjusting to Blasoids). Personally, I’m directed through the red doors to my support group, SAH (standing for Safely Adjusting to Humans). You see, I myself am not human, but what they call an ‘alien’ of the race Blasoid. My colony came to Earth about five years ago, and since then we have co-existed quite peacefully with the residents of this planet. They insist that we are what they refer to as ‘aliens.’ I would like to point out that if an ‘alien’ is a creature from outer space, then aren’t humans (the ruling species of Earth) ‘aliens’ to us? I asked this question to a human once when our support groups had a conjoined meeting…I was escorted out and wouldn’t care to discuss the reactions that led up to this, let’s just say that we haven’t had another conjoined meeting since. 

It all goes alright though, as I pass by the humans and into the meeting space. One could say that I have somewhat of an irrational fear of the humans. It’s why I’m in this support group; it was recommended to me by a friend of mine. Before I have any more time to think today, a Blasoid whose name I know to be Arlyic (R-lie-ick) begins to start the meeting. 

“Today we will be speaking about recent interactions we’ve had with the humans.” As everyone starts to take their seats—odd metal chairs that fold up, an interesting contraption invented and commonly used here on Earth—Arlyic continues, “Posyrah (Poe-sigh-rah), if you would start us off!”

Posyrah twists and squirms, but begins to speak. “I had to go to a…a…umm, a grocery store! Yes, a grocery store. The other day, I went to a grocery store to buy some quail eggs.”

We all start to lean forward, our tentacle-ish type arms moving to relax at our sides. The mention of quail eggs got us excited. You see, when we first came to Earth and tried the eggs from a quail, we all quickly came to learn that it was a food most enjoyed by our entire species. The mere thought makes stomachs hop in delight. 

“As I was at the quail egg section of the grocery store, a woman walked up to me. The woman kept looking at me, concerned for the smaller woman next to her legs. The smaller woman reached towards me and…and, well…she touched my arm.” Posyrah whispers the last words, retreating into a shell we call the Clondorysis (Clawn-door-eye-sis). Some others in the circle follow suit with similar reactions.

“It’s alright, Posyrah…Posyrah, come on back out. All of you, why don’t you rejoin the circle.” Arlyic speaks softly, almost humming the words into existence. Posyrah slowly emerges;  once again others follow suit. “How’d the experience make you feel? Let’s all work through it together.”

“Ok…ok. It made me feel…violated. I was uncomfortable. The small woman didn’t ask to touch me. The big woman yelled at me for allowing it. The woman called me a her. They never seem to understand the lack of pronouns in our species. In our race. The referral made the situation so much worse.” 

We all nod our heads in agreement, the pronoun thing is a huge issue.