Desire lines, in our cities and our language
The way people 鈥榲ote with their feet鈥� for a new path through a park has something in common with the way they establish new grammatical usages by using them.
A 'desire path' at the Cambridge Public Library in Cambridge, Mass.
Ruth Walker
Approaching my public library the other day, I noticed an unpaved path across part of the park out front.
Someone had voted with their feet for a shortcut. In fact, many people had done so. They had collectively declined, again and again over the years, to make the right angle from the sidewalk to the main path to the front door. Opting for the hypotenuse rather than the legs of a right triangle, they had made a new path, which eventually rejoins the main path.聽
There is a term for this, more poetic than 鈥渟hortcut.鈥� It is desire line. Here鈥檚 a definition from : 鈥淎n informal path that pedestrians prefer to take to get from one location to another rather than using a sidewalk or other official route.鈥� Word Spy鈥檚 first usage example is from 1987: 鈥淪tudy participants also drew charts of pedestrian traffic to take note of what are delightfully termed 鈥榙esire lines鈥� 鈥� paths actually made by walkers as opposed to those created on the drawing board.鈥澛�
There is something about wanting to make a public space one鈥檚 own that is nearly universal. William H. Whyte, the great urban sociologist who made , laid much stress on the idea that public outdoor seating is likely to be more heavily used if people can move the chairs around rather than just sitting on benches bolted into place.聽
The desire lines we draw across lawns have an analogy in the way language evolves, too. Not long ago, Macmillan鈥檚 Open Dictionary word of the week was desire path, a synonym for desire line. In a post on , Laine Redpath Cole commented, 鈥淸I]t often happens that many people don鈥檛 like new usages, incorrect usages, verbing nouns, sinning against syntax, dropping punctuation 鈥� but like all desire paths they鈥檒l only become well-trodden if they work and they鈥檒l usually rejoin the main road 鈥� and they make language accessible, characterful and exciting.鈥澛�
The other day a friend asked where I stood on the question of 鈥渟ingular they鈥�: the use of 鈥渢hey鈥� and 鈥渢heir鈥� for 鈥渉e or she鈥� and 鈥渉is or her,鈥� respectively.聽
I said I鈥檓 not completely happy with it, but I understand the historical argument for it: The generic 鈥渉e鈥� was promoted by grammarians who wanted English to follow the same rules as Latin. I said I found it most useful with , such as everyone and anyone. 聽
Look back toward the top of this piece, dear reader, and you鈥檒l see I鈥檝e written, 鈥淪omeone has voted with their feet鈥︹�� Yes, 鈥渟omeone鈥� is grammatically singular, but 鈥渢heir鈥� covers multiple options as to actual number and gender. And those trying to be sensitive to other people鈥檚 gender identities (鈥淪he looks like a she but she maybe doesn鈥檛 feel like a she鈥�) find use of the singular 鈥渢hey鈥� quite natural.聽
Whatever the motivation, and however we feel about it, singular they is a kind of shortcut through the traditional grammar rules that is coming to be more accepted all the time. It鈥檚 like that shortcut at the library 鈥� which rejoins the main path, and may someday get paved.聽