What do Mrs Dalloway, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day have in common? Yes, they were British texts written roughly a century ago, but that wasn’t what I was thinking of … Great. You’ve guessed it—my title gave it away, no doubt—they’re famous titles with titles in the titles: Mrs, Dr, Mr, Miss.
If they were writing today, however, I wonder whether Woolf, Stevenson or Watson would have used those titles. Raising questions about gender, tradition and authority, the use of honorifics seems to be declining, but do they still have a place in our language, or do they simply need modernising?
I taught in high schools for ten years and was used to being called “Mr Bush-Harris” or “Mr Bush” or “Sir” (and Bush-nut, at times, but I’ll leave it at that). I get it. These titles reinforce the power dynamic, cast the teacher as authority figure, maintain professional distancing, but are they necessary? Some schools allow students to call teachers by their first names. Progressive advocates of this policy believe “it fosters a more personal relationship [allowing students to] feel more confident to question adults” (Heuzenroeder). “[R]espect” according to one principal, “depends on much more than just a name” (Braverman). I teach at a college, now, where students are on a first-name basis with us. They are practically adult. Misbehaviour is a rarity. This suggests classes don’t necessarily descend into chaos. Of course, this may work well for primary schools and colleges, but as Brownlie notes, high schools tend to “stick with tradition [to maintain boundaries] especially with teenagers”.
What about “Dr”? The honorific denotes a medical professional or a holder of the highest academic qualification, connoting credibility. In a medical context, it “instils an innate sense of confidence in a healthcare professional” (Bismire et al.). However, an increase in non-physician “doctors” in clinical settings, such as PhD-holding nurses (AACN)—What! Nurses who are doctors?—has led to pushback and even a legal ruling upholding restrictions on who gets to be called “doctor” (Segal). Understandably, “[t]he primary purpose of any title used in a clinical setting should be to help patients clarify which member of the healthcare team they are interacting with, not to elevate the holder’s status” (Gallagher). However, professional nursing associations have quite rightly objected that “[n]o one discipline has ownership over the title doctor” (Barry). And who wouldn’t, after years of rigorous study and/or training, want “Dr” next to their name? The compromise lies in identification. Olsen et al. concluded that physicians “reported decreased role misidentification after use of a role identification badge. Even the Australian Medical Association, concerned that pharmacists have been allowed to use the title, concedes that they “will need to make it clear that they are a Doctor of Pharmacy”. Dr Seuss, who Steensma points out was not a doctor, had better take note.
But it’s one thing to have it on your door or on a badge and another for patients to say it. My GP, a few years back, insisted I call him by his first name (although, admittedly, I struggled to break the habit). However, wait for an invitation as a survey of 333 physicians found that nearly three-quarters reported being called by their first name “with annoyance reported in 61%” (Harvey et al.)—Yikes!
So, while I won’t be seeking treatment for my insomnia from my work colleague who holds a doctorate in creative writing (although he may prescribe Haynes car manuals as bedtime reading), I’ll sleep easy about calling him by his first name.
An advantage that “Dr” has over its Mr and Mrs counterparts is that it’s gender neutral. “Using gender-neutral [job titles] contributes to a more inclusive and equal society,” Petra tells us, adding that it “eliminates gender stereotypes and highlights the professional competence and skills of individuals beyond their gender”. Granted, it’s preferable (although to make it watertight, presumably, these professionals would have to omit first names from emails and badges, wear figure-obscuring veils and communicate through voice distorters).
The question remains, then: Is it time to gender neutralise (sounds sinister) our social titles? Two underlying issues exist.
The first concerns marital status. According to Minted, “Mrs. should be used to address women who are, or have been, married,” whereas “Miss should only be used to address young, unmarried women.” This is advice for writing wedding invitations. Now, nothing is intrinsically wrong with marital status-revealing titles. Some love becoming a Mrs (Savage). Others struggle, however, with the awkwardness of post-divorce titling (Sutcliffe). The issue is one of inequality. A recent petition pointed out that “age is often used to define male titles, but marriage for female titles”, explaining that males “under 18 are often given the title ‘Master’, then ‘Mr’ when over 18” (UK Government and Parliament). Having grown up in the UK, “often” is a stretch. I remember my grandma addressing me as “Master” once on a postcard circa 1986. Should we bring it back from the brink of extinction and redefine it as an unmarried male to help level the playing field? I can imagine some bachelors wincing at the reminder and others flaunting their availability. Surely, this would be a backwards step.
The second issue with gendered titles concerns people identifying as non-binary. For many, understandably, Mr., Mrs. and Miss. are problematic options. Mx., pronounced mix, is a gender-neutral title popular with “genderqueer and nonbinary folx” (Wax). A recent gender census, however, found that of 43,096 non-binary-identifying participants, 43% preferred to use no title (trending up) compared to 15% Mx., 11% Mr. and 6% Ms. (all trending down). Personal choice, of course, is important.
That’s all well and good in social settings, but what about in high schools where titles still seem to serve a purpose? We could follow Japan’s example, where students simply say sensei (teacher), which is “accurate, respectful and inclusive” (Clatworthy). (This would also circumvent married surname changes and those difficult to pronounce.) I suspect that a dramatic linguistic shift like this would be unlikely to take hold in English-speaking classrooms, not least because of the challenge of distinguishing between teachers. If the goal of this is to maximise happiness—avoiding marital-status awkwardness and negative gender associations while allowing for choice—then a gradual, more familiar, shift is probably the best bet. If it gained momentum, I’d happily be a Mx. or perhaps Mist., a compromise between Mr and Miss with the gender-neutral connotation of mystery.
It’s either that or go down the doctor path and title according to qualification:
Bachelor Bush-Harris… So long, street cred.
Master Bush-Harris? Stop it, Grandma!