Community and alienation

Raye Chell Mahela

Throughout my life, growing up and being part of online communities, I was always in one way or another put down and felt alienated, no matter the type of group. And so many people online hold the ability to say anything to anyone to be “sacred”. But that’s not how I run my communities.

I built an educational game development-oriented ecosystem for the past decade or so, and the #1 rule was to treat others with respect. In a community based around learning, one of the biggest enemies is feeling alienated.

As I began learning conlangs, I experienced the same alienation, over and over again. Part of the reason I started “La Aliuloj”, which is now Áya Dan, is because of this alienation. I want to create an environment, a blog, an educational and fun resource that does not alienate people. Because there are plenty of places to go to if you want to feel like shit.

For me, I’d much rather spend my energy supporting people, than trying to debate/argue with others who aren’t going to have their minds changed. When I create videos about asexuality, it is in the hopes of letting others know “See? You’re not alone”, moreso than trying to argue with the vitriol that one sees when they try to post about it.

And that extends to everybody. I don’t want to see anybody being shat on. And this includes religion. There are many people in this world, and many people are good, and many people are also religious.

I’m a firm believer that, even if religion didn’t exist, individuals would still find ways to be assholes to each other.

So let’s not be assholes to each other. Let’s treat each other with a mutual respect, and support each other, and cheer each other on, and create a supportive community where we can all come together and enjoy language.

Fojfoje necesas eliri la realon

Lastajare mi konsideris forlasi Esperanton (ne temus pri “kabeo,” ĉar mi neniam sufiĉe aktivis), kaj ĉiajn aliajn planlingvojn, pro tio, ke mi devas zorgi pri multe pli seriozaj aferoj. Nu, kompreneble, tio neniam okazis. Kvankam internacia helplingvo estas plej optimisme revo iom post iom realiĝanta, plej pesimisme fantazio nekredebla, tio tamen ne estas, per si mem, malbona. La realo ofte iĝas, ĉe marĝenuloj, tro kruela por ĉiam pensadi pri ĝi. Tiam oni bezonas dumtempan eliron, sciante ke oni ne restos tie tro longe kaj reiros al la realo laŭ eble plej frue. Verŝajne tial homoj havas la kapablon imagi nekredeblaĵojn.

Mi komprenas, ke por multaj homoj, Esperanto estas afero tre serioza kaj praktika. Mi ĝojas, ke ili trovas tian utilon en la lingvo. Tio evidente atestas al la diversaj uzoj de ĉi tiu lingvo. Tamen. por mi, Esperanto ne praktike helpas min, nur fantazie. Kaj tio estas bonega, ĉar mi ne povas ĉiam toleradi ĉion, kio okazas ĉirkaŭ mi. Ĉi-jare en Usono, tri aferoj iel iĝis la plej gravaj aferoj por normaluloj: mia rajto ekzisti, la rajto ekzisti de islamanoj, kaj la rajto ekzisti de malriĉaj enmigrantoj. Tute ne interesas min defendi mian ekziston. Prefere mi lernus Volapukon.

Mi komprenas, ke la rezultoj de ĉi tiu disputo materie tuŝegos min. Mi devas defendi min, samkiel ĉiu devas defendi sin. Sed sen fantazio, mi verŝajne ne “materie” ekzistus sufiĉe longe por plibonigi miajn cirkonstancojn.

“Tie ĉi malbone” (“Damned If You Don’t”)

Originally published in Penseo, issue 287, under the pen name Rebeka SenfamiliaThe poem is in a fixed form called Dekses-Silabo (16-syllable), which was adapted from the Ci poetry tradition by Chinese Esperanto speakers. A loose English rendering titled Damned If You Don’t, which was published recently in Ohio Fusion, follows below the Esperanto poem.

Tie ĉi malbone

—laŭ ĉinesko Dekses-Silabo

rigardanta kun dezir’
ne scias,
ke mi estas kvir’.

kaŝo gardas min (defi’
de la transfobi’.

de la beno de vual’:
post lerno
pri sana detal’,

tia ĉi individu’
afablados plu,

ĉu mi, pro bola baldaŭ’
al la malantaŭ’?

Damned If You Don’t

Licking his lips
he stares at the box
the contents are hidden

it’s hard to pull off but it keeps you safe
as long as he doesn’t unwrap you


Raye Chell Mahela

This article was sent to me by Idist Brian Drake who reached out to me about their work in the language, and also pointed out this article to me, from La blua plumo:


It not only has a non-gender-specific way of talking about people […], but we’re even working on a trans-appropriate affix and pronoun. I think that’s pretty great.

I’m not a very quick Ido reader, but if somebody would like to provide an English-language summary for me, I will add it to this blog post for more people to learn about! :)


Gender in Volapük

Yesterday I was surprised to see that there was a Volapük tag, so I thought I would take the opportunity today to write about the language.

Volapük was constructed by Johann Martin Schleyer, a German Roman Catholic priest, in the late 1800s, after he claimed to have had a vision from God. It was the original international auxiliary language movement; the third international Volapük convention took place entirely in Volapük, which was the first time (that I’m aware of) when a constructed language was brought out of theory and into practice. The second was probably Esperanto.

Volapük eventually died as a result of infighting between the Academy and Schleyer (the Cifal or Chief) over control of the language. This same story has often been repeated in the communities of various constructed languages, such as Loglan for example. The Academy went on to make Idiom Neutral, which was very heavily influenced by Volapük, but the movement never recovered. Today there are a handful of people who still speak it, and a significantly larger number of people who study it. Personally, I am not fluent in Volapük, but I do study it, and if I ever had the time, I think it would be fun to become fluent.

Volapük, as spoken today, has three third-person pronouns: on, om, and of. On is an all-purpose pronoun, usable for both people and things. A group of men would be caled oms as a pronoun, a group of women would be called ofs, and a mixed group would be called ons. It is also possible to simply refer to everyone as on and ons. This system is the result of the grammatical reform of Arie de Jong, which happened decades after the original Volapük movement had mostly died out. Under the old system, men and things would go by om in the singular, oms in the plural. Women would go by of in the singular, ofs in the plural.

Volapük is a pro-drop language, meaning you ordinarily don’t use pronouns in the nominative except for emphasis. But the personal suffixes of verbs are exactly the same as the pronouns:

binom: He is
binof: She is
binon: It is; They (sing) are
binons: They are
binoms: They (masc) are
binofs: They (fem) are

Informally and regardless of whatever the official policy might be, genderqueer people could certainly add pronouns to Volapük the same way they do in Esperanto with e.g. “ri”. The following letters are currently used for Volapük pronouns: b, d, f, k, l, m, n, r, s, y. This leaves the following letters left over: g, p, t, v. There are other letters in the Volapük alphabet (c, h, j, x, z), but it would be hard to pluralize them in pronouns, since plurals are formed with s. The pronoun os is impersonal, and has no plural form. Yet it might still be feasible if you wanted your personal pronoun to be (for example) “oz”, and for the plural of it to simply be “ons.”

Of course, you would be likely to find the same difficulties using non-standard pronouns in Volapük that you did anywhere else.

There are also two Volapük gender prefixes, hi- and ji-, which make a noun masculine or feminine, respectively. So the Volapük word for “human” is men (derived from German Mensch), and if you wanted to say “man” you could either say himen, or you could synonymously say man. For “woman” you could say jimen or, synonymously, vom. There is no prefix that makes something non-binary, but as with pronouns, I’m sure someone could find a way if they wanted to :)

I find it interesting that Volapük uses “on” to represent both people and things. There are Esperanto speakers who claim that this function is fulfilled by ĝi in Esperanto, but unlike in Volapük, this has never been common or established usage except in reference to animals and babies.

I personally love Volapük; it’s a fun language with its own character, and it gets a very bad name in the Esperanto community. It’s easier to understand than it seems, once you get used to its alphabet and weird ways of assimilating words. Most of the words are derived from natural sources, and are more phonologically faithful than orthographically. This means that spoken aloud, some of them even sound more like their original root words than Esperanto words do.

Also, because Volapük has religious roots, I find the idea of talking about irreligious (or even sacrilegious) things in the language amusing :)

You can learn more about Volapük at volapü

An Experiment in Conlang Gender Diversity

I set out in November to write a constructed language that celebrated gender diversity. Many conlangs skirt the issue of gender through the use of a single third-person pronoun, as is also seen in many natural languages. I wanted to do something a bit different.

Part of my inspiration for this was, in fact, Suzette Haden Elgin, who constructed Láadan out of a belief that women were “not superior to men (Matriarchy) or interchangeable with and equal to men (Androgyny) but rather entirely different from men.” I felt similarly about gender in conlangs: it is very easy to make everyone the same, but it misses the point of gender diversity.

Just as Elgin created a series of books about the construction of Láadan, I ended up creating a culture of people who spoke the language, a world they lived in, and various other cultures who lived alongside them. It’s still in progress, and the language is still “evolving” (being developed by me) in many ways. Some of the things that were true about the language at the beginning of December have been changed since then.

The contest Lexember was very helpful to me in developing it, although the gender system has been there from the very beginning and has barely changed aside from a few tweaks. You can read about the gender system on my conlanging Tumblr.

It has occurred to me, though, that the gender system of this fictional culture is still centered around the concept that binary gender is the norm (I wish I knew the word for this). You are either male, female, or “miscellaneous.” So as I keep developing this culture and its world, I will have to think of ways to break out of this in future cultures, worlds, langs, etc. This experiment will, hopefully, inspire better ones, either in me or in someone else.

Láadan LGBTQIA+ terms

Raye Chell Mahela

Oddly, in the dictionary, I can only find two LGBTQIA+ terms: withidetho (male-identified) and lushimá (lesbian).

The breakdown seems like…


  • With – person
  • -id – male
  • -tho – possession, other


  • Ludi – female
  • shim – sexual act
  • -á – doer

For lushimá, I’m a little confused on why “di” was left off, unless “di” here is the goal marker, but “lu” is not defined in the dictionary. “lul” is, which means vagina, so that might also be part of it.

It’s also kind of weird – is it only lesbian because everything is assumed female in Láadan? (Assuming we’re talking about having sex with a woman who has a vagina, is the doer assumed also female? Is this why it means lesbian?)

Penis is “bom”, so if we have a “bomeshimá”, that’s somebody who has sex with people with penises.

Agggh, my brain. Perhaps these will make sense more once I’m better learned at Láadan.


Now, if we were ignoring peoples’ parts and wanted to just define Asexual, it wouldn’t be rashimá – not-sex-doer… Asexual isn’t necessarily the same as celibate. If I were defining Asexual from scratch in a language, I’d like to use words to the extent of: “[Person who] does not experience sexual attraction”.

Absense of sexual desire is ramaha, so maybe ramahahá (such a mouthful) could be close to an Asexual person.


Oh well. Here are some words I’ve found that may be useful for creating words for sexualities and gender identities, but I only venture to make up words to describe myself. :)

Potentially relevant words

These may be required for word-building new terms.

  • Female = Ludi
  • Male = -id
  • Man = Withid
  • Without = Raden
  • Many = Menedebe
  • Alike = Zhe
  • Unalike = Razhe (?)
  • Sexual Desire = Maha
  • Absense of sexual desire = Ramaha
  • Identity = Zheledal [zhe=like + le=me + dal=thing]
  • To change = Sheb

Gender Diversity is a Very Old Concept

Gender diversity is not a recent fashion trend or a problem with late-stage capitalism. It has always existed, but throughout the centuries it has been a taboo, to the point where generations upon generations of gender-diverse people have been erased from the history books.

To give one example, take a look at these Classical Jewish Terms for Gender Diversity, compiled by the website This demonstrates that in the Mishna and Talmud, very early works of Jewish Biblical criticism and commentary written down after the expulsion of the Jews from former Judea/Palestine, there was already a concept of “Saris Adam”, a person who is identified male at birth but develops female characteristics as a result of human intervention. Such a person would probably, in modern English, be called a trans woman.

There are many other examples, like the Hijra in India, or the effeminate dancers of Roman society (cinaedi, which later became a pejorative term). One only needs to actually seriously occupy oneself with history to stumble into things like this. If “saris adam” was known to classical Jewish scholars, then a lack of gender diversity cannot simply be ascribed to ignorance. Rather, in the past, gender-diverse people have been deliberately and artificially excluded from various cultural institutions because it was convenient for the functioning of society. But as is so often stated, society and culture are man-made, socially constructed. And gender diversity is natural, a fact that any trans person who has come to terms with themselves could tell you, despite the fact that many privileged non-trans people claim otherwise.

So any attempt at correcting these erasures has nothing to do with fashion, late-stage capitalism, political correctness, censorship, or an artificial attempt to control nature. It has to do with allowing what has previously been censored to become fully expressed.

The Good Fairy: An Esperanto Fairy Tale of Respectability Politics

In the Summer of 2015 I had the opportunity to read “La bona feino” (The Good Fairy), a fairy tale written in Esperanto by a white, heterosexual European male librarian named Louis Beaucaire. Although Beaucaire wrote a number of these Fairy Tales of the Green Magpie, he was best known for Kruko kaj Baniko el Bervalo (Kruko and Baniko from Bervalo), a set of “indecent anecdotes” about a couple of womanizing, brothel-frequenting, married straight men living in a fictional land called Bervalo.

But let’s forget Kruko and Baniko and move onto “The Good Fairy.” Paraphrased, it goes like this: a fairy learns about Esperanto and wants to learn it due to its pretensions of being able to bring about world peace. When she begins to actually study the matter, she finds out that inside the language’s foundational text, the Fundamento de Esperanto, there is a story about an evil fairy, and she does not like it. She thinks it is insulting to fairies. So she writes to L. L. Zamenhof, who assures her that he had no intention of offending fairies, and would be happy to remove it, only he cannot because it is already part of the language’s foundational text. Reassured, the Good Fairy goes on to become a completely self-sacrificing, party-line-toeing Esperantist, including at one point using her magic to oppose the Ido movement. She never again questions the language, Zamenhof or the Fundamento.

This story is a frequently anthologized part of Esperanto literature, and it demonstrates the inherent respectability politics of the language. If you want to be a “good fairy,” you must not only accept being marginalized within the foundational text of Esperanto, but you must oppose the “bad fairies” who do not accept it. If the Ido movement, for example, wants equality for fairies at the expense of the Esperanto movement’s doctrine (the Fundamento), they are evil people whom good fairies must oppose at all costs. And if fairies don’t oppose Ido and support Esperanto, they are bad fairies.

That’s what the white, cisgender Western Esperantist Louis Beaucaire wanted to convey. That’s what the Nobel-prize-nominated Esperanto poet William Auld loved enough to include in the anthology Nova Esperanta Krestomatio during the 1980s, and what the Universal Esperanto Association continues to publish. You be the judge.