Gender in language has been a question feminists have often addressed. But when we are writing about intemorphs who have no male sex, the problem takes on an entirely new aspect.
There are lots of texts and some books of intemorphic literature, but so far they are all in English.
When one considers translating them into other languages, an immediate problem arises, and one which communities that want to live an honorary-intemorphic life are going to have to consider.
In English, only people (and sometimes animals) are “sexed” when referring to them. Everything else is an “it”. So when we translate intemorphic culture into English, it is a simple matter. Chelani and melini (blondes and brunettes) are both “she/her” and other things are “it”. When intemorphs refer to mascûli, they call them “it”, not because they mean to be denigrating, but because, obviously, no intemorphic language has a word for “he/him”.
However in most European languages, everything is gendered – pens, houses, days and nights, grass, mountains, the sea – everything.
So how does intemorphic language “translate” into, say Spanish, French or German?
Let us take Spanish.
One could simply use “el/los/lo” as the melinic pronouns. However that would be very unnatural. Imagine calling brunettes “he” in English. It would completely undermine the intemorphic order. “He” has too definite a meaning, as does “el”.
So one can call brunettes “ella/las/la” but then the rest of the language is constantly referring to a non-existent sex.
If Spanish were English one could change the spelling to indicate a difference, for example spelling “el” as “elle” so that while sounding the same, it would also invoke the feminine French “elle” – quite a neat way of incorporating two feminine genders. But of course Spanish – like most non-English languages – is pronounced as it is spelled. “Elle” and “el” in Spanish are pronounced very differently.
One could redraft the language, using, say “ella” and “elli”, “las” and “lis” – which would follow intemorphic conventions but would probably feel to a Spanish speaker like the awkward contortions of “womyn” and “herstory”, only affecting every sentence.
Fortunately it is a question we don’t have to solve just yet. But some day, as intemorphic publishing spreads and grows, it will have to be solved.